By Karyn Langhorne Folan

Love is color-blind. Except for when it’s not.

For many black women, dating a white man pushes romance and family toward a head-on collision. While researching my book, Don’t Bring Home a White Boy (and Other Notions That Keep Black Women from Dating Out), I corresponded with several black women about the challenges and benefits of interracial dating. One issue that arose for many was family acceptance. Take, for example, this letter from a young woman I’ll call Chaka, a 21-year-old college student who had been dating her boyfriend since they were high school classmates. “While my father is totally accepting of [him],” she wrote, “my mother refuses to even meet him or even acknowledge his existence. I’ve asked her why again and again but she just says angrily, “I can’t believe you brought home a white boy” and I feel like I’ve done something very, very wrong.”

Recently, I had a similar conversation with another woman, married for the first time at 50 to a white man. She was distraught after their first Thanksgiving with her sister’s family. Everyone had been pleasant while they were dating her white man and during the wedding ceremony, but at the holiday the underlying racial tensions erupted. “Don’t call us crying when your white man dumps you,” her brother-in-law said at the height of the ugliness . “And he will.”

“I was devastated,” she said. “I’d been alone for so long. I finally found a man who loves me and for the first time in my life I was in a solid and happy relationship. But then I was miserable all over again. I love my husband but I love my family, too.”

Yet another woman wrote: “My mother warned me before I was even of dating age that it was unacceptable [to date white men] and just not allowed. It isn’t until I was much older that my mother was okay with the multi-racial thing. But even now, she would prefer any other race to the white race—and black is always the preference. I’m open to dating white, but I’ve never actually brought home a white man. I guess maybe the words had an impact after all. ”

Their pain resonates with me. Because I did bring a white boy home and have been interracially married since 2005, I understand the unique pressures placed on a black woman in a serious relationship with a white man.

When I was girl, I remember my mother making the “don’t bring home a white boy” comment. I proceeded to give her plenty of preparation for a white son-in-law with the interracial array of men I chose. But in spite of all that, it took a while for her to warm up to my husband partly because he represented much of what she loathed about white racism during her youth.

“If you grew up in segregation or during that angry, angry time of the late fifties and the 1960s, you can’t forget it,” she told me. “I can remember here in Washington, DC how whites treated my father. He was a great big man-a construction worker-and they called him ‘boy’ like he was a child. I remember ‘whites only’ signs. I remember my first teaching jobs in segregated schools, how inadequate the materials were and how the buildings were left in disrepair.

“I know things have changed,” my mother admitted. “But I can’t forget how the white people treated blacks in that time. I just can’t.”

My mother speaks for a generation of mothers who experienced the harsh codes of Jim Crow. But her feelings were echoed by a young black father in his thirties who confessed to me, “I work with whites and have white friends and neighbors. I would say I have no problem with white people in general. My daughter is only one year old but when I think of her bringing home a white man, I don’t like it. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with [interracial marriage] for other people. I’m just being honest about how’d I feel if it were my daughter.”

What’s Bad for the Goose…

Negative reaction to black women who date non-blacks comes from all directions: mothers and fathers, black women and black men, friends and even strangers. Kellina Craig Henderson, a scholar and expert in interracial relationships, found “that black men in interracial relationships received 100 percent support from their families toward them and their white female partners, while the families of white women they dated or married might have any reaction from being totally disowned to enthusiastic support and everything in between.

“With black women in interracial relationships, however, I didn’t find that 100 percent support for the relationship from [their families]. Usually one of the parents had some feelings of dislike or resentment. But for most of the black women I interviewed, over time, her family did come around to a level of acceptance of her white partner.”

Dr. Rachel Sullivan, who has studied interracial relationships for the past decade, says “If you just ask someone who is African American on the street “What do you think of a black woman dating outside her race” you’re more likely to get a response that includes some negative feedback,” she told me in an interview. “But when you make it specific—my cousin’s husband Paul, who happens to be white—African Americans are more likely to reach acceptance.

Kevin and Karyn Folan

“White families, however, tend to be the opposite,” she continued. “In general, they will say that they are accepting of interracial relationships-but there’s a definite feeling of ‘No, I don’t want my son or daughter involved with that black woman or man.’ Once again, however, exposure does tend to blunt the negative impact.”

My own parents, after some months of awkwardness, thawed considerably toward my husband. And, blessedly, there was another incentive – a common one – for them to come to know him better: the birth of our daughter.

Still, having a white man in the family can make for some uncomfortable moments. Once my cousins and I were engaged in a heated discussion about troubles in the black community and lingering effects of racism and white supremacy. My husband wandered into the room and took a seat, listening quietly as I expounded at length. My cousins, who had been ardent participants in the conversation before Kevin’s entrance, fell silent. In a glance, I understood: they were no longer at ease with topic now that there was a white man in the room. “Don’t worry,” I reassured them, laughing. “He knows he’s the oppressor. He’s heard all this before.” It broke the ice and we continued our conversation.

During that exchange with my cousins, Kevin simply listened. But on other occasions, having a white man in the family has presented opportunities for racial healing for us and for our extended families. My husband and I like to think of our marriage as a life-long cultural exchange program where we are both teaching and both learning – and our relationship sometimes forces those around us to re-examine their preconceptions about race and challenges them to reach beyond them.

As my mother got to know Kevin better, her original hesitation about him shifted. At family gatherings now, he feels safe to express his perspective-and to joke about his unique place as the sole white face in sea of black ones.

“I’m not going to get into a heavy racial discussion with your family,” my husband said. “But I do think there’s a place for expressing difference. I try to use humor most of the time. It’s important to me to make sure everyone’s comfortable. So I just follow the lead of the company I’m in and try to build common ground on other things: politics or sports or raising kids or whatever.”

Building common ground has been the key for many of the women I interviewed—women who had heard “don’t bring home a white boy” at some point in their lives.

“Thanksgiving was difficult,” said the 50-year-old newlywed. “But by Christmas, everyone had calmed down a little and it was pleasant enough. Still a bit tense, but I’m optimistic.”

I’ve lost touch with Chaka and I worry that the pressures of both youth and family disapproval might have signaled the end for her and Dustin. If so, she wouldn’t be the only young woman I interviewed who started “dating black” under family pressure. Letting your family’s reactions govern your decision-making can come at high cost.

In the end, your family-no matter how well meaning-can’t live your life. And for me, and many women like me, bringing home a white boy and working through the family issues involved turned out to be one of the best decisions I’ve made.

Karyn Langhorne Folan is the author of Don’t Bring Home a White Boy—and Other Notions That Keep Black Women from Dating Out.  She is also the author of  two interracial romance novels, A Personal Matter and Unfinished Business.