Ready for Love

by Catherine Maiorisi

  “Not exactly problems but the issue of how they deal with it out in the world has come up recently. You know, they get things like you can’t really be sisters and it hurts.” Joel waved a finger between Erik and himself. “Since we’re two black guys we thought maybe talking with a mixed-race woman would be helpful.”

  Renee was stunned. She glanced at Constance for support but all she got was slightly raised eyebrows, which she took to mean she was on her own. “Truthfully guys, I don’t know how helpful I can be.” She scanned the room, her gaze bouncing from Gina to Elle to the two teenagers, and back to the two gay guys trying to do right by their adopted daughters. She decided she could trust them. She took a deep breath. “Actually, I’m dealing with this issue in therapy right now so I may not be the best person until I get my own head on straight, so to speak.”

  Erik nodded. “It could probably wait a little while.”

  No, it probably shouldn’t wait. The sooner the girls figure out what they feel about it the better. “Listen, I’m planning a dinner Monday night to discuss the issue. I’m asking Gina and Beth and Elle and Tori.” She glanced at Constance. “And I hope you’ll come, Constance. It would be great if you guys could make it. It might help you with the girls as much as I hope it will help me.”

  Erik shook his head. “I’ll be out of town Monday.”

  “I’m a definite yes, Renee,” Joel said. “Elle is calling us to dinner. I’ll get the details later.”

  Chloe sidled over to Renee. “Is it all right if we sit with our friends?” She pointed to a table where Cara was sitting with Moira and Megan, two other girls and three boys.

  “Sure.” Renee waved to Cara who was watching them. “Have fun.”

  Renee and Constance took seats at a table for twelve and Gina and Beth, Francine and Jennifer, Elle and Tori, Karin and Julie, and Maya filled the other seats. Renee glanced up at the tap on her shoulder. She jumped up and hugged Lucia who she hadn’t seen since Darcy’s wedding. “Lucia, it’s good to see you. We missed you at Songfest.” She looked around. “Is Candace with you?” She hoped not. Many members of their circle were still angry with Candace for keeping Darcy’s accident, which left her helpless, a secret from all her friends, causing her to feel isolated and abandoned and to become angry and volatile.

  Lucia clung to Renee. “She decided it would be better for everyone if she skipped it this year. She’s going to a couple of AA meetings and in between she’s serving dinner at a homeless shelter. But I’m glad to be here. I miss you all.” Tears filled her eyes as she hugged one after another of the women who crowded around her.

  When Lucia was free, Renee introduced her. “Lucia, this is Constance, my, um, an old friend. Constance, Lucia, a member of the Inner Circle from college.”

  Constance took Lucia’s hand and smiled. “Nice to meet you, Lucia. I love your pantsuit.”

  “Thank you. It’s one of my own,” Lucia said.

  At Constance’s look of confusion, Renee explained. “Lucia is a designer and she has her own fashion line. She’s in all the better department stores and boutiques.”

  Lucia planted a quick kiss on Renee’s lips. “Thank you, my love, it’s still hard for me to toot my own horn.”

  Constance placed an arm around Renee’s waist. “Well if that suit is any indication, I’ll have to get a list of where to find you.”

  Dared she hope Constance was feeling jealous? Renee patted Constance’s hand.

  Lucia eyed Constance. “I have some pieces that would look lovely on you. I’d love to show you my entire line.” Lucia turned to Renee. “Bring her to my workshop, Renee.”

  “I will. Will you join us for dinner?” Renee indicated the empty chair near Maya.

  Elle called for quiet. “Welcome everyone. Tori and are so grateful you’re able to share this Thanksgiving with us and with each other. The food you all brought looks fabulous and I can’t wait to dig in. I’m sure many of you feel the same. Tori and I are truly thankful to have such wonderful friends and we appreciate all you do for us throughout the year.

