Skin deep

It still amazes me how close minded some people can be. How they can judge someone solely on physical characteristics. How anyone who’s been in love can’t understand how a person could love someone physically different than themselves. Why is there so much fear in the unknown? Do hair texture, eye color, body shape, and skin color really make us different?


I am Irish/Italian, but grew up Italian. From very early on, I was taught that there were “us” and “them”. “Them” was made up of anyone who wasn’t Italian. Stereotypes were factual. Blacks were crooks, Jews were cheap, Polacks were dumb, Asians couldn’t drive, and the list goes on. We stuck to our own kind and rarely ventured into unfamiliar neighborhoods. When we did, car doors were locked and purses were clutched. When my grandma was mad at my grandpa, she would call him “Black”. That was the biggest insult there was. This is how they were raised and they were teaching me what they knew. It just never sat right with me. I would look at a kid and see a kid. We liked the same toys, had the same hobbies, and played the same games. They just happened to look different than me.

Growing up in a middle class suburb, there weren’t many minorities. It wasn’t until college that I started to hang around with kids of all different cultural and ethnic backgrounds. There was so much to learn about….so many stereotypes to disprove. I based my opinions of people on who they really were. If I liked you, I liked you. If I thought you were an asshole, you knew it.

People have asked me if I’m with my husband solely because he’s Black. That question is odd to me. Are they with their spouse solely because they are fat, or bald, or tall, or blond? Sure people are attracted to a certain type, but physical characteristics aren’t the reason they fall in love. There is more to it than that. Ed and I had alcoholic fathers, were raised by single moms, have older siblings, grew up Catholic, enjoy the same things, laugh at the same jokes, dream the same dreams……….oh and we just happen to have different skin colors. Why is that so hard to understand?

At least once a week, someone will ask me if my kids are mine. Look past the skin color asshole. Do you see how much they look like me? The big eyes, the freckles, the red streaks in their hair. I can’t begin to tell you how much that pisses me off. If I see dark haired parents who have a blond child, I would never ask if they are related. So why do people feel the need to call us out? Why don’t we fit the mold?

I will never regret my decision to follow my heart. It hasn’t been an easy rode. I’ve definitely been reminded that my lifestyle literally disgusts a lot of people. Fortunately those people aren’t anyone I would want in my life. They don’t deserve to be. My kids are being raised to judge people for who they are and not what they look like. It’s a small step in the right direction.