the whole thing out in my head of how I thought things might play out. It would either be a disaster or perfectly fine. I chose to go with the latter and began to calm myself down as we arrived and Doran parked the car. I looked at the building that seemed way too close.
“Ready or not here we go baby!” Doran shouted as he turned the car off.
“I know. I guess I’m ready. Let’s just do it. The longer I sit in here the more I’ll try to talk myself out of it. So let’s just go,” I said reaching for the door handle to open my own door.
Doran ran around to meet me on my side and grabbed my door. I hopped out as confidently as I could under the circumstances. Though inside it felt like my heart was about to pound out of my chest and my stomach was on a washing machine spin cycle. My mind was racing. I had shortness of breath and my mouth became as dry as the Sahara desert. I looked up at the building and there seemed to be a million steps between us. Each step that I took toward it seemed like a step closer to my death sentence.
I thought to myself, “This is worse than death. What am I doing here? Am I crazy?” Again as if reading my thoughts Doran gave me a reassuring look as we approached the front door of the building and he walked ahead of me to open it.
He whispered in my ear, “Just breathe baby. Just breathe.”
I nodded feeling a slight sense of relief in knowing that I was not going through this alone. I still carried the weight of my own thoughts as I walked the walk of shame trailing behind Doran as we approached the check-in table. For some reason I didn’t feel worthy of walking beside him. Doran was a strong, fine as hell black man who all black women with working eyes adored. Despite what we were going through he still handled himself with such confidence. He was so in control and exuded such self-assurance.
Meanwhile, I felt like the scum of the earth in my white skin. I felt ashamed as if I had in someway wronged someone. I felt afraid. I felt the stares of everyone around pierce me like a sword. Again my breathing became more shallow. I thought that at any moment I would just faint, but I talked myself out of that because I didn’t want to bring anymore attention to myself than was already on me.
Then it seemed that instantly we were at our seats. I was so lost in the hell of my own thoughts that I couldn’t even remember how we got there. The venue wasn’t the fanciest. In fact, it was kind of a hole in the wall. It was an old house that seemed to have been transformed into a meeting hall. The walls needed a fresh coat of paint, the floors weren’t leveled and the windows were old and drafty. It was located in the heart of the city in N.W., D.C. not far from Howard University on Irving St.
In somewhat of a haze I sat down quickly and lowered my head down almost curling up in the seat as if it was a safety net. I looked around slowly taking detailed notes of my surroundings. I took mental notes of who was sitting near me, whether or not they seemed bothered by my presence. I looked at how visible I was to the speaker and tried to determine whether I would be a distraction. I looked at how close to the end of the row I was in case I needed to make a quick exit. I also looked around to see if there were any other interracial couples there. It was then that I got the shock of my life!
12
To my surprise, as I glanced around the room I noticed that there were in fact several other interracial couples in attendance. I had to close my eyes for a few seconds then re-open them again to take a second look to make sure that I wasn’t seeing things. I thought for sure that my eyes were playing tricks on me.
I looked to the front of us and there was a sistah that I remembered seeing at some other events sitting there with this average height, slim white dude with dark
“Ready or not here we go baby!” Doran shouted as he turned the car off.
“I know. I guess I’m ready. Let’s just do it. The longer I sit in here the more I’ll try to talk myself out of it. So let’s just go,” I said reaching for the door handle to open my own door.
Doran ran around to meet me on my side and grabbed my door. I hopped out as confidently as I could under the circumstances. Though inside it felt like my heart was about to pound out of my chest and my stomach was on a washing machine spin cycle. My mind was racing. I had shortness of breath and my mouth became as dry as the Sahara desert. I looked up at the building and there seemed to be a million steps between us. Each step that I took toward it seemed like a step closer to my death sentence.
I thought to myself, “This is worse than death. What am I doing here? Am I crazy?” Again as if reading my thoughts Doran gave me a reassuring look as we approached the front door of the building and he walked ahead of me to open it.
He whispered in my ear, “Just breathe baby. Just breathe.”
I nodded feeling a slight sense of relief in knowing that I was not going through this alone. I still carried the weight of my own thoughts as I walked the walk of shame trailing behind Doran as we approached the check-in table. For some reason I didn’t feel worthy of walking beside him. Doran was a strong, fine as hell black man who all black women with working eyes adored. Despite what we were going through he still handled himself with such confidence. He was so in control and exuded such self-assurance.
Meanwhile, I felt like the scum of the earth in my white skin. I felt ashamed as if I had in someway wronged someone. I felt afraid. I felt the stares of everyone around pierce me like a sword. Again my breathing became more shallow. I thought that at any moment I would just faint, but I talked myself out of that because I didn’t want to bring anymore attention to myself than was already on me.
Then it seemed that instantly we were at our seats. I was so lost in the hell of my own thoughts that I couldn’t even remember how we got there. The venue wasn’t the fanciest. In fact, it was kind of a hole in the wall. It was an old house that seemed to have been transformed into a meeting hall. The walls needed a fresh coat of paint, the floors weren’t leveled and the windows were old and drafty. It was located in the heart of the city in N.W., D.C. not far from Howard University on Irving St.
In somewhat of a haze I sat down quickly and lowered my head down almost curling up in the seat as if it was a safety net. I looked around slowly taking detailed notes of my surroundings. I took mental notes of who was sitting near me, whether or not they seemed bothered by my presence. I looked at how visible I was to the speaker and tried to determine whether I would be a distraction. I looked at how close to the end of the row I was in case I needed to make a quick exit. I also looked around to see if there were any other interracial couples there. It was then that I got the shock of my life!
12
To my surprise, as I glanced around the room I noticed that there were in fact several other interracial couples in attendance. I had to close my eyes for a few seconds then re-open them again to take a second look to make sure that I wasn’t seeing things. I thought for sure that my eyes were playing tricks on me.
I looked to the front of us and there was a sistah that I remembered seeing at some other events sitting there with this average height, slim white dude with dark
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