When we bemoan Reggie Bush's relationship, we overstate our knowledge, understate our ignorance, highlight our lack of a serious life, and low-ball our own worth.
It's petty gossip masquerading as social commentary, and unbecoming of a "welcoming and open-minded" people.
I admit when I saw his wedding ring, I privately hoped.
But something in me just knew he didn't marry a sister. My body showed no reaction to my inner pinch, but the sting was there, quiet like a mosquito under a summer dress. Did the reality of his relationship somehow diminish his soul's credibility? One could easily dispel the wince as racist or separatist, but that's not how I was brought up. I was taught that every man should be judged by his deeds and not his color, and I firmly stand where my grandmother left me.
Relationships are not (anymore, at least) a collectivist act.
They really come down to two individuals doing business in ways that we will never be privy to.
They go to bed with someone who does, or doesn't, think it's a bad idea to blow the rent-check on school clothes.
They go to bed with someone who does, or doesn't, think it's a priority to keep the living room clean.
Jeter, a Black and Native American woman, and Loving, a White man, fell in love and decided to get married.
They lived in Virginia, one of the states that still banned “miscegenation” – the derogatory term used to describe interracial coupling – so they needed to travel to the District of Columbia to be officially recognized as a couple.
The point about "African people worldwide" is a tip off.