Loving Day
It's Loving Day. I'm always glad that it falls right before our anniversary, because it reminds me that, until 1967, in many states I could not have been married to my husband. That within my lifetime (which does not seem so long, though it's getting longer), my marriage would have broken laws. Love is love is love.
But this year, in particular, I am reminded about how fragile that can be. That there are still people — a lot of people, even a rising number of people, that think that our marriage is an abomination, a sin against humanity.
At the same time, there are a lot of people in the past few weeks that are hopeful for some change in this country, and that are actively working for that change. If nothing else, they are reading about it — take a look at the NY Times bestseller list. And I too hold that hope.
But I can't always seem to get through to people that every single day I worry that my husband will get stopped, injured, or killed — just because of the color of his skin. This is not an all-consuming worry, it's just a fact that's back there, that something might happen.
Sometimes it feels like we have come a long way. And sometimes it feels like we haven't gotten anywhere at all.
ETA: A gentle reminder that it's not about looking black. Beatrix would have been just as unable to marry a white man in early 1967:
But this year, in particular, I am reminded about how fragile that can be. That there are still people — a lot of people, even a rising number of people, that think that our marriage is an abomination, a sin against humanity.
At the same time, there are a lot of people in the past few weeks that are hopeful for some change in this country, and that are actively working for that change. If nothing else, they are reading about it — take a look at the NY Times bestseller list. And I too hold that hope.
But I can't always seem to get through to people that every single day I worry that my husband will get stopped, injured, or killed — just because of the color of his skin. This is not an all-consuming worry, it's just a fact that's back there, that something might happen.
Sometimes it feels like we have come a long way. And sometimes it feels like we haven't gotten anywhere at all.
ETA: A gentle reminder that it's not about looking black. Beatrix would have been just as unable to marry a white man in early 1967:
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