When Meghan shared that she didn’t want to bring her fears of self-harm to her husband, I related. When she told Oprah, our one true queen, that she didn’t want to bring her problems to him, she wanted to bring solutions, I flashed back to the times I’ve cried in bathrooms in other people’s homes—more than one home, more than one partner—because of racist comments aimed if not directly at me, then around me. When Harry, her husband, gave his own wholly supportive, but also flawed, account of the vitriol Meghan endured, I was reminded of how hard it is to explain to a white man that his love of a nonwhite woman is going to be a problem.
I’ve had partners, my current boyfriend included, who didn’t understand that interracial couples still ruffle feathers until we started dating. The shock Harry expressed upon learning there would be questions about the skin color of his biracial child was the same look on my partners’ faces when folks stopped and stared at us because we were holding hands in public. I’ve seen it when their mothers ask me invasive questions about how dark my other siblings are. Suddenly, for my ex-boyfriends and for Prince Harry, the world becomes a different, more difficult place.
When faced with these situations, the disrupter is often viewed as the source of the problem. The problem isn’t the racism: It’s the Black woman who sees it, is exposed to it, is harmed by it. I know how impossible it feels to tell your boyfriend that his mother, his sister, his cousin, is racist. You don’t win by telling the truth. You don’t win by keeping it inside. Either you or your relationship will suffer. I’m proud of Meghan and Harry for getting out, for choosing themselves and their relationship. I wish I could say my experiences have had the same triumphant ending. Oftentimes, they haven’t.
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I’ve learned to love and put myself first. I’ve learned to have difficult conversations with my white boyfriend. I am lucky, the way Meghan has been lucky, to have a partner who listens and, like Harry, is willing to learn. I’ve learned to put myself and my mental health above the opinions of my partner’s family.
I am whole, happy, unknotted, and so grateful to Meghan for speaking up about something that still happens every day. Over half a century after Loving v. Virginia, interracial couples still aren’t wholly embraced in the States or, as we have all learned, overseas. The more light we shed on this problem, the easier it will be for women like me and like Meghan to value ourselves, our mental health, and our well-being more than the opinions of those who won’t accept us—no matter how many presents we bring to Christmas, how much we cook for Thanksgiving, or how well we curtsy. Simply because of our beautiful skin.
Amber Rambharose is a culture and beauty writer based in Philadelphia. Follow her on Instagram @amberdeexterous
