Beyond Black and White: An investigation of college, relationships, race, and what happens when they mix

As I followed around Akpo, a tall, British-accented 23-year-old from Nigeria who was the subject of a profile for my journalism course last semester, I never imagined what a part of my life he would become—that our interactions would far from end upon the completion of a 1,500-word profile about his hatred of vegetables, childhood in Africa and unceasing party-boy antics. 
 
Some of his friends kindly regard me as "Article Chick," or, better yet, "The Fun Police," but it hardly takes a mocking UPenn frat boy to observe that Akpo and I couldn't be more different: he a dark-skinned carnivore of a Jehovah's Witness who loves to fist-pump the night away, me a lanky, pale Jew from the suburbs who'd much prefer baking cookies and reading Gawker to a night of clubbing—let's just say we wouldn't have much chemistry on match.com.
 
But what started as a wacky written story grew into an equally wacky realer one. And after several months of sharing meals, runs, Friends marathons and many a banter session, it seems the two of us have made a whole lot of jaws drop, admittedly our own included, somehow having made a relationship work amid our differences.
 
We are, ever so literally and figuratively, black and white. Yet interestingly enough, what's perhaps our most blatantly obvious difference—our skin tone—has proven to be the very least of the differences we've had to make conscious efforts to bridge.
 
A big, lovable goon, Akpo will occasionally drop a joke about race: "Katie, why are you staring at me? Wait, you know I'm black, right?" or "Can we get fried chicken and jambalaya for dinner? I'm feeling my roots tonight." He e-mailed me from work the other day asking if I'd interview him for this series, informing me that he has dated someone of practically every race and is a "wise old head most sagacious when it comes to this issue," signed "Pimp Daddy Interracial."
 
When I put out a call for people who would be willing to talk to me about interracial dating, I inevitably elicited a lot of "interview yourself" responses.  But for me, there isn't too much of a story around race and my relationship, though I suppose that's a story in itself.
 
For all the problems and tensions and stigma I see so heavily linked with race in the context of my studies and the news, I look at me and Akpo and feel lucky, or maybe just naïve, to be in a bubble in which color is so secondary—where it's the source of a little comedy but never conflict and where I can walk around holding hands with my giant African without caring or thinking about the color of his skin (unless it's snowing, when he'll remind me, "Dude, I'm black. We don't do this weather.").
 
As I spoke to a diverse group of girls with similarly diverse experiences when it comes to interracial dating, I aimed to capture a more realistic sense of the experience than mine and Akpo's. Even in a country in which interracial marriages have been legalized for 43 years, 50 percent of people report dating outside their race and 70 percent of Americans—including 95 percent of young people—approve of interracial dating, I imagined that with race constantly in the headlines and on the mind, other college girls would have interesting takes to share.
 
For some of the girls I spoke with, race also seemed like an irrelevant issue of the past, but for others, the problems imposed by color—and corresponding family and societal values—were still very real. From what Akpo tells me, he generally finds himself in places where he doesn't experience much racism, though as of a few weeks ago, he was planning on moving to Sarasota, Florida, a place better known for its Confederate flags than civil rights museums. 
 
Now it turns out he just got a job in Philadelphia.  So it looks like he'll be sticking around our sheltered, little world at least awhile longer, which I've interpreted as a good thing.  After all, he doesn't exactly need the racism, and definitely not the tan.

Graphic by Mallory Kelly

MEGAN: "Many times, especially in high school, my friends would jokingly call me an Oreo: black on the outside, white on the inside."
Megan, a rising junior majoring in adolescent psychology at Sacred Heart University, loves music and spending time with Rob, her boyfriend of a year-and-a-half. While she has always been attracted to white guys and never found being of several different races a big deal, she was surprised to discover that other people did.

I was born in New Rochelle, New York, and I grew up in White Plains for most of my childhood. I've grown up my whole life assuming that everyone looked at interracial couples the same as I did. I thought it was normal. My parents are an interracial couple and honestly, just saying "interracial" sounds so strange to me because I've never really used that term or thought of it that way. They're just my parents.

My mom is Puerto Rican and Irish, and my dad is Filipino, German and Cherokee Indian, so I'm a bit of a mix.I've always considered myself to be "mixed." I've joked that I've been able to check almost every box on a standardized test.
 
Many times, especially in high school, my friends would jokingly call me an Oreo: black on the outside, white on the inside.I would always laugh it off and go along with the joke, but it wasn't until recently that I really deciphered what the term really meant. I'm sure that my friends were not trying to hurt me in any way, but I wanted to know what classified a black or dark-skinned person to be deemed "acting white." Are all black people only allowed to be ghetto and uneducated? Why is it such a strange concept for a black person to assimilate to suburban life and want to be successful?
 

