The latest entry in Gawker’s series on interracial dating is the most interesting one, as it grapples clearly with one facet of interracial dating: Family. And specifically, starting a new one.
(x-posted from stacialbrown.com) 2128 Leahy Street, Muskegon, MI. This is what I remember: a white house. Three levels, two bedrooms on the third floor where I was too afraid to sleep alone, your room on the first, where you let me sleep on a living room loveseat, twenty feet away from your door. Wallpaper. Yours Read More
“And just who are we related to?” the dog-walking stranger said, her eyes on the blond, blue-eyed 5-year-old in the pair, but her query very much meant for the brown woman – that is, me. I returned her cutesy tone, explaining that my playmate was my fiancé’s niece, and weren’t we having fun outside? My Read More
“What do we have here?” the first one said in that high-pitched ‘it’s a baby!!!’ voice. “Is he yours?”
I cried as I kissed Xavi goodbye and left him with Lupe, the babysitter. I cried as I shut the door behind me and walked the ten steps to my car. I cried as I drove to work on auto-pilot after so many years of driving and running the same route.
Treating our hungry toddler to his favorite meal during a four-hour car ride seemed a pretty easy task: Any decent small town off the Saw Mill Parkway had to have a pizza joint, right? So it was that we found ourselves at a spare storefront restaurant in Mount Kisco a few weeks ago. It was Read More
Quite a start to the week: Ladies Love Cool James, Rozay and Fat Joe. Sincere didn’t go to #thecountryofAfrica for us to suffer through Mondays like that one.
We pass each other and he doesn’t recognize me. It’s been over a decade since I’ve spoken to my father and much longer since I’ve actually seen him. I used to joke to myself that I wouldn’t recognize him if I passed him on the street. But I do and the jolt of recognition–the slight Read More
In advance of Father’s Day this Sunday, a few members of the PostBourgie crew (also known as The Grape Drink Mafia) got together to discuss our relationships with our dads and how they’ve evolved (or not) over the years. As we chatted, a theme seemed to emerge: the older we get, the more objective Read More
It took me a long time to realize that my father wasn’t a bad man, just a bad husband for my mother. That’s what happens when you’re a mama’s boy and your mother not-so-subtly drills that into your impressionable mind. Yes, he was deceitful. Yes, he was hyper-critical. Yes, he was extremely moody. Yes, he Read More