  “After dinner we’ll have a time for anyone who would like to share something they’re grateful for, and maybe Renee and Maya would lead us in a song or two. Now I won’t delay any longer but to keep things orderly let’s serve ourselves one table at a time starting with the youth table and moving toward the door. We’ve put sparkling water and soda on every table and there’s plenty more near the bar. There’s red and white wine on every table except for the teenage and children’s tables and plenty more behind the bar. There’s also tap water if you prefer. Helpers please raise your hand. If you need anything grab me, Tori, or one of the helpers, and we’ll do what we can. Enjoy.”

  Later that night, with the girls in their bedroom, they were on the sofa talking about the day and Constance was full of questions. “So how many of the women there were your lovers in college and after?”

  Renee laughed. “Honestly, I never counted.” She blushed. “But a lot of them.”

  “How long were you with Lucia?”

  “A few weeks, maybe a month, my junior year.” So she was right earlier. Constance was insecure about Lucia. “But as usual I moved on as soon as someone else interested me. Remember, I told you the two months you and I were together was my longest relationship other than Darcy and Gina?”

  Constance was a woman on a mission. “And casual was how it was for you until now? Were we casual?”

  “I’ve been celibate about a year but up to that time it was casual sex.” Renee took Constance’s hand. “I wouldn’t characterize us as casual. With hindsight, I think I fell in love with you the first time we locked eyes as I sang love songs to you at that party. You were different. I was turned on by you, but rather than rushing to get you into bed I wanted to get to know you, to spend time with you. I think I told myself we were casual in the beginning, but by the end, I knew I was in love with you. That was why I started to pull away.”

  Constance kissed Renee, no tongue, but the kiss was intense, filled with feeling. She squeezed Renee’s hand. “There was a lot of talk about going to Paris for New Year’s Eve. What’s that about?”

  Renee blanched. Damn, was she ready to risk bringing this up now? “Darcy and her wife are throwing a New Year’s Eve party in Paris. She’s reserved a hotel and many of their friends are going for a long weekend, or more, to celebrate with them.”

  “And you?” Constance asked, her voice reflecting her uncertainty.

  Renee felt bad. This wasn’t how she’d pictured this going. The last thing she wanted was for Constance to feel uncomfortable. Yet, instead of presenting it as an exciting opportunity, a trip to Paris to meet her family and ring in the New Year, she was making Constance drag the invitation out of her. “I committed to spend two weeks around the holidays with my family in Paris.” She cleared her throat. “And I was thinking of asking if you and the girls would accompany me as my guests.”

  “Thinking?”

  “Yes. No. I’m inviting you. I would love for you and the girls to be my guests in Paris for New Year’s Eve and as much of the two weeks you can stay with me.”

  “This sounds like a big deal. Can I think about it?”

  Nice going, Renee. Constance isn’t sure she believes you want her to come. Now Renee was the one feeling uncertain.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  It had taken a while, but Renee had finally acknowledged that Olivia was right, that being biracial was a fundamental issue in her life. In the last two sessions, Olivia had encouraged her to dig deep to expose the fears and the self-hate that kept her from committing to love and being loved. It was painful and scary but cathartic. Together they’d isolated three emotions stemming from being biracial that had influenced her life negatively—self-hate, guilt, and anger.

  Olivia agreed it wasn’t necessary or appropriate for Renee to discuss her self-hate and the relationship issues it caused in a random group of friends, so tonight she would bring up her guilt, and though it hadn�
��t been a big issue for her, the anger that seemed to bubble up frequently these days.

  Renee surveyed her little focus group. One black and white couple, one black couple, a black gay man and the uninvited white man he’d inexplicably brought. Last but not least, her and Constance who didn’t look like a mixed-race couple but were. And that was the issue.

  Renee was pissed at Joel. Thinking the conversation would help him and Erik deal with their mixed-race daughters, she’d invited him even though they weren’t as close friends as the women who were here, and he’d invited Ed, a white friend, without consulting her. Talking about something so personal with a stranger in the room made her uncomfortable. She couldn’t throw him out so she’d proceed as planned and hope he didn’t put a pall on the discussion.

