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| Interracial and interethnic dating |
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| Written by John Doe | ||||||
| Monday, 16 November 2009 12:04 | ||||||
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Interracial and interethnic dating is as much if not more, to do with "Family Matters" as my own family. So, in order to try to describe the experience of being in an interethnic relationship, I must first assess the culture appeared around me. Grab some Cheez Puffs or greaves, put aside his dislike of corny, alliterative references snack food, and we will come to this. If you ever feel inclined to Google "Interracial Dating", as I do often on a Tuesday night, will find a lot of dating sites designed to hook up with someone of another race. There is information about interracial couples, no tirades against her, not advice, not reflective writing on the subject, but, rather, the dating sites with names like "salt and pepper." Discovering this made a little flashing light on and off in my mind reading "Fetish! Fetish! Fetish! "I'll admit to feeling conflicted about interracial couples referred to the fetishization of a group. Who am I to make the distinction between preference and prejudice? This concern always take the form of a certain cringe I'm never no time to think about it, but when I see evidence of people having to go out and find someone of another race or ethnicity, too. Toes that the action of the fine line between personal preferences and .. . and what, exactly? This is not racism in the traditional sense of hating or fearing a group of people, but it seems to be the impression that the group somehow fetish is either aesthetically or sexually superior to other groups or which, having a new phase are somehow subhuman, objectified exchangeable containers for sex and attention. I will not defend the idea that there are different levels of racism, but this particular brand is so painful, because it occurs so subtly and, mostly, disguised as a compliment. When a man who is darker than I am encouraged by the pallor of my skin, as often I find Latino men, who insults and devalues them. I reduced my body parts, and buys the idea that white skin is inherently beautiful. And I'll feel uncomfortable. Absolutely and utterly disgusting. Because I am both a victim and a continuation of this ongoing war against the skin of people. Why can not I find this man attractive? Is it his eyes? His attitude? His beliefs? Am I guilty of fetish, to be racist? How am I involved in all this, what is the level of my guilt? So when I approach a subject like interracial or interethnic dating, we must first ask those who seek it out and the reasons why people enter into these links. People, that, like me. Love! We're in love! "It's the simple answer from either couples clasped hands. But, you know. That's not good enough. Love means different things to different cultures at different points on a scale of historical time, for people of different ages. Chemistry, then it makes sense to me. Pheromones and closeness, and in some cases, an open bar and very cold vodka into a very hot night. Attraction makes sense to me, but, like love, is never easy and does not exist in isolation from the culture we live in cm TV commercials, catalogs, ads for perfume, romantic comedies, heroes and heroines in the coming of the age novels - these have all had a role in coloration, literally and figuratively, my idea of what is attractive. And although I am attracted by wit and personality and thinking, those are not necessarily things that make me cross the line from friends ... half of a couple, clasping her hands, shouting "Love! We are in love!" Despite my inability to intellectualize the momentum. They asked me if I believe that minorities, especially women, choose white partners once they have reached a certain level of success, money and / or social. To which I reply: "Sure. Maybe. Sometimes? "I think, however, that while this may be true for some couples, many of interracial and interethnic links are more a result of being raised in, and therefore be more comfortable, a culture that creates and supplies the white Americans. In my own family, my two youngest aunts, one of whom was born in the U.S. and another who moved here when he was a toddler, have both married Anglo men. And by the way! They do become very successful women in terms of their careers. But it did have grown up immersed in American culture, friends and television programs in Latin America that provided a picture of what relationships should be like - a ideal that is different from the ideal of my Cuban grandmother and great-grandmothers were raised in Spanish. Having grown up in Miami, I feel like I grew up in - at least - two different worlds. As such, I have to prove what I like and do not mind in terms of relationships. I know that much of what they are not particularly care of the qualities most often associated with machismo. While I understand this is a cultural construct, not something inherent in Latino men is rooted in the Latino community in subtle and explicit. It is a concept that is nurtured and intensified in places like, for example, of Miami, where, increasingly, people expect and often behave according to the functions of social mandate has always seemed ill-fitting . That particular identity, a Latina in Miami as I felt it had defined for me, there was something I wanted. Therefore, I find it very surprising or innovative that I'm dating a white, Anglo-Saxon Protestant. We've grown up watching the cartoon itself; speak on the same code too complex of lyrics, references to movies, characters from comics and Internet web memes. And both, like spicy chicken sandwiches. We have a common language and enough cultural touchstones from joining us. You. It's love. My family, however, is a different story. Not necessarily be put off by my insistence (as they see it) in the non-Latino couple, is that care about me and that concern is manifested in a way that makes me want to scream. The funny (horrible) that I would never have been able to predict their reactions to my boyfriend. But the American is seen as something so far from its own identity and experience, who seem to fear that I am entering a vacuum that will never return. When, indeed, this step takes place through the first time I watched, entranced, as Mr. Rogers sweater exchanged for another and joined Feivel tearfully singing "Somewhere Out There" in its entirety by the heart. I was far away. Not that I never felt Cuban or Latin, is that I never knew what it meant to feel these things. I was in the books and TV shows and oldies. Popular culture does not include music or custard sauce or Christmas Eve dinner. These were some of my fiction for children, sure, but it was not the determining factors. I did not realize it had to be America until he took a summer course in Spain and was told that I look or act like Jennifer Lopez. Really? But back to my family. I was asked, half jokingly, why my uterus was not yet full of Cubans future. I smiled demurely, while the inhalation of two margaritas and a beer. "I'm practicing," I'm confused. My family, kindly ignored me. He was interrogated about my boyfriend. "Is it Cuban?" "No". "But he is a Catholic?" "Hiccups." A pause worried. I crammed one or seven Nacho chips in my mouth. "Are you ...?" "MMMF?" "The word J?" The string of expletives that immediately swirled about my alcohol soaked brain was decidedly Cuban. But what can I do? I know my family loves me, completely and unequivocally, and have what they see as my best interests at heart, always. I know the attention that my boyfriend and I are united by common values. They want them to respect me, everything about me, and that includes my family and my identity as Cuban Cuban-American. I know the idea of racial or ethnic purity pales (God, whatever) in comparison with a common set of values and morals. But. Therein lies the disconnect. My values are complicated. They have much to do with my education, for sure. I never refuse. But my education has been formed by more than being Cuban, mashed taro to eat for dinner and sprinkling of violet water, after bath time or be able to recognize a photo of José Martí before I could name the President of the United States. My education is also the Mr. Clean jingle and the Ninja Turtles and Full House and the Babysitters Club series. And although these things can not be definitively American, they are definitely white, upper middle class of America, no matter who consume and enjoy them. They are, as is the case, definitely me. And while I'm sure many Cuban-American children in Miami and elsewhere are about the same cultural reference guide, I have not met one. I knew a guy who happens to be white, to become Protestant and going to speak the same language as me. That's what happened in this particular episode.
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