The other day I check my inbox to find an extremely long email from a woman who I don’t know. At first glance I think, “how sweet.” She goes on to say she is very familiar with my work and like most fans, debated on how many pregnancies I’ve had. After some online research, she stumbles across my blog. That’s when the tone of her email changes.
This woman begins explaining why she “despises dark women of color like myself who wear weaves.” For the record I wear a wig, but whatever. Her opinion of me has changed upon learning that I’m “another self-hating dark black woman married to a white man who was the mother of biracial children.” The tongue-lashing continues as she makes all kinds of accusations, including questioning the love I have for my so called “creamy kids.” Apparently, my “love is warped by leftover, damaging remnants of slavery and white supremacy…”
What’s funny is that I laughed while reading this sad and pathetic message. This woman also states that she sympathizes with me because her own mother has “suffered from the same affliction,” which explains why she has light skin and long hair. The fact that she has nothing better to do with her time than bash my family and me is hilarious.
You may be wondering why I decided to even waste my time writing a response. The answer is simple. I have two children, and they’ll probably read this some day. They’ll have to deal with racism at some point in their lives. My goal is to teach them the importance of not letting anyone dictate who they should be with, and not to let negative opinions define who they are as a person. Being in a healthy relationship is all that matters. I could have deleted her message. But, I have decided to leave it up on my blog as a reminder that racism is alive and well.
We’d all like to think that bigotry will eventually die out. But, that ain’ t gonna happen. For those who think that just because we have a black/biracial president we’re in the clear, think again. I won’t dignify this woman’s rant with an explanation as to why I married my husband. I won’t make apologies for being with the person I love. But, those who have a problem with it can go kick rocks with flip-flops.
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