  She’d decided on a buffet to keep things informal, so they could sit around in the living room and talk while they ate. When everyone was seated with food and drink, Renee cleared her throat. “Thank you for coming tonight. You know I asked you here to discuss being biracial. I’ve recently discovered in therapy that being mixed race is more basic to who I am and how I live my life than I allowed myself to know. This is a very personal subject for me and I invited only people I felt I could trust enough to open up with.” She met Ed’s eyes. “And to be frank Ed, I’m not sure why you’re here.” She hadn’t intended to show her anger but there it was out in the open. “I apologize. I don’t mean to be rude.”

  Joel glanced at Ed, then shifted his gaze to Renee. “No, I’m sorry. I should have cleared his coming with you, but I only learned he was in town an hour or so ago. Ed and I grew up together. We lost touch years ago and since he was coming to New York City he got my number from my mom in Chicago. When he called me from his hotel earlier, it seemed like fate had sent him.”

  Ed smiled. “Like you, Renee, I’m biracial.”

  Renee flushed. “Wow, am I an ass or what? I’m sorry for assuming you’re white, Ed. Please excuse my racism.” She shook her head. “But, damn, if I haven’t just illustrated exactly the issue I want to address.” The group erupted in laughter. “I’m trying to figure out what it means to be a biracial woman who presents as white, and how to deal with the guilt and anger I feel.”

  She smiled at her friends. “No, I didn’t stage this but it is a perfect introduction.” She took a deep breath. “Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to help me figure out how to be two things at once.” Her gaze moved from person to person, holding Ed’s for a moment longer than the others. “Most of you know my mom is black and my dad is white. Growing up in France with my artist parents I was surrounded by a wide range of people, many black but mostly white, and except for some early family things and an incident in the fourth grade, color has never been an issue for me. I thought.” She waited for the nods. “Recently, I realized I’m conflicted. That I feel if I don’t declare that I’m half black, I’m denying my mom, lying to people and enjoying white privilege. And, if I claim to be black, I’m being inauthentic because I don’t have to deal with the slings and arrows that people who present as black deal with every single day. Thoughts, anyone?”

  Tori leaned over and patted Renee’s knee. “I would never have guessed being biracial was an issue for you. You’ve always seemed so comfortable in your skin.”

  “I am. France certainly has its race problems but the slavery issue in the US engendered systemic racism and race is a cultural hot button here in a way that it isn’t in France. So when I arrived at college, being multiracial wasn’t a big deal for me; it was my latent lesbianism that consumed me. But I’ve become aware that I announce I’m biracial immediately upon meeting someone, almost like a warning, and my therapist pointed out that it’s more of an issue for me than I realized.”

  Gina slid to the edge of her seat, as if needing to be close to Renee. “As we’ve discussed Renee, I no longer believe I can tell you how to be biracial and I apologize again for any of the guilt and anger I caused.” She reached for Renee’s hand. “It’s pretty obvious I’m black so I don’t have to decide or declare who I am. Her gaze settled on Joel and Ed. “To give you some background, in college I was a militant black activist in love with Renee, a biracial woman, who lived a white life because of her skin color. We fought constantly because I wanted her to experience and understand the world the way I did. With maturity and a good deal of therapy, I came to see that while Renee was able to understand and react to my world intellectually, it was impossible for her to experience it in the gut level way I and other dark-skinned people do. But I also realized that some part of my anger was resentment because she was able to enjoy white privilege, and to this scholarship kid from Newark, class privilege.” She turned to Renee. “I no longer see simple solutions. I see you, Renee. All your friends, the people you care about and those who care about you know you’re biracial and it’s not an issue for us. The world sees you as white and as you just demonstrated with Ed, that’s just the way it is. While you don’t hide that you’re half black, I get that trying to be black and white at the same time is impossible. You need to just be you. Love yourself like we all love you.”

  Renee hugged Gina. “Thank you, I love you too.” She sat next to Constance again, feeling uncomfortable about putting her friends on the hot seat. Should she change the subject? Constance must have sensed her discomfort because she put a hand on her thigh and smiled warmly.

