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Of course, there are always the people who meet us for the first time and automatically assume the odds stacked against us. Wow." But what those people see in us says far more about who they are than it does about who we are.

I'm a black girl who grew up in a predominately white neighborhood.

I don't remember thinking about the possible issues we could face as an interracial couple or from the fact that I would be a Jewish woman from New Jersey dating a Bangladesh-born, Queens-raised Muslim woman.

It's probably a mix of naïveté and the way infatuation clouds clarity, but throughout our now two-year relationship, race hasn't been an issue for us.

I recall much argument that night among us four travelers about what my friend should have done or what each of us would have done, but I never blamed him.

Each generation can only try to make fewer mistakes than the last. I never thought I had a type, but I had also never dated anyone who wasn't white before I met my current girlfriend.

I had never in my life even come across these, but I knew that if I wanted the dad to approve of me I had to at least try.Across the table from me was a South Korean guy who had watched videos of me eating KFC during his time serving for his home country's national military.He had told me that watching my videos made him happy and miss America.Now we were on a first date because I am a crazy narcissist.I asked him careful questions about his years in the service and his home country.When I was younger, my mom always told me I should date (and eventually marry) "within the race."When I invited my first serious boyfriend — who was white — to the house to meet my parents, my mother actually asked him if his older brother was "as pink" as he was, referring to his skin color. A few years later, when I was in college, she told me she had given up on the idea of me marrying a black doctor and was beginning to look forward to the day when she could meet her "zebra-baby" grandkids.I'm Hispanic and dated an Italian girl from college a few years ago. Her mom was sweet and I always felt like she had my back and made an effort to get to know me, but my girlfriend's dad definitely gave off the "you're not good enough for my daughter" vibe.He directed us to a hotel where he had already made a reservation.He probably had less money than we did, and the hotel, more like infested motel, certainly reflected that.As we approached Chicago, I called him from a pay phone (this was pre-cell phone era) to let him know when we were arriving.He sounded very stressed; he said that we could no longer stay with him because his mother had been recently mugged by a black man and would not stand to have a black man in the house.

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