I am mixed race*. It’s a lot to be proud of*. And when I say I’m mixed race, I don’t mean Irish and German and Swedish. Bitch please. I’m talkin’ African, Asian, and European*. I’m from ALL the continents, even Antarctica, maybe, probably.
It all started in the 1950s* when my grandparents on my father’s side decided to start a family tradition. My grandfather was Black, and his wife was Han Chinese*. And they figured, since they were interracial, their kids won’t be allowed to be with anyone of the same race, either.
I recall tales my dad told me when I was young, how he’d bring home the wrong girls sometimes. “Papa,” he said, “She’s really smart, she’s healthy, longevity runs in her family, she’s really nice and generous…” But his father would cut him off, shouting, “But she’s Chinese! Your mother’s Chinese! Get your ass out of my house and don’t you come back unless you got yourself a Polynesian! Do I make myself clear, boy?!”
My dad had a rough childhood like that. Even after he grew up, his father gave him shit if he found himself a nice girl of a race the family already had. He was 29 when he met my mother*. At first, he was worried, because she was white, but then it occurred to him, “Wait, we don’t have any white people in our family!” It just wasn’t one of those things you realize at first, you know?
So, those are my parents’ ethnicities, and that’s how I became White, Black, and Chinese*. The problem for me was: Shit, we’re running out of new races here! My brother made a kid with a Hispanic girl, and my sister made a couple kids with a Polynesian, just like Gramps always wanted. But when I would show interest in a White, or Black, or Chinese, or Hispanic, or yes, even a Polynesian girl, who wasn’t at all easy to find – I wouldn’t even have to date them, I just expressed interest in them – I’d get an ass whooping.
I started dating this Indian girl (as in like, from-India-Indian), and I thought my dad would approve, but he didn’t. After my ass whooping, and I cried, “Why??” he said she was still Asian. But then, I thought I’d find myself an Indian girl (as in NOT-from-India-Indian). But the problem with that was, my college only had one of those, and she was a professor, who was in an open marriage, but I wasn’t invited. She told me, “Bitch please, my marriage isn’t THAT open.”
Yeah, she didn’t like me very much.
So, finally, I just said, “Fuck it!” and married my cat. The minister assured me God was totally cool with that.
How’s THAT for a different race, Dad????
Okay, in all seriousness, very little of this story is true. Everything I put an * next to is true, though. I really do come from 2 generations of interracial couples, dating all the way back to the 1950s.
And me and my siblings bleached the family line. We all made white kids, only. That wasn’t intentional, just coincidental.
Still though, there’s one particular fact that I want to say. Both sets of my grandparents are/were conservative. They weren’t “liberal for their time,” no, they were full-on ‘Murica-loving conservatives. And they still had no problem being with people of different races.
And this really did start in the 1950s, back when NOBODY had interracial families, even liberals. Hell, even liberals today barely ever make kids with people of different races.
Point is, being right-wing conservative does not at all mean you’re a white supremacist. Any left-winger who believes that by default, in any given situation, is a fucking moron.