I am getting married on 7/7/07 to the best man I know. I am Caucasian and he is Korean. Our families have been happy to celebrate our love and although it's not perfect (when is it when joining two families together?!), it is pretty good.
I met the woman who would be my wife in 1991 (she's black and I'm white). We were friends for several months before considering a relationship. Both of us had been in interracial relationships before. She proposed to me three days before Christmas in 1992 and we married on March 18, 1995. We faced prejudice from both sides of the family but once we started having kids, family relations improved dramatically. We have two biracial sons now and have been happily married for 11 years.
For the past four years as an African American I have been dating my wonderful girlfriend who is Chinese. We met in high school and started off as best friends and soon ended up lovers, I still remember the day I took her to the prom in her beautiful white gown.
So far the people where we live are very accepting and respectful of my girlfriend and I except for the occasional blatant stare we get when walking down the street, but we have been strong and faced down every challenge.
My husband and I met in Nepal, where he was a Marine Security Guard at the embassy in Kathmandu and I was a Peace Corps Volunteer in a village far from the capital. Today, nearly 16 years (12 married) and four beautiful children later, I'm still taken aback when I think that some people once considered our marriage and children an abomination...and that some still might.
I grew up the eldest of two South Asian women in an Indian-American family. Given my family's particular brand of South Asian culture, I was not only raised to be very aware of race and aspire to a "model minority" aesthetic but to be "extremely discerning" with regard to my choice of marriage partner.
My wife and I met in my hometown on Long Island. She is from Tanzania and I am Italian-American. My parents really surprised me. They love my wife so much, I think more than they love me, sometimes.
My husband and I have been married for almost 18 years and have three school-age sons. We both came from ethnically mixed neighborhoods, and as we dated, we encountered few problems because of our different races (he's Chinese, I'm white). Once we were engaged, however, our families had some struggles with the relationship.
I am white, and the love of my life happens to be black. We met in elementary, but barely knew each other. Once we entered 6th grade we really hit it off, became best friends, and eventually began dating off and on. In high school we became a lot more serious and inseparable. I met his mom before, and she seemed really nice and understanding until she realized how serious we really were. She told him to end things between us. She hated the idea of him dating me. He told me about his mom and together we tried to convince her how much we needed each other, but she still didn't want us dating.
I am the product of an interracial marriage. I am married to a caucasian man and made the choice - not because of his race, but because of how wonderfully he treats me and because of the special friendship we continue to share after 12 years of being with one another. As a product of our love, we now have two beautiful racially mixed children and share a wonderful life. Our children will grow up knowing that it is not what matters on the outside, but what a person's heart and soul are that make the difference.
I am Mexican-American and my boyfriend is white. I told him about Loving Day a few weeks ago. He must have taken the holiday to heart because he chose to commemorate Loving Day by proposing to me! He took me by complete surprise by proposing as we hiked with our dog on a trail overlooking Lake Tahoe. I couldn't be happier and I would like to wish all the love and luck that we have had on all of the interracial couples out there.