To be honest, my parents have never forced me to be in touch with my roots. I was around eight years old when I realized that my family wasn't the typical American family. I went over to a friend's house, and I had never met the mother before. When I walked through the door with my friend, she gave me a strange look and called my friend into the other room. She came back in to tell me that after an hour I would have to leave because they needed to "run errands" even though my mother wasn't supposed to pick me up for another two hours. It turned out that she didn't want her daughter associating with "black people," without bothering to find out anything about me. The sad thing was I was eight years old and my optimistic look on the world shifted at such a young age.
 
I just looked at people as equal from day one. My parents basically taught me through their own relationship. There was never a sit down discussion about race and equality—I was just taught the golden rule.
 
When I was younger and experienced racism for the first time and realized I was the only dark-skinned girl in my group of friends, I would wish that I was white or had lighter skin to feel more accepted. But over time, I grew out of that phase, and today I have no issues with my skin color or race.
 
I've always been attracted to white men my whole life. I think it has something to do with the fact that I've always grown up in predominantly white suburban neighborhoods. So white guys are really all that I've seen and been attracted to. Currently, my boyfriend, Rob, of almost a year and a half is Italian and Irish. Neither of us—or our families—finds it difficult to be in this relationship. But we've received comments from other people, mostly black males who assume that because I have dark skin, I'm black and I'm not dating the right kind of guy. I think it's ridiculous.
 
I did become more involved and passionate about racial inequality as I grew older and began to realize that the world was not as black and white as I believed it to be when I was younger (pardon the pun). Honestly, I don't think about my race at all now other than wondering what my kids will look like in the future since I envision my husband to be white. My dating life has been a bit of a confusing path. I was in a few relationships and out of all of them, only one of the boys wasn't white. He was Puerto Rican, actually.
 
Many times, I've been afraid to bring up the issue of race so I just kept quiet about it. But Rob makes me feel really comfortable, and one day the subject was brought up when we talked about meeting each other's parents. Obviously he was comfortable dating outside his race, but I was worried his parents wouldn't feel the same way. There was nothing to worry about, luckily.
 
Rob and my relationship is great—a breath of fresh air from all of the crappy relationships I've been a part of in my past. We're both very musical—he plays the guitar and sings and I play the piano and sing as well. One of my favorite things to do with him is sing songs that we've either written or do covers of other songs. It's so much fun to do something we love together.
 
I've walked around places with Rob and I've seen mainly white older couples and black males give the two of us disapproving glances and stares. I've also received verbal comments from black males who think I'm not staying true to my race by dating Rob. Sometimes I wish I could just walk around with a sign that states all of my ethnicities and just tells everyone to back off and mind their own business. 
 
Everyone is entitled to her own opinion, but that opinion should never be forced on someone else. If a black person believes they shouldn't date or marry outside of their race, that's their prerogative. If this were a debate question, I would probably tell the other person that their opinion is their own but I respectfully disagree and I do not believe that you can base a relationship solely on race. 
 
This is just a funny joke I heard once before: "Interracial dating is becoming more popular. I see people dating… different cultures, different ethnic groups and different religions. 'Cause people looking for love! They ain't got time to wait for the colors to match."
 
CARO: "My parents have always pushed the "Three Cs": Cuban, Catholic and conservative. But I've never really found Hispanic guys very attractive. Since I was old enough to like boy bands, I've always preferred blue-eyed, blonde guys."
Caro Ragolta, who moved from her predominantly Cuban neighborhood in Miami to start her college career at Harvard last fall, has learned to balance her culture with her "Miami white boy" boyfriend, Colin.

I was born and raised in Miami, and both of my parents and all of my grandparents were born in Cuba.  Miami is a really unique place because it is majority Hispanic, and I'd say about ninety percent of my friends growing up were Cuban, Catholic and conservative, like my parents.  I went to a Catholic school until eighth grade but rebelled and went to a secular high school where I developed my interest in running and engineering.
 
I have a very big, loud, loving Cuban family, and the subject of my family and Cuban heritage actually inspired my college application essay. I was raised bilingual, speaking Spanish almost exclusively with my grandparents and babysitters, English at school, and a mix of the two with my parents.  
 
I've never been to Cuba, and I'm not sure I would go if the opportunity should arise. I know the situation in Cuba is not like the country my parents and grandparents knew and love. But I still feel very attuned with the culture.  My mom cooks Cuban food, I love salsa dancing and I have a large collection of Cuban music. Racially and ethnically, I identify as Hispanic. I am not a fan of the term Latino or Latina because my family is of recent Spanish descent.
 

