Call Me a Hippie, but I Still Believe Love Can Change the World
Watching recent coverage on the impeachment trial and subsequent acquittal makes me miss my mom and dad. At times like this, I wish could have their help in processing all that is currently going on in our country. My parents met during the civil rights protests of the mid 60’s and 70’s, at a time when our country was facing a similar wave of racial terror, political upheaval and societal uncertainty.
My parents got married at a time when interracial marriage was not fully legal across the United States. My grandparents on my mother’s side did not come to their wedding, because they didn’t condone their marriage. They liked my dad but said they couldn’t support my parents’ marriage out of concern for their future children.
Their children would turn out to be ME.
Being mixed has been difficult at times. (I can’t tell you how many times strangers had the gall to ask me as a child if I was adopted.) Nonetheless, it is a critical part of who I am.
Being biracial has given me the gift of knowing what it means to be a part of a community and an outsider all at once. I know what it means to be the “only Black girl in class”. I know what colorism is and have personally experienced the benefits of light-skin privilege. I know what it feels like to be the “expert” on Black culture in a room full of White folx. I know how it feels to not know which racial box to check in the demographics portion of a standardized test.
These pictures (above) resurfaced after I discovered a cardboard box of old photos my mother had collected before she died. Despite the many challenges I and my parents faced, these photos remind me that previous generations have also faced racism. These photos remind me that fighting CONTINUE READING: Call Me a Hippie, but I Still Believe Love Can Change the World - SF PUBLIC SCHOOL MOM