  Elle’s majestic voice pulled her back into the room. “Gina and Beth obviously have some white blood back somewhere in their families, so like you Renee, they are mixed race, but because of their darker skin color they’re considered black. I, on the other hand, am so dark it would never enter anyone’s mind that I might be half white, which, of course, I could be. That said, if one of my parents were white, would I feel it necessary to explain that I’m biracial? Or try to figure out how to be white? I don’t think so. The world sees me as black. Regardless of my blood, when I look in the mirror, I see a black woman. It’s the opposite for you, Renee. The world sees you as white. And, I presume, regardless of your blood, when you look in the mirror you see a damned attractive white woman, as does anyone who looks at you. From what I know of you, you’ve experienced life as a white woman. Trying to be black and white means you’re neither. Suppose I did have a white parent. How ridiculous would I be if I claimed I was a white woman? Your skin color has chosen for you. You are white. It doesn’t mean you should hide your black family or your black blood. And I know you don’t. It doesn’t mean you shouldn’t stand up to fight against discrimination and oppression. And I know you do. It means you should live your life fully without feeling like you’re living a lie. I agree with Gina. In my not-so-humble opinion, the work for you is not trying to figure out whether you’re black or white. It’s learning to love yourself, it’s learning to accept that you are loveable just as you are, and it’s learning to let love into your life.”

  Renee hugged Elle. “Thank you, Elle. You are wonderful.” Elle kissed her forehead. “So are you, babe.”

  “If I may?” Ed spoke up.

  “Please do, Ed.”

  “I also have a black mother and a white father. He left my mother right before I was born and I grew up in a totally black environment in Chicago, as did Joel. Though I have light brown hair and blue eyes, I have always felt black. And, even though I present as white, I was mostly accepted as just another kid on the wide continuum of colors in the neighborhood. I only thought about my color occasionally.” He sipped his wine. “Until I went to college. There I was welcomed by whites and rejected by blacks. But after a while, my white friends thought I was crazy for insisting I was black and rejected me, and the blacks I tried to socialize with rejected me for the same reason as Renee was rejected, because I could never understand what it is to be black. I did manage to have a couple of friends, both black and white, but I spent a lot of time during those four years reading and thinking about race, about myself. No matter how I look to the world, culturally I’m black. My experience i
s the same as my two darker-skinned half-brothers and the friends I grew up with. I define who I am. And I don’t let anyone tell me different.”

  “Have you encountered problems working and living that way?” Constance asked.

  Ed smiled. “Of course. But I live in a black neighborhood surrounded by black friends and family, and I work in an organization fighting to improve black lives. I occasionally get stared at when I’m with my darker-skinned wife and children, but it’s not a big issue. Do I still get weird looks and questions outside my community when I say I’m black? Yes. But I patiently explain and if they don’t understand, so be it.” He picked up his glass but it was empty.

  Grateful for a minute to process what Ed said, Renee leaped up for the wine bottle and filled his glass. “Anyone else?” Ed grew up in a predominantly black world so he feels black and identifies with the black part of him. But she grew up in a mostly white world and never gave much thought to her color. When she moved to the US, her whiteness was assumed and she broadcast that she was mixed race. He was at peace with choosing but she felt she didn’t have a choice. Was she lying to herself? Was that why she was still wondering whether she could be both? She met Ed’s eyes. “You and I both have blue eyes and white skin yet you feel black and I feel white. So does that mean that how you identify depends on the environment in which you grow up?”

  Joel spoke up. “I’ve been reading any articles I can find on the issue to help us with the girls, and I believe there are studies that show that.”

  Renee made a mental note to ask Joel about the articles. “So, Ed, am I right in thinking you feel we have to go with who we feel we are?”

  He leaned forward. “I hope I’m not overstepping here. But you wear men’s clothes and have short hair like a man. Do you experience any conflict about presenting as a man rather than a woman?”

  Renee thought about that for a second. “Not at all. It’s who I am. Although I might be mistaken for a man, I know I’m a woman. I’m not pretending to be a man. I’m making a choice to be myself.” Interesting. “Good point, Ed. But to get back to race, can I ask if you feel disloyal to your white side because you identify as black?”