EPILOGUE: THE OTHER FIVE WORDS
THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING

C:   The fact that my comment about Adaeze’s headwrap had her questioning our entire relationship made me realize that as close as I thought we were, I really had no idea what she was thinking or where she was coming from.

All I knew for sure was that I didn’t want to lose her—especially over a comment that I thought showed her how much I cared about her.

Completely lost, I finally said, “Okay, babe, can you please help me understand what those looks in the brewery meant to you?

A:   Finally, he’s asking to understand my reality and not just trying to get me to exist in his.

“Thank you for asking that. The thing is—I don’t know for sure what all those looks meant. Is it because I’m Black? Is it because they see me as less than? Those looks could have meant a lot of different things. But any way you look at it, they were coming at me because, in a room like that, I am seen as different.

“So when you said, ‘It’s just people looking,’ it felt like you were downplaying my feelings because those looks don’t hit you the same way they hit me. In those situations, it would help me feel less alone if, instead of defending or explaining away why people are looking at us, you’re more aware of the position those looks put me in, and you give me the space to feel differently about it than you do. That’s why I was asking whether you’re aware of my reality as a Black woman.”

C:   “That’s fair. And you’re right. I hadn’t considered how a situation like that would make you feel.”

For the record, the point I had been trying to make with my headwrap comment—and still stand by—was that I was ready for whatever was to come. I was proud to be with Adaeze for all of her. Her headwrap was a physical display of her culture. I was attempting to let her know that I understood our worlds were different and that being in a relationship with her meant my world would be different. I was trying to tell her that I wanted to step into her world with her.

A:   A whole new wooooorld . . . ! (You’re welcome, Aladdin fans.)

C:   [Laughs and shakes head.] But when I pointed at her headwrap and uttered those fateful five words, “Even when you’re wearing that,” what she essentially heard was, “I know you’re different, but I don’t care.”

The only thing that might have been worse is if I had said something totally cliché, like “All the things that make you different make you beautiful.”

A:   Gross.

C:   Either way, all she was hearing was, “You’re different.” And historically, for Adaeze, that meant “less than.”

A:   I thought I understood what he meant by the headwrap comment, but clearly I didn’t, so we both missed each other a little there.

“I want us to be on the same page, though. I don’t want our different experiences to come between us.”

C:   “I agree. I’m sorry I wasn’t more aware of what was going on. I really do want to be more aware of how you’re feeling in those situations so you don’t feel isolated.”

A:   “I really appreciate that. And your willingness to try really does mean a lot.”

C:   We walked around and continued to talk for almost two hours, and then we found a bench under a tree so we could sit down and rest our legs. It was a beautiful evening. The night sky was perfectly clear. We could even see some stars poking through the metro Denver area haze.

A:   I leaned back on the bench, Chad put his arm around my shoulders, and we stared up at the stars, relaxing in the knowledge that we now had a much better understanding between us. I felt heard, and I felt like I was able to hear Chad better too.

Overall, I was in a much different headspace than I had been two hours earlier, in part because Chad had listened to me and validated how I felt. I had half-expected him to say, “You’re right. This is too much.” Instead, not only was he still there, but he was no longer trying to defend his position. He was genuinely invested in understanding mine and in learning what he could do differently. He was even affirming me, and that was hugely disarming.

I didn’t say much on that bench. I just stared at the stars, listened as Chad said some very sweet things, and took it all in. Then he said . . .

C:   “You know, there is a reason we can have conversations like this and I still want to hang out with you under the stars. There’s a reason you make me laugh more than anyone else I’ve been around. There’s a reason I get so excited every time I see you. There’s a reason I want to make sure you don’t run away when we miss each other in tough conversations. There’s a reason I want to have difficult conversations with my family about our relationship. There’s a reason I want to share you with the world but also hold you tight and not share you with anyone . . .”

A:   I could hardly believe it. All I could think was, He’s still sitting here with me. He isn’t running away. He doesn’t want to leave. He didn’t say he’s done for the night. Is this really happening? Is he really saying all this after we just talked about all that difficult stuff? What is happening?

C:   “There’s a reason I will walk with you for two hours to have a conversation we need to have. There’s a reason I will sit shivering in the cold night air on a bench with you under the stars. There’s a reason I want to sit with you for hours on an unsanded bench that’s giving me splinters in awkward places.”

A:   We cracked up at those last two. I mean, the man says he’s not much of a romantic, but sitting there under the stars and listening to him say all those incredibly sweet things was very, very romantic. Eventually my erratic thoughts stilled, and I relaxed into the unforced genuineness of Chad vulnerably sharing how he felt about me.

C:   “Are you still staring at the stars?”

A:   “Yes!” I replied, smiling but not breaking my upward gaze.

