Growing up I was raised to like and date people that were the same skin color as myself. I was allowed to have friends of different races but my interactions with them would be limited. What mattered most to the majority of my family members was that I should never even think about dating a guy of a different race, especially if he was black. I was told on multiple occasions that my family would rather me date another female than an African American.

Even though I knew very well what my family's opinions were about interracial dating, I could not stop myself from growing up to only see people for what they were on the inside. I always chose to look past someone's skin color so that I could get to know them on a personal level. This is why, when I was in high school, I ended up falling in love with a guy who was African American.

I knew when I said yes to dating him that there would be a chaotic and dramatic turmoil ahead. However, being with him seemed to outweigh any negativity that could come my way. Up until that moment, no guy had ever made me laugh harder, feel more appreciated, and enjoy life more than he did. Since I knew my family would disagree with my decision to be with him, I chose to keep it a secret for as long as I could. Unfortunately, we lived in a small town and word traveled fast.

One by one my family began to discover my secret. I had prepared myself for negative comments and very opinionated disagreements. Little did I know, it would be a lot worse than a few harsh words thrown my way. Many of my family members chose to disown me and pretend as if I did not exist. Others would constantly remind me how disappointed they were in me and how embarrassing it was to call my family. I was told that because of my decision to date someone of a different skin color, I would not amount to anything and I would go to hell (it is a common misconception that interracial dating is a sin).

I ignored every single one of my "family members" and continued on living my fulfilling life. One year passed by, then a second and before I knew it, we had been together for five years. Unfortunately, we did decide to go our separate ways in 2017. I took pride in the fact that our break up had nothing to do with the cold looks we received in public when we were together or the hateful comments that many people had made towards us throughout the years.

Now, months later, I still have no regret in spending the last five years of my life with him. Not only have I made amazing memories and cherished several thousand moments, but I have learned more than I ever could have had I chosen to say no to him. I learned to love a human being for who they are as a person, instead of what they look like. I learned who my true family was and who loved me regardless of who I chose to be with. Most importantly, I, along with many others, helped make the world a little more accepting and I chose to love people of all races, ethnicities, religions, and backgrounds.