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When we were walking around downtown the other day we saw an interracial couple walking in front of us–black woman, white man. This is the conversation that ensued.
My husband: Look at that. There’s more of that around here these days. That’s good. Me: I guess we were forerunners for the area. My husband: Yeah. It’s not like the old days when people in trucks would yell at us while we walked down Bay Shore. Me: Or the treatment we would get from people in Save A’Lot. My husband: Yeah. Me: But I guess we deserved it for being someplace like Save A’Lot.
Note: My husband would have a problem with the first part of this post because he no longer refers to people as black or white. He’s having some sort of issue.
This is my mother. She’s biracial. Her mother is white and her father is black. I don’t think she ever really struggled with her racial identity until now.
The other day I got a phone message from her that went something like this. “I’ve only got 31 more pounds to lose before I hit my goal weight.” She’s doing Weight Watchers. “You’re not even going to recognize me. The next time you see me I’ll be a skinny, wrinkled, white woman.”
My question is, since when does joining Weight Watchers make you white? I had no idea when she joined that she’d turn into a white woman. I wonder what my father thinks about that.