Choosing to Love Someone for Who They Are
by @bethvogt
Last October, my son Josh remarried. His wife is a beautiful young woman named Meagan.
I remember months earlier when my husband and I talked with Josh about his relationship with Meagan – about how we knew he was falling in love with her and yes, her three children. We could see they were transitioning from “we’re just friends” to something more serious. Something that, given time, would involve his words, “Will you marry me?” and, most likely, her yes that would change both their futures.
Rob and I sat in my office in our home in Colorado Springs. Josh’s face filled the screen of my computer as we Skyped. We’d talked back and forth about different things, but at last I said,“You know you’ll deal with people’s negative reactions.”
“We already have, Mom.” Josh’s tone was earnest as he sat in his apartment in Seattle. “We were walking together around the city and had someone drive by and yell ugly things at us.”
No specifics needed to be mentioned. We could imagine the things they’d heard.
Hard to believe … but it’s true. And all because Josh is white and Meagan is black.
I’d experienced racism years ago – not directed at me, of course. But I’d had several black friends in high school. When I’d invited one of them to my house, I’d been unsure how my parents, particularly my father, would react. All went well, but the anxiety was there.
Truthfully, back then, I’d been concerned about how my friend would be treated that night – but I hadn’t thought about what he faced day to day.
And now, months later, with two joyous “I do’s,” Meagan’s history is woven into our family tree.
Of course, there is no way I can say I understand all she has experienced in her life. I’ve only caught glimpses, as she’s shared parts of her story with me.
- Being given a “white” name by her parents, so she would be accepted more quickly on job applications.
- Being told by a high school teacher that she was better off as a slave. Excuse me? And then being told by her parents that she shouldn’t have stood up for herself by challenging the teacher about what was said, as well as going to the principal about it and being removed from the teacher’s class.
- Being called a derogatory name that starts with “n” by her abusive first husband, who is white.
And now . . . now I wonder what my three new GRANDkiddos – her children, the trio I welcome with wide open arms – will face as they grow up. What they’ve already faced. I’ve seen my son and daughter-in-love deal with one daughter being bullied in school because of the color of her skin.
This young girl’s story? Most definitely woven into my story now.
I want to understand … because if I can understand Meagan’s story, some of the discrimination she’s dealt with … then I can love her better.If I can understand what my three new grandchildren have experienced, what they face each day when they walk out their front door … and if I can understand what my unborn granddaughter will have to deal with … then I can love them better.
And I can understand others’ stories better, too. And yes, respond to them with love.
Uprooting Racism from Our Family Tree http://bit.ly/2FPOH9Q #relationships #racism Click To Tweet 'I have decided to stick with love. Hate is too great a burden to bear.' Quote by Martin Luther King Jr http://bit.ly/2FPOH9Q #racism #hope Click To Tweet
Comments 18
When I was young I didn’t mind
the call, of “There’s the Chink!”
The callers, they would soon find
broken noses before a blink.
I didn’t care about their feelings,
didn’t care for prejudice
but in their racist dealings
they invited a bloody mess.
Now an Asian is a math-whiz,
a genius with bits and bytes
but can you say, what is this
but nuanced racist tech-insights?
This package is not yours to measure
unless you aspire to count God’s treasure.
Author
“This package is not yours to measure
unless you aspire to count God’s treasure.”
So well said, Andrew. The issue is our man-made measurement that is found wanting … that so often makes another person less than the so much more than they are.
Beth, your post made me tear up. Racism is ugly, no matter its form. I love your way of embracing Josh and Meaghan and your grandchildren with love and acceptance.
Author
Jeanne: What Meagan and Josh share — what they bring to our family — is a blessing. Their three children — and the grandchild we are all eagerly awaiting — are all beautiful sources of joy. I thank God for each one of them.
Beth, I love this! I love that that your family is willing to step into these difficult and uncomfortable conversations. And I love that you are using your voice to challenge others to think about it, talk about and consider what it might be like for people of color on a daily basis.
Author
Thank you, Barb, for joining the conversation today. I love and respect you for so many reasons, friend.
I’m glad that I was raised by a father who traveled the world over and taught us that everyone was the same under the skin. Wishing Meagan and Josh the very best!
Author
Pat: Yes, that is something to be very thankful for. I will share your best wishes with Meagan and Josh.
Your post about racism is one more reason on a long list that I’m grateful to be a military brat. I grew up on an Air Force base until I was in 4th grade where living beside all sorts of different people was the norm. My parents didn’t have that privilege in the South where they grew up, so Mom washed my hair time I got home after getting it tangled up in one of my black friend’s rollers … and that’s just one of many stories I didn’t understand for a long time.
When I started to school in South Carolina, I wondered where the black children were. When schools integrated, I was in junior high by then and a little nervous when Mom encouraged me to go to private school like some of my friends. She let me choose not to, but not before scaring me that something bad might happen for crossing to that side of town.
We had the same discussion as y’all had with Josh when our son dated a black girl – how his grandparents, friends, and the community would react. He said the same thing too, that they’d already dealt with unkind reactions.
All I could think about through that experience and others like it was I am sure I’m also prejudiced and close-minded in ways I don’t even know … just like I was towards depression before I knew better, but I’m willing not to be. I’m willing to open up more and learn more and accept more, which means I love a whole lot more. The best part. 🙂
I just LOVE and appreciate so much all that this post made me think about. Thanks, Beth, and all the best to Josh, Meagan, and their little ones. They’re a precious family.
Author
Kim: Thank you for being part of the conversation, my friend. I leaned forward as I read your words. When he was in high school, my husband was caught up in the desegregation busing. (Remember The Titans, anyone? Yeah, we do.) Anyway, because he lived in a predominantly black neighborhood he was bused to a “better” school with his neighbors. How ironic. Our kiddos were military brats too — and I’m glad it widened their perspective of the world and of people. Their view of the world is more wide-open than mine was growing up.
Our family is truly red, yellow black and white and we couldn’t be more proud. We have an adorable Chinese nephew, My husband’s family are card carrying native Americans, I’m as European as can be (British and French), one daughter in law is black and our new gorgeous granddaughter is a mix of all that love. Our three adopted kids are part Ukrainian and part Jewish! From blond hair and blue eyes to the warm inky beauty of an abundance of melanin, I adore them all. ALL are precious in His sight! May we choose to love.
Author
Choosing to love … yes. It’s a choice again and again and again … and I love meeting other people who have chosen to love. To see how other people live love out loud.
You can’t control society. You can only control how you act and react. Love. Kindness. Understanding.
Author
Truth, Denise. Truth.
A beautiful reflection of your heart. Thanks for posting, Beth. Praying for all those you love.
Author
Thank you for praying, Cara.
Beth, I was caught up in the whole “busing thing,” too. While they built new desegregated elementary, junior, and high schools, I was sent to a predominantly black school. As a fourth-grader it was frightening, mostly because I’d seen how our own class had treated one small boy in our own class. He was one of three black children in the whole school and he cried everyday.
Instead, my fourth grade teacher treated me with love and respect. I learned much more than multiplication that year. I love how you have welcomed Josh’s new family the same way. May your families bless each other and those around you.
Beautifully said and so needed.