I had been pretty lost in the stars. All I could think was, This is perfect. Don’t look at him or scare him off. Let him talk. Just be here in the moment. Ironic, huh? I was trying to be in the moment with Chad so much that I barely even looked at him.

Then Chad raised his hand to my chin and gently turned my face toward him. Our eyes met for the first time since we’d sat down. He paused for a second, gazed into my eyes, then borderline yelled, “I freaking love you, Adaeze!”

He brought my face to his and kissed me.

It was perfect.

C:   I had been trying to find a time to tell Adaeze that I loved her that whole week, but the perfect moment never came. I was starting to think it wouldn’t happen, so . . . I just let ’er rip.

Ironically, or perhaps perfectly, it came at a time when vulnerability was at its peak between us. I had proven to be totally unprepared for what we were stepping into, but I was still crazy about Adaeze. I still wanted more.

A:   Let me tell you, “I love you” is one thing. “I freaking love you” just hits different. The desperation, rawness, and almost recklessness the word freaking injects into what’s being expressed seems braver and wilder than a simple “I love you.” The stakes seem higher—as does the possible fall from the risk of rejection. With everything we’d been through in our relationship, “freaking” was like an act of defiance. In the face of the racism we’d dealt with, one could wonder how Chad found himself loving me. “Freaking” answered that. There he was, bold enough not only to embrace his feelings for me but to loudly declare them into the night sky.

The audacity.

Since Chad kissed me before I could respond, after our kiss, I reciprocated. “Freaking” and all.

In the course of one evening, we had gone from arguing over headwraps to professing our love for each other. Looking back, I realize I was so fixated on the stars because I was still insecure from being told so often that I was “too much” because of the way I talked about racial stuff. This insecurity made me unsure where this conversation would end up. Truth be told, it was mind-boggling to me that after everything I’d said, he was still there next to me. I wasn’t used to that.

Having Chad tell me he loved me hushed all the fears that he didn’t get it and that we were too different. When he borderline shouted those five beautiful words at me, I realized this was a man who, as much as he could at this point in our relationship, saw me for everything I was.

I’d just spent two hours being real with him about who I was and how I saw things, and he was still crazy about me. The way he fought for me that night caught me completely by surprise—yet somehow didn’t surprise me at all.

C:   It’s wild to think that I’d almost ended things with Adaeze that day with five poorly chosen words, but a few hours later, five more carefully chosen words gave us a whole new beginning.

A:   That was one way Chad led me into pretty unchartered territory. As if telling me, “I freaking love you!” wasn’t enough, he followed it by holding my face in his hands and telling me, “I’m not going anywhere. It doesn’t matter how many walks we need, we will fight for each other, and I will always be here.”

I believed him.

And I still do.

C & A:   The whole headwrap incident, as painful as it was, taught us both a valuable lesson. Both sides carry a certain amount of responsibility in a relationship. One side needs to ask, listen, and learn, and the other needs to be willing to give the benefit of the doubt, extend grace, and try to understand when mistakes are made.

On both of our parts, there were plenty of mistakes, uncomfortable silences, and tears. But there were also smiles and laughs, and through all of it, there was love.

That conversation was just the beginning of us getting on the same page with each other. We still had a long way to go and a lot of long, hard conversations in our future. But this one proved to us that we would be able to get on the same page because now we knew we were wearing the same jerseys. We were willing to fight for each other. We could get in the dirt together, have the hard conversations, and come out better and closer in the end.

That’s what it’s all about—deciding that you care enough about each other to get down in the dirt and wrestle your way through the missteps and misunderstandings, flybys and false assumptions, slipups and stereotypes, and well-intentioned yet wounding comments together. The more you show a genuine willingness to listen, learn, and grow in understanding, the more trust will grow.

It doesn’t matter what kind of relationship you’re in—romantic, platonic, friends, coworkers, in-laws, neighbors—love and respect are love and respect. When Jesus told us to love our neighbor as ourselves, He said the central issue isn’t about who our neighbor is—it’s being a good neighbor to everyone (Mark 12:31). Our neighbor is whoever God is calling us to love. And God calls us to love everyone, no matter how different they may be from us.

A:   If you’ve been labeled “different,” remember that you were created in God’s image, and you are His masterpiece. That means you have all the permission you need to celebrate everything that makes you you. So it’s not just okay to love yourself. Jesus literally expects you to—as much as you love others! So go on witcha bad self! Be your biggest fan. And spread that self-love on to others.

Having tough conversations about race, acknowledging our own blind spots, and having enough humility, patience, compassion, and understanding to foster stronger, healthier interracial relationships isn’t always easy—or pretty. But we can promise you this: it’s totally freaking worth it.