Piles?

By now, you've likely heard that some racist dickfuck in Louisiana denied an interracial couple a marriage license because "it is his experience that most interracial marriages do not last long."

Hang on for a second. I'm going to go get my folks -- a white man and a black woman -- who have been married 39 years and ask them what they think about the longevity of mixed-race marriages. I should be careful, though -- this might be the straw that breaks the camel's back and causes them to get a divorce. Because people of different races hooking up often leads to incidences of arson, looting, insider trading, extended sales on housewares at K-Mart, and rampant sarcasm.

"I'm not a racist. I just don't believe in mixing the races that way," Monsieur Pigfucker told the Associated Press on Thursday. "I have piles and piles of black friends. They come to my home, I marry them, they use my bathroom. I treat them just like everyone else."

First: "PILES"?! Do you mean "bodies"? I'm lucky to have a lot of friends -- not just Negroes! -- but I've never referred to them as a "pile." A flock of friends, yes. A pride. (Ha!) An army. A prickle. A murder, even. Wait. Scratch that last one.

Second: I'm so glad you're allowing the Negroes to use your bathroom! My but aren't you kind? Be careful, though -- them darkies might use this as leverage to get the right to vote and eat in public with people of other races!

Third: If you're "treating them like everyone else," then people who are stupid enough to befriend you must enjoy being treated like shit.

Fourth: Not allowed to marry the person you fell in love with? Huh. Something sounds familiar...

Fifth: I'm still stuck on "piles" but I will attempt now to move on.

It's been a long time since I've heard someone use "But what about the children?!" "argument" for disproving of interracial relationships. But it's also been a long time since someone told me I was "one of those GOOD black people," since someone said "they didn't think of me as a nigger," and since I actually had to explain why being called a "half-breed" was an insult.

MAN, I've known and befriended some stupid and racist people.

Dumbfuck McAsshat thinks multiracial children "suffer" and he "won't help put them through it."

Look. Life hasn't always been easy when it comes to being biracial; I won't lie. But we're not going to get anywhere by trying to keep the races separate, like 100% black, white, or Asian children are automatically exempt from being teased. (And yes, when I say 100%, I understand that we're all mixed to some extent, one-drop rule, etc.)

I can't even get into half of my thoughts about what it's been like to grow up between two cultures because there's really too much to say. For the most part, I'd say it's been pretty keen. I've had the chance to explore both sides of my heritage, to feel part of both African-American and Caucasian cultures and to also feel wholly unique as a "Halfrican-American*," and to educate people about the fact that I'm not so different just because I don't have to wash my hair as often as white girls do. (Seriously -- every day? Doesn't that get OLD?)

* It's too bad that Rush Limbaugh (a) is a dick and (b) coined that term because I actually think it's kinda funny.

I've absorbed a lot of shit from people who are flat-out ignorant, including people who claimed to have not seen a black person until they were in high school or people who've asked me if I'm able to tan. (It's... skin. So... yes.) I should've deflected their stupid words and "compliments" like their idiocy was binging off my Wonder-Woman-esque gold bracelets, but I didn't. Maybe I wasn't built that way when I was younger. I was probably too busy not liking myself because kids on the playground had deemed me too tall and too fat, because boys whose skin was almost the same color as mine decided to call me a "black nigger." But it doesn't mean that I would change a second of my life -- not one, goddamn second. I believe that I would choose the exact same path if given a chance to cosmically view the first 35 years of my life because as much as some things have sucked, there is so, so much more that has been wondrous, full of joy, laughter, smiles, and happiness. I am the little brown diapered baby sleeping on my father's much-paler bare chest. I am the woman who compares my plump, tan forearm to my mother's slimmer, darker arm and notices our differences but also the similarity in bone structure, how we hold our hands, gesture when we speak. I do not suffer my parents' union, the color of my skin, the fact that more people than I can count have asked "What are you?" I celebrate King V and Queen S' coupling and my cocoa-colored skin and shake my head at stupid questions. What am I? Awesome. And that's all you need to know.