The Race Box

One night as me and my husband were getting ready for bed. He looked at me with his brown eyes and asked me, "Would you ever think, that one day you'd marry a black guy and have two interracial kids?"

The truth is, I never cared about one's color, religion or social status. What I did care about is for you to be a decent human being.

I came to this country, for the same reasons most immigrants come to America. A better future, freedom of religion and of course the American Dream. I wasn't looking to marry outside of my race. If anything, I was looking for love.

When I look at my husband, I don't see him as a black man. It is not to say that, I don't notice my husbands skin color, is different from mine. I simply see him as the man that I love, and the father of my children.

We have two beautiful and very vocal little boys. Our first born is an epitome of life. He is an adorable little guy, who inherited the best of both worlds.

I do have a confession to make. I hate the term "mixed" or "light-skinned." It feels like his worth is being diminished and he is reduced to a slang. Like his story has already been written and his life has been mapped out by strangers and stereo types.

I can also do without the occasional stare downs, eye rolls and sucking of the teeth.

Why is it that we are so sensitive about race? But most importantly, why do our children have to pay the ultimate price?

Why does my son needs to check a race box? Why is there a race box to check in the first place? Are we not all Americans? One nation under God?

I am well-aware of this country's history with race. The civil rights movement is still relatively fresh in most people's minds. Martin Luther King's famous "I have a dream" still echoes in our society as a triumph of human rights and equality and is as important today as it was in 1963.

The fact is, that for the rest of his life my son would be deemed as the mixed kid, with the good hair. Makes me cringe, I want to tell him that he is so much more then that.

He comes from a history of fighters.
He is not just black or white.
I want him to understand how his ancestors Survived the Holocaust, Slavery, and racism.

But, I also want to tell him that he is his own man.
He is not one thing.
He is everything.

Being a interracial or bi-racial family is not easy. People still can not accept that love is blind and should be. That the children that we bare as a result of that love, are not mixed or different. They are just kids.

The only thing that is different is how the world treats them.