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A while ago, I saw an ad in Washington City Paper requesting participants in interracial relationships to contact one of your writers for an upcoming story (“Love Knows Color,” 11/21). I remember thinking, at last, someone is going to go beyond the crudity of the “jungle fever” stereotype. With great anticipation, I awaited this article. I was sure that someone might explore with a psychologist or a social scientist what other possibilities might result in interracial dating. Could this be some attempt on the parties involved to close racial divergence, one kiss at a time? Could it be that the two individuals may answer for each other some higher, nobler need? Perhaps the people involved held each other in such high affection and tender regard that the only logical step was an emotional involvement? If love, as has been suggested, is like a fever, could it simply have been that a particular man and woman sought each other as a cure, regardless of the color of the vessel? Or (horrors) could it be that various people decided they were going to be with each other and screw what anyone else thinks?

Alas, no. Your writers seemed less interested in actually and honestly exploring the subject. Indeed, it appeared as though they were fixated on either seeking solace for their inabilities to find their black knight or trying to prove how “down” they were. How sad. And how parochial. What about other mixtures: black/Hispanic, black Hispanic/white Hispanic, white/Asian, Arab Moslem/white Jewish, etc.?

Yes, yes, I know. There are those in our society who enter into relationships for a number of pathological reasons dealing with race, ethnicity, skin color, etc. However, I encourage City Paper to please try again, and this time with a different set of writers without the same personal insecurities.

Takoma Park

via the Internet