Over time, a number of people have said to me, “Okay, I get it, you’re a White guy married to a Black woman, and you have a Biracial son. It’s enough. You don’t have to keep talking about it.” You’re right. I don’t have to. I’d be happy to stop.
There’s just one problem.
You keep talking about it.
And, when I say “you” I don’t mean “you” I mean all the other “You” out there – the ones for whom race is still an issue. For you, I keep talking about it. And, I’ll keep talking about it and talking about it until:
1. People stop asking us what race our son is.
2. People stop asking us whether my wife is the nanny.
3. How my son will get treated by the cops will depend on whether his skin gets any darker and his hair gets any curlier.
4. Liberal white people with advanced degrees stop pretending they “don’t see color.”
5. The day a Cheerios commercial with a multiracial family doesn’t cause a sh*tstorm of hate mail and racial epithets.
Until then, you’re gonna have to put up with me talking about it.