Oct. 19, 2005
I did something scary a few weeks ago.
No it wasn't bungee jumping, or sky diving, but either of those two might have been easier than having my girlfriend, Jessalyn, meet relatives from the "motherland."
My grandmother and aunt are in the states for an extended visit from Bangladesh.
We've already played meet the parents, and then meet the extended family. But relatives from another country? This could get dicey.
You see, Jessalyn is white, and I'm, well, not.
I was tempted to paint her face brown. Or make her always stand behind my relatives. Or claim she had a skin disorder. I could even have just tried to convince them both that their eyesight was going and that she really was, in fact, brown. Anything to ease the racial tension that would come with meeting old-fashioned relatives from the "old world."
I'm aware it's 2005 and that interracial relationships aren't taboo to most people anymore. But that memo didn't make it all the way around the world, so I think my aunt and grandmother approached the meeting with about the same level of fear I did.
For the most part it went smoothly. Uncomfortable leering and evil eyes were kept to a minimum. For sure though, there were some uncomfortable moments - like when my aunt pulled me aside and, wagging her finger with an accompanying shake of the head, told me Jessalyn was "too white, too white."
Can't help who you love, I told her.
Perhaps I also should have told her to keep the race comments to a minimum, too, because a little while later, she walked out and asked Jessalyn why she "goes for the dark people." How do you answer that?! I'm not sure anybody did.
My grandmother, though, was the source of some comedic, and perhaps morbid, moments. She started to wax philosophical in her limited English so my girlfriend could understand, but soon gave it up and switched languages. She had her arm around Jessalyn, and slowly, the conversation (or rather her monologue in Bangoli) switched to her talking about how she would most likely be dead for future big events in our lives. All the while Jessalyn flashed her smiles and nodded in agreement, not realizing my grandmother was going on about death.
It was a little funny when I later told Jessalyn what my grandmother was saying. Just a little.
While there were a few cultural gaffes that weekend, I guess I can count my blessings that no one killed anyone else, right?
Perhaps my relatives are more progressive than I give them credit for.
The genXchange column appears every other Wednesday. Ahmad, today's writer, is a copy editor for the Press & Sun-Bulletin. E-mail him at features@pressconnects.com.
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