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Later that year, I found myself in my first college relationship with a woman who had the most beautiful red hair, a killer smile and eyes that made you believe you were the most important person in her world. It was indeed a pattern, this desire to date white women. In my relationships, I found a kind of social acceptance I didn’t often find elsewhere. Born in Sri Lanka during the height of the country’s civil war which began in 1983 and ended in 2009; her family fled their home country.
Also, brown and black women had never appealed to me. Eventually, they immigrated to the United States when she was 5 years old.
We were, after all, two women from two different cultures, and in a same-sex relationship.
We tried to arm ourselves with the tools we thought we’d need to effectively combat the naysayers: the family and friends who didn’t quite understand us or our sexuality or why we would want to be together.
Our online profiles revealed the weight of the heartache from past relationships, the struggle of being the “token” people of color in our white communities, and it gave us the opportunity to let our guards down just wide enough to let each other in.
For thirty days, we corresponded like a game of table tennis.
And when we decided to exclusively date one another at the age of twenty-five, I knew I wanted to be with her — forever.
I would learn very quickly what this meant for our respective families, in particular, for our mothers.
Because I’d grown up going to schools filled with predominantly white people.We met when online dating was a little less transactional and more experiential (at least for lesbians). We shared very intimate parts of our souls with an honesty I found to be so lacking in others.During those conversations over email, she offered me pieces of herself, pieces she had not given to others.She would email me at the end of her work day, leaving me with a cliffhanger so raw and thought provoking that I could not help but respond right away.I needed to think about her words, the statements she so carefully offered me in our exchanges, sometimes offering me crumbs of the life she remembered in Sri Lanka.
I still remember the morning after our first night spent together.