You can't go home again...

During my trip back to MI, my grandfather's new wife (P)* decided she needed to let me know some thoughts about my relationship that had been on her mind for the past five years. She started this loaded conversation with a seemingly innocent question involving whether or not M and I are thinking about marriage & kids. That's not a surprising question from a family member - especially someone who thinks that I’m living in sin b/c M and I aren’t married, but still live together. I stammered my typical "I don't know when-we're still working on us-yes, I know we've been together a long time-yes, we want kids, but I'm not ready" answer and hoped that would take care of it (as it usually does). Unfortunately, I was very, very wrong.

P turned to me with tears in her eyes and said, "it's just not right - you don't mix with coloreds." She must have misinterpreted my WTF?!? look for a I-really-want-to-hear-this look b/c she decided to let it all out. She went on about how she didn't want to hurt me, but these thoughts have been on her mind since she first met M five years ago & she swore she would tell me everything someday. She said M is a "perfectly nice fellow," but it's "against god's will to mix." Tears started rolling down her face when she told me that I'm "too pretty, smart, and nice to settle for a colored fellow."

You think that's bad?
It got worse.

She rounded out her tearful confession with a talk about how everyone is supposed to "stay in their own categories" and she feels sorry for any child M and I would produce because the child would be so f-ed up (my words, not hers) that he/she would not be able to lead any semblance of a normal life. She said she's torn inside b/c whites aren't supposed to "mix with coloreds" but god tells her to love everyone, so by default she has to be nice to them. She went on to tell me how "the colored people are supposed to work for us, not romance us."

Oh, there’s more.

She waited until the end to hit me with the big one – “colored people just aren’t good people.” She even warned me that if M and I ever get into an argument (b/c that hasn’t happened in the almost 6 years we’ve been together, right?), that he would get his “gangs” to go after me. After all, “all colored people have gangs.” She reiterated “colored people just aren’t good people” about a billion times (at least it felt like it) after that. By then end, she was practically sobbing over how I was “ruining [my] life by being with a colored.”

Of course, I tried to defend M and our relationship. The fact that he's a really good man just does not matter. The fact that we have been together for almost six years and been able to successfully work through many difficulties just does not matter. The fact that he treats me well and does many things for me other women’s boyfriends/husbands do not just does not matter. The fact that I love him and am happy with him just does not matter. The fact that she is basing all of her opinions on stereotypes just does not matter. The fact that she is completely clueless about the world outside of her tiny community in rural Michigan just does not matter. The fact that IT IS MY LIFE just does not matter.

The only thing that does matter is that M is not white.

There’s a small part of me that thinks she would rather see me with white man I don’t even like, rather than M. At least he would be white.

Now, I don’t think P is a bad person. In fact, she’s very nice and is good for my grandfather. In her mind, I think she only wants what is best for me (in her own screwed-up way). As with many people in that community, she’s sheltered. She was also sheltered as a child (she was raised in a rural community in West Virginia). She loves my grandfather (and me) and has tried hard to preserve the memory of my grandmother. I’ve considered her to be a close part of my family for years. Overall, she’s a good person – very sweet and loving.

Unfortunately, she’s also a total racist. In fact, based on some of the things she said, I would even say she’s borderline white supremacist. There are many reasons why she has this mindset, the most prevalent being that the only black people she has been exposed to are either on TV or were “workers” on the plantation in West Virginia – no joke… but it doesn’t really matter why she has these thoughts. Bottom line – she’s racist.

It hurts to know that a member of my family is so hateful that she feels she has to pray that “god will bring [you] a nice fellow.” Ummmm… I already have a nice fellow, thank you very much. She said she prays I will come to my senses and realize how I don’t need to settle. She even prays that M and I will not have any children, so that they do not have to suffer (but if we do, she would be forced to love it b/c god says she should love everyone, even if they’re “colored”).

It hurts to know that the man I love will never be accepted – just b/c he’s black.

It hurts to know that my grandparents wouldn’t attend my wedding – not b/c of anything M did, but b/c it just isn’t right that we would marry (b/c he’s black).

It hurts to know that M is hurt by all of this. I love him – I don’t want to see him hurting b/c of the insensitivity of my family. No one wants to feel like their partner’s family dislikes them – especially when you have no control over why they dislike you (b/c he’s black).

It sickens me to know a family member feels this way. I wonder how many others would have the same sentiments if they knew M is black. It also sickens me to have these thoughts in my family. These are people I love – I don’t want to think of them this way (i.e. racist).

I know my grandfather has similar opinions to P. After he met M (five years ago), he sent me a long letter about how it’s wrong, how black people are only out to get your money, blah, blah, blah. However, in recent years, he has mellowed out a bit. When I went out there last December, he told me that he doesn’t understand or agree with me dating a black man, but as long as M good to me and I’m happy, he has nothing bad to say. Coming from a 77 year-old man who was raised in that same sheltered community, I took that as the closest form of acceptance I was ever going to get. I’m sure he still isn’t happy about the situation and has most likely discussed with P what a tragedy it all is – but at least he’s a little more okay with M now. He even asked about M when I was out there last week – a small victory.

I really wish P hadn't told me what she thought. Now, I’m always going to have that on my mind when I’m there. I’m not going to punish them by not going to see them (my grandfather isn’t doing so well and is always asking me to come back), but knowing that P is praying that I come to my senses doesn’t exactly make me want to run back there anytime soon. Also, knowing that M will not be accepted doesn’t make me want to run back there – I love him and it’s highly insulting to have someone questioning why I am with him (and that he’s not a good person – WTF is with that?!?).

I’ve always been the perfect granddaughter in my grandparents’ eyes. They bragged about all of my accomplishments to their friends. The shelves in the living rooms were always plastered with photos of me throughout the years, along with copies of various awards I received. Everyone who lives in that town knew (and still knows) me – even if I had never met them in person.

There will never be a photo of M and I on those shelves - or of a great-grandchild.

I guess you really cannot go home again. I finally get it.

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*Well, she's not really new anymore - they've been married 7 years. I just cannot let myself call her my "grandmother" because she's not. She's perfectly nice & perfect for my grandfather - she's just not my gramma.