My parents have always pushed the "three Cs": Cuban, Catholic, and conservative.They encouraged me to date boys who attended Belen Jesuit, a Catholic all-boys high school that was founded in Cuba. When I was in middle school and early high school, I definitely gravitated towards Belen guys. But I've never really found Hispanic guys very attractive. Since I was old enough to like boy bands, I've always preferred blue-eyed, blonde guys.
 
My boyfriend's name is Colin and we've been together over two years.  He was also born and raised in Miami, and actually lives just a mile away from me at home.  He's a rising junior at Northwestern, and we started dating at the end of my junior year of high school. We first met through the engineering program at our high school and then we started running into each other at parties. We first kissed on his eighteenth birthday and officially started going out a few days later.
 
Colin is of German-Irish descent and as white as they come. Seriously - blue-eyed blonde and all. We are very much on the same page on most of the important issues in a relationship, although our relationships with our families are very different.
 
We've never really directly discussed our racial background. Colin is a Miami white boy. He speaks fluent Spanish, loves Cuban food and can salsa better than most Cuban guys.  And the female celebs he worships? Alessandra Ambrosio, Adriana Lima and Rihanna—definitely not white girls. I guess the closest to discussing it we've ever gotten is when we talk about our families.  My family is very large and close-knit, and I have a dozen first cousins, most of who live in Miami. I'm close with about half of my three-dozen second cousins. I am also really close with my parents, and Colin isn't.  At first, I took advice from Colin and rebelled against my parents. Now he has come to respect my ideas about parent-daughter etiquette, although he may not share them, and even called my parents to thank them for letting me go visit him. 
 
Race hardly comes up at all. The only point of contention where race really becomes an issue is when we start talking about our families.  It is really nice to go hang out at his house and know that his parents will not disturb us, whereas I would not ever consider bringing Colin up to my bedroom while my parents are around.
 
I think race is a non-issue in relationships as long as both people respect and appreciate each other's cultures.  I can definitely understand why some people would be against dating outside their race for cultural reasons because sometimes it takes being raised in a particular culture to understand what it's like.  However, a person who limits themselves misses out on the opportunity to create their own traditions, to be an honorary Irish on Saint Patrick's Day or to see everyone's jaws drop when they're out-danced by a white boy.   
 
JESSICA: "I wonder if I hadn't worried so much about the future, children, society, friends and family that maybe I would have pursued this relationship a bit more."
A recent graduate of James Madison University, Jessica took a liking to a black guy she met at school her sophomore year. But things never went further than friendship, partially because of the conflict dating a guy of another race would pose.
 
My mother is Irish-German and my father is Polish-Ukrainian, so I'm Caucasian.I'm from Long Island, New York and grew up in a very diversearea.  While my neighborhood was primarily white, my town and schools were extremely diverse—white, Hispanic, black, Asian, everything. My elementary school was located in a more impoverished area, which was populated mostly with minorities, but I grew up in a nicer part of town. I had friends of many different colors and religions and didn't care that we had differences. My family was extremely supportive in all of my choices in friends. 

There are no interracial couples in my family, but I have many friends that have interracial parents. Some of my best friends growing up were black, another was Chinese-Italian and another had parents who were Jewish and Catholic. I recall my mother telling me that she would support me with whomever I fell in love with.  She said, "You may find the most wonderful black man that will give you the world. I just worry that your life might be difficult."  I understood what she meant. "When I think about what neighborhood you might live in, or how your children will have to grow up, or how society will accept your family unit, I worry."  My mother loves me, and I know she would support me in anything I do, but worry all the same.  
 
I met *John my sophomore year of college through friends, and we immediately got along. While I had never dated a black guy before, I was extremely attracted to him and was curious as to how the relationship would play out. He had mostly white friends and was thought to "act white" as well.  He came from a wealthy family, dated mostly white girls and went to a prestigious university in Virginia.  While we never became an official couple, we showed affection for one another and visited each other for years. He attended a semi-formal event of mine, and we took pictures that I showed to my family. I recall my dad saying at a family gathering, "Don't show that picture to your uncle if you don't want to hear about it." Currently, my brother is dating a girl who is German-Indian. She is a beautiful and sweet girl and holds strong Indian traditions.  Occasionally, they face some joking criticisms.
 
John's parents visited him at school while my friend and I were there for a visit.  I remember hearing them say, "Goodness John, you always have white girls hanging out here."  He also once told me that he had a poster of a beautiful black model in his room hung up to please his parents. 

John and I were never an official couple for many reasons: school, our busy schedules and commitment issues.  But in the back of my mind I may have always thought of what my mom said:  "I worry that your life will be difficult." I wonder if I hadn't worried so much about the future, children, society, friends and family, that maybe I would have pursued this relationship a bit more.