`Why I Married A White Man'

Ebony, March, 1999 by Myrna Allen Cook

I must admit that until I was approached about writing this article, I certainly had not realized that my being married to a man other than a man from my own racial background would have been considered a preference or choice. This is a matter of opinion obviously not shared by many other African-American folks in America today.

My personal feeling remains that it was not a conscious decision formed by any one particular experience that led me to cross the racial lines in my search for a mate. For the last 20 years I've lived in Los Angeles and worked in the entertainment business. First as a performer at a record label in public relations, then finally at two motion picture studios. Over the years, I've dated men from various socioeconomic, racial and political backgrounds. Most of the men I've dated I've met because they were somehow connected to my work in entertainment. In retrospect, I'm sure that the men I've dated over the years, if interviewed, would say that I'm difficult, no matter what color they happen to be. I came of age in the '60s and believed the television ads that said, "You Can Have It All." At the time I probably was too young to know what "having it all" meant. I perceived it as an open door to experiencing everything life had to offer.

In light of the latest headlines having to do with the Jefferson/Hemings affair, I was surprised to find that so many Americans, White and Black, were awestruck and chagrined at the DNA findings. I always thought that interracial mixing and marriage was as old as America itself. It hasn't always been flaunted openly in public nor accepted by Blacks or Whites, but the knowledge that the races mixed, dated, married and gave birth to biracial children has been in my understanding and personal experience since my early childhood. Having had interracial couples in my immediate family, I never really gave it a great deal of thought.

I was born in Washington, D.C., in the 1950s in what is now known as the vanishing middle class. I grew up listening to Motown and remember when the Beatles started the British Invasion. I wore the miniskirt, bought my first copy of Richard Wright's BLACK BOY in junior high and was one of the first to wear an Afro hairstyle in my high school ... where everyone laughed and said I should go out immediately and get my hair done. My father was a member of the Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters and my mother was a housewife. I remember the "COLORED ONLY" water fountains at D.C.'s Union Train Station and have memories of seeing Whites seated at the lunch counters while we had to stand. My mother and father moved from the Deep South before I was born. They had lived in Louisiana and Mississippi. I'm sure they experienced and lived the racism of being Southern in the '30s and '40s but definitely did not pass it on to their children. With my own past experiences of racism in America, I'm surprised that we as God's children would let it stand in the way of our happiness. I've been working on my family tree for 10 years and know who the slaves were in my family (six generations ago). Their struggle has not been forgotten.

Our family tradition was to be proud, work hard, get as much education as possible and without fail, go to church on Sundays because we were taught that any problem you might be faced with in life, the Lord most definitely could handle. It never occurred to me that I could not overcome any obstacles having a White mate might pose.

Being born the youngest of six children, I knew early on that I had to carve a niche out for myself if I ever hoped to be acknowledged in the family structure and in the world at large. The air can get a little tight with six people clamoring for attention. In those days, music was still offered as part of the public school curriculum. Music had been a focal point in my household, and my love for it started blossoming early. I took piano lessons and managed to land a spot in the school chorus from age 12 on through high school. That love for the arts carried me into the entertainment world to search out a profession as a singer. The search for realization of my dream took me to New York and then to California, where I lived for 25 years until 1995. I met my husband in the late '60s in Boston, where he was also in a musical group.

I think of the '60s and '70s as a time of experimentation and wakening in the music business. A place where Whites and Blacks were coming together to mix music and culture. At the beginning, our only relationship was that of co-workers. He was attending college in Boston and had many friends who were African-American. I had been married and had one child with a Black man. One thing led to another and--not without repercussions and condemnation from friends--we embarked on what became a 25-year relationship. That relationship eventually encompassed my daughter and we created a family structure, outside of the usual marriage standards. My daughter looks to my husband as a true father-figure and always has. They have a true and sincere love for each other. Of this I am very proud.