in the name of loving

I have always been interested in law. In fact, I thought I would make a very good lawyer, I even used to pen out mutually-benefiting treaties between my sisters and myself. I also used to watch Ally McBeal, L.A Law and the like, to see how lawyers manoeuvre arguments in their favour. Anyway, my argumentative dexterity is not the point.

Yesterday I was surfing channels and BBC World was airing a program about the Lovings.

For those of you who haven’t heard about Mildred and Richard Loving, let me give you a low down. They were married in 1958 in Commonwealth, Virginia – it was love, if there ever was such a thing – only there was a rub – she was black and he was white.

By making their love public they broke one of Virginia’s vile rules – no inter-racial marriages. Sentenced to imprisonment, denied bail and forced to leave their home town – they took on family, home town and state all for love – and what’s even more ironically, their name was Loving.

In one of the most racist comments I have ever heard – the judge presiding their first case, found them in violation of the ban against inter-racial marriages – he said –

“Almighty God created the races white, black, yellow, Malay and red, and he placed them on separate continents. And but for the interference with his arrangement there would be no cause for such marriages. The fact that he separated the races shows that he did not intend for the races to mix.”

June 12th of every year is celebrated as Loving Day. A day that celebrates the fact that we’ve come a long way since then – or so we claim.

This was a time when racism was at its peak. It inspires us because it is two people fighting for what they believe in. It was the simple struggle for a basic civil and human right. Sure America accepts inter racial couples now, but what about culture? Isn’t there still a prejudice between a person practicing Islam and a person who is Catholic? Or a Hindu and Muslim?

Give youself a pat on the back, because we have risen above the bigotry, and we have looked beyond the colour of our skin when it comes to love.

So far beyond in fact, we’re now looking at our Gods.

update

I have often been told that heart break makes for great copy.

I think I finally realised that this, is indeed true.

For the past four months or so, I have been happy. Satisfied. Pleased, contented even.

And it’s scaring the crap out of me. The unrelenting cynic within me occasionally creeps up like a little ugly thing. And then I push it back down, with the help of a sweet, gentle man.

Here are some confessions:

I turned 26 yesterday
I’m smitten
I have a feeling he is smitten too
I’m not sure where it’s going, but I’m happy
I’m so happy; I haven’t written a blog in a month.
I don’t think I’m used to being “taken”
I find myself not staring at the hot guy in the gym.

I’ve been reformed. I’ve been changed.

And what’s more, he’s so gosh-darn pretty

:)