Coming in the bedroom, she was suffused in ethereal peacefulness emanating from the horizontal shafts of morning lights streaming from the window blinds bathing her sleeping cat on the bed. Odd it may seems,this scene impels her to write on issue of race.
She was color blind when it comes to love. She did not see her husband as African American but a person, a friend and a lover. Living almost all of her life in a homogeneous society in her native land, where class is dictated by the enormity of your house, size of you bank account and educational acquisition; she realized her limited understanding of race issue in America specially in the Midwest where she is domiciled. Apparently, majority of immigrants to the United States are ignorant of the issue of race relations for they see America on what you saw on media ; and race is a domestic affair.
A tinge of prejudice here and there towards her husband and her, she experienced it. At one instance, an African American co worker of hers commented that brown skinned people are likely to be treated better than them. She was oblivious to these delicate concerns, then she realized she must start understandingand embrace her husband's ethnicity . Does her expatriate friends married to a Caucasian feel the same way, are they spared from some of the nuanced bigotry when they are with their husbands? Or do they considered themselves white like the way she appraise herself now as black? Or should she adhere strongly to her own ethnicity and let the multiracial society she belongs now sort it out for themselves?
These perplexing introspection within her was simplified one day by her masseuse in a conversation. Her masseuse was a young light skinned African American who loves ZZ Top (American Blues Rock Band) , she found it peculiar for its not common for her ethnicity to indulge in these kind of genre - that is according to her husband. She found out that the masseuse is a daughter of an white mother and African American father, hence her predilection for ZZ Top.
They discussed the travails of being non white in the Midwest but what the masseuse said put everything in perspective: when you peel the layer of the skin from a person, what's inside are all the same whether you are White, Black Brown, Yellow or Red skinned.
And she believed her.
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| Dr. Gunther Von Hagen's Skinman |
She met her husband on line almost 7 years ago and married him for love. A native of a third world country, considering the circumstances of how they met, it is common to assume that she may be one of the many who will marry a foreigner for economic reasons, a mercantile refugee. She has a comfortable life in her native country, a house paid for, a chauffeur, financially rewarding career, traveled a lot and indulged in hosts of activities that single women would do. Why would she leave this comfort zone for a man, live 8,249 miles from her family and friends, kibitzed by her expatriate acquaintances.
Well, in life there is always a trade off, she mused, you can't have it all. She thought that once in her life she has to make a hard choice.
She was color blind when it comes to love. She did not see her husband as African American but a person, a friend and a lover. Living almost all of her life in a homogeneous society in her native land, where class is dictated by the enormity of your house, size of you bank account and educational acquisition; she realized her limited understanding of race issue in America specially in the Midwest where she is domiciled. Apparently, majority of immigrants to the United States are ignorant of the issue of race relations for they see America on what you saw on media ; and race is a domestic affair.
A tinge of prejudice here and there towards her husband and her, she experienced it. At one instance, an African American co worker of hers commented that brown skinned people are likely to be treated better than them. She was oblivious to these delicate concerns, then she realized she must start understandingand embrace her husband's ethnicity . Does her expatriate friends married to a Caucasian feel the same way, are they spared from some of the nuanced bigotry when they are with their husbands? Or do they considered themselves white like the way she appraise herself now as black? Or should she adhere strongly to her own ethnicity and let the multiracial society she belongs now sort it out for themselves?
These perplexing introspection within her was simplified one day by her masseuse in a conversation. Her masseuse was a young light skinned African American who loves ZZ Top (American Blues Rock Band) , she found it peculiar for its not common for her ethnicity to indulge in these kind of genre - that is according to her husband. She found out that the masseuse is a daughter of an white mother and African American father, hence her predilection for ZZ Top.
They discussed the travails of being non white in the Midwest but what the masseuse said put everything in perspective: when you peel the layer of the skin from a person, what's inside are all the same whether you are White, Black Brown, Yellow or Red skinned.
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