I ran across a book on Amazon by an acquaintance from my college days, Intended: a marriage in black & white. It’s a memoir of growing up in Illinois, with a focus on her painful 5-year engagement to marry George, a black man, and the racism she encountered. It’s very well written, understated, and it does finally end well.
I didn’t know her, but in our little Bahá’í community of Normal, Illinois it wasn’t possible to not follow her story as it unfolded, and some of the anonymized people she refers to I knew at the time. I met her in a group during my first week or so as a freshman, and I remember 2 things: She intentionally wore mismatched socks, and she was a very talented mime artist. I met George once or twice but never talked to him — he had a very soft & kind voice, and he went on to become a social worker.
What Sharon brings out so well was the racism we absorbed just growing up in southern Illinois, never aware, for me never even showing because I almost never met a black person so I didn’t have to face my own reactions. She quotes one of her most supportive and open-minded friends asking her “but what about the children?” Now, 45 years later and in a more diverse city, I can see that such children are very cute & wonderful, but I can remember the fear then. And George’s family had the same fears.
From the acknowledgments:
The first story in this book was prompted by my friend … she posed a question: “Is there a story from your childhood that would have predicted your life now?” I immediately thought of the Black doll I loved. And thinking about that story led to more stories that revealed a clear path, an intentional one to the life I have.