November, 1975.
With the recent release of Loving, a historical drama film written and directed by Jeff Nichols portraying Richard and Mildred Loving, the plaintiffs in the 1967 U.S. Supreme Court decision Loving v. Virginia, which invalidated state laws prohibiting interracial marriage, I think about the social norms of the 60s compared to now. I speculate on what current day “outrage” will be normalized, glamorized, and simplified on the silver screen 50 years from now.
I also reflect upon my parents who were married eight years after the Loving v. Virginia ruling in 1975. On November 29th, they celebrated 41 years of marriage together.
My mother Maureen came from an Irish-Catholic father and a French-Canadian/Scottish mother in Cranston, Rhode Island. My father Fitzroy was born on the Caribbean island of Jamaica in the parish of Manchester. Both were raised thousands of miles apart, but shared many of the same core values. They met while both were attending college in Connecticut.
My white mother was only 22 years old when she married my black father who was seven and a half years older. They lived together on Ocean Avenue in Brooklyn, New York while they were engaged and married. In the 70s this was scandalous.
Fitzroy was an “illegal” at the time because his student visa had expired. My mother often recalls the day that they went to get his green card, and the man in the clerk’s office pulled my mother aside, and reminded her “that marrying someone for citizenship was illegal and that she didn’t have to do it.” She always smirks when she tells this story.
Anyone who is familiar with my mother knows that she is quite possibly one of the sweetest humans on earth, but when she tells stories such as this, you see an undeniable streak of defiance and an overwhelming sense of satisfaction for her boldness.
“As a teenager I remember noticing that my parents would never hold hands in public.”
As a teenager I remember noticing that my parents would never hold hands in public. I later learned it was because the mere sight of them walking down the street together could ignite hostility. A car full of young white men once pulled up next to them yelling racial slurs as they walked. This experience made them learn to “not throw it in people’s faces.”
When buying a home, my mother would often meet with the realtor first and tour the house alone. My father sometimes talks about the time he wasn’t allowed to live with his friends in an apartment in Boston while in college because the landlord didn’t want a black person living there. I am certain that the first part of this is a result of the latter.
My mother is a teacher and my father has spent his lifetime reinventing himself from being a pharmaceutical salesman, having a computer business, and eventually as a teacher until he retired in 2011. My father was president of our city’s youth soccer league and helped establish the first youth soccer league in a neighboring Connecticut town in the 80s and 90s. This program has benefited youths in the community for decades. My parents once fundraised and took 16 children on a ten day trip to Jamaica to show that with a goal, a plan, dedication, and hard work, anything is possible. Many of these kids normally would have never been able to see the sinking city of Port Royal that was once inhabited by pirates in their lifetime, and were then able to experience it firsthand. My mother relishes in teachable moments such as this.
My father proudly reminds us that he became an American citizen so he could vote against Ronald Reagan. My mother is as freethinking as they come, she home-schooled all four children up until eighth grade, no one did this then. As progressive as they are, they still exude traditional traits. He reads twice a month at church, monitors a table tennis club for youths and my mother was a Girl Scout leader and taught CCD classes. I am biased, but they are special people.
My father came out of retirement five years ago after the Sandy Hook shooting happened and became a security guard at my mother’s school. This is his quiet and loving way of always wanting to keep my mother safe. My mother still wakes up at 6 in the morning on weekends to make pancakes and eggs for my father before he leaves to coach soccer and tennis. No relationship is perfect and exists without hardships and struggles, but moments like these explain how they have been happy for 41 years.
“My parents pushed boundaries, tested people's comfort levels and challenged societal norms just by being themselves.”
My parents pushed boundaries, tested people’s comfort levels and challenged societal norms just by being themselves. Raising the four of us to the best of their ability was the way they chose to protest, to change minds by being examples, so then maybe people who knew us would think of our family first before they decided to accept gross generalizations about those that are a little different.
I’m far more public and outspoken than they ever were, but they have done far more than I to change people’s way of thinking. They are unassuming and private people. So private, that I am certain this public sentiment will bring them a bit of uneasiness. But as I think of my parents, I remind myself that being loud about our discontent about society can only do so much. That contributing to and enhancing the society that I critique is equally as important.
I am okay with receiving hate mail for my opinions. Or being called four-letter words from time to time. My parents have always endured this with patience, positivity, and the belief that people resist change the most right before it happens.
Martin Luther King Jr. is embraced now by most of America, but he certainly wasn’t when he was alive. Interracial marriage isn’t taboo in my part of the world anymore, but it certainly was when my parents were newlyweds. Ellen DeGeneres couldn’t get hired for a decade after she came out of the closet, but has since become an American cultural icon.
All I ask is that you think about this notion when moving forward. That you think of the possibility that maybe our own children will look at the present outrage over #BlackLivesMatter, Colin Kaepernick kneeling during the anthem, or gender neutral bathrooms as “no brainers” in the same way that my generation views interracial relationships, the Don’t-Ask-Don’t Tell policy in the military, and the raising of the black power fist at the Olympics in Los Angeles. That there is a possibility that where we stand today on issues won’t be the same place that we do tomorrow. That sometimes we are wrong about things. That when people try to correct their course, that we allow them. That we have the flexibility to evolve. That with each inch of progression that is made, another new and unfamiliar topic arises. This is an inevitable part of life. That rather than denying the validity of a matter that is foreign to us, that we listen more so that we can better understand the things that haven’t affected our personal day-to-day lives yet. That change isn’t overnight. It almost always takes longer than a 30 day GoFundMe campaign and we can’t be discouraged when it does.
Most importantly, that advocating for changing policies isn’t always the same as striving to open the minds of people around us, and that we should aim to do and be both.
Happy 41st Anniversary, Mom and Dad!
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