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It's Not Always Easy
You know, it's not like I wake up and say, "I won't give any man a chance unless he's Asian." It's not like I stalk Chinese restaurants or nail salons in hopes that a Chinese guy there takes notice of me. It's not like I'm obsessed with everything Asian. Yeah, I'm open-minded to cultural differences. I don't mind learning an Asian language or trying Asian food or listening to Asian music.
I don't mind at all because I feel that's how I grow and learn as an individual. But because I display the slightest interest in other cultures, I somehow become the weirdo; the child that just wants to embarrass her family. I become naive and stupid. All of this because I simply choose not to live inside a box; because I want don't believe in that "separate but equal" BS from the civil rights movement.
These days I always avoid trying to talk about me. I tend to come off as unfriendly or cold because of that but it gets tiring defending your ideals and beliefs. It really does. And I think to myself, is this really worth it?
Why not just let Asian guys keep procreating with Asian girls? Everybody will be happy and we'll still all be oppressed by the "separate but equal" deal. Sometimes, I think I'd rather not be attracted to Asian guys. I'd only rather just date black guys. Which I do mostly anyway nowadays. But even with the sweetest of guys, I never truly feel like "he's the one!"
Even still, we can walk down the street together and nobody stares. I can bring him home and my family will be relieved that at the very least he's black. I can be accepted by everyone if I just stick to dating a person of my own race. No judgments, no explanations, no lips curling up and eye rolling because they just can't understand why.
But then I look at my daughter, who happens to be half West Asian. I think how beautiful she is and how sweet she can be at times and I know for a fact. My daughter is the end all be all of my world and I realize every time I look at her that race really doesn't matter. She doesn't see color when she looks at me; she only sees her mommy, whom she loves dearly. She is proud to hold my hand and gives me hugs and tell everyone that'll listen to her that I'm her mommy. There is no complicated issues of race between us.
So, in the end, race doesn't matter when there is love to give you strength.