I worried it was because of my race, because I am a “gringo.” To my relief, I later learned that the reason he was reluctant about our relationship was simply because I was dating his daughter.

I can remember sitting in my eighth-grade class and hearing my teacher talking about how he thought Cher was attractive.

I forget how this digression came onto center stage, but he made a point that has stayed with me since then: white, as a skin tone, is rather bland and looks rather unnatural. (Not that Cher, who hardly shows that she is half-Cherokee, is the prime example of this.)

My teacher’s claim was that there is something much more natural and appealing about a tan or black skin tone. After all, it is a great alternative when faced with looking like a plastered wall.

While it may be aesthetically wonderful to molt, one must take on the harsh sociological baggage that comes with assuming a skin tone.

Race is a major factor in our lives, even if we choose to ignore it. It extends its reach through the economy to the much “smaller” factors of everyday life like shopping at the mall and dating.

Fortunately enough, race has not influenced my relationship with my girlfriend of three years, Nicole, who happens to be Mexican.

I can remember the first time Nicole met my parents. It was about six months into our relationship and they came down for my birthday. Surprisingly, my parents did not even take note of her race. They complimented her wonderful smile and beautiful skin tone, first assuming that she was Italian. I kindly corrected my parents, sensing no apprehension.

A few weeks later, I was in an English class and we were talking about race. My professor asked the class how many of us were involved in interracial relationships. There was a pause and no one raised their hand. Reflecting, I cannot explain my action but, after a moment passed, I snapped out of it and raised my hand.

My professor kindly asked, “What was that about? Are you ashamed of your relationship?”

“To be honest, I never even thought about it. It’s not that her ethnicity doesn’t matter to me. I love it. It’s just that she’s always just been Nicole to me,” I answered.

A few months later, I had my first encounter with Nicole’s family, most notably her father, who had been a tad ambivalent about me dating his daughter. At first, I worried it was because of my race, because I am a “gringo.” To my relief, I later learned that the reason he was reluctant about our relationship was simply because I was dating his daughter.

Nearly two years have passed since that anxiety-filled Mother’s Day. To Nicole’s parents, I am not simply a gringo, but a gringo who speaks a little Spanish and loves their daughter incredibly.

To my family, she is practically my other half. All of us jokingly poke and prod one another with our racial differences and, quite simply, it is a beautiful thing.

We take great pride in our relationship, especially in the fact that we will be adding a degree of spice to the Morton Family Pot. We also take pride in the possibility of being part of a world in which black and white will be erased and we will all be a beautiful, healthy tan.

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