I’m that biracial woman who wrote that letter to her white father. Now he’s answering it.

A year ago I wrote an open letter to my Dad and a bunch of people were pissed. Since I’ve already aired my views, I thought it was fair to give my Dad a chance to share his thoughts. Had I known what I know of him now, I think I would’ve been a little less angry.

When I was born did you anticipate facing racism as the father of a mixed-race child? Did you discuss it with Mom?

No I didn’t and I should’ve. We talked about it briefly but there where just other things that were more prominent at the time.

I had Jewish, Armenian, Puerto Rican, Italian, and occasionally the odd African-American friend at school, but I never thought much about race when I was younger. It was such a mix in our area that we weren’t sensitive to it.

So when I was in college and found that people would disrespect others for the color of their skin I was shocked.

I dated all sorts of women — Puerto Ricans, Blacks, Italians, Jews, but I was kind of ignorant of the realities that someone like yourself deals with every day.

Even when I would date Black women and we were chased around in the streets by racists in the South, I was just so shocked.

When it eventually came to marrying Mom, I’d always seen her as beautiful and was really taken by her; I really loved her. The fact that she was Black passed through my mind in terms of whether we’d have problems, but then I thought, we’re in San Francisco and in New York City, we’re not gonna run into that — or so I thought.

When you were young everyone in our neighborhood liked us — we didn’t experience much. But I remember that guy (homeless, middle aged Black man) who was harassing you on the streets and we finally had to call the cops. When I’d take you downtown, we got a lot of hostility, primarily from Blacks. I guess I was naive enough to think, “What are you talking about?” People got so angry and came up with these nasty things. I was afraid. When someone would get in our face all I wanted to do was get you away.

How could I argue with ignorance?

Well, you can educate people, but I can understand how the timing is never right with raging bigots. How did you opt to deal with these racist attacks?

My reaction was born of a certain pacifism. I used to get into a lot of fights as a kid and I decided that I was no longer going to fight. I’ve been trying to maintain that all throughout my life.

When people would accost Carolyn and me — I remember I wanted to kill this guy for insulting her. We’d just gotten out of the theater and this man foul-mouthed her: “Nigga what you doin’ with that White boy?”

Carolyn helped me because I was going after the guy and she pulled me into the cab. I knew she was right and we had to get out of there, but I had to go up on the roof and it took me a couple of hours of just shaking with rage to finally calm down. I knew I couldn’t do anything to stop this…

We had a number of events like that in San Francisco and Los Angeles when we were dating. At that time, Carolyn’s group of friends were mostly Black and Jewish. We’d go to parties and I knew I wasn’t really welcome.

Carolyn was a good looking woman. Why shouldn’t she be with some Black man or something?

Anyway, I was conditioned a certain way by all these experiences to be a pacifist, not to fight. I’m against war and all that, but it doesn’t mean I won’t lose my temper.

So when you came along I was trying to know what to do with you — you’re supposed to be responsible for this life.

Since we weren’t running into issues in the neighborhood, none of that stuff dawned at me at first.

Can you talk more about opting not to send me to school in a Black neighborhood? How did that conversation arise?

Mom actually didn’t think it was a good idea, but thought you should have more experience with people who were a shade closer to you. I understood that but the schools were not good. I had experienced difficulty in Hunter’s Point. You don’t want your child to be exposed to it — you don’t have the confidence that your child will be mature enough to deal with those things and come out un-scarred. I said, “There’s no fucking way.” It wasn’t a healthy environment in which to try and learn.

Were you ever concerned about me not having any Black friends in grammar school? Or that I may be unfairly treated by biased teachers?

When those two boys called you names at school I went straight to Mrs. Harris and told her, “I do not expect this from this school — it’s unacceptable.” She kept apologizing and knew it was wrong. She corrected it and got apologies.

To think that one school would be different from another might’ve been a sign of my naiveté.

Have you heard of the comedian Dave Chappelle? In an interview he spoke about how he felt he was treated differently from his fair-skinned brother at a young age. I remember very early on getting punished in ways that seemed overly aggressive — Mrs Hughes in the Pre-k and Mrs. Garthwaite in the 1st grade.

Studies have shown that White teachers often have implicit biases and discipline Black and other kids of color much more harshly.

I believe that, but I grew up in a period where people believed all you needed was love and we had idealistic and very naive attitudes about people, that we can get along. It was shortly after all the problems in the South, and in my generation before that there wasn’t much mixing. It was weird. We were starting to mix and having different experiences. We began thinking idealistically and other people were not.

Though race might be primary to you at times, what’s primary to us as parents is making sure you’re educated, raising you in a good environment, and making sure that you’re well. That’s what parents need to do.

I would not have wanted to believe that these teachers would do that and hoped that you were misbehaving a bit because you were at that age.

But I didn’t live in your skin enough. It’s hard for you to store a lot of these injuries and I didn’t have any experience with it myself because I’m not you.

When we were thinking about where you’d go to school… I think your Mom was happy when she was in monied situations and I was worried you’d get into that.

Become a snob?

Right.

Weird. You guys both grew up poor, but seemed to have different ideas about wealth. Mom did work hard for hers though. So did you.

I wanted you to be somewhere where there were ethnic people — at least non-White if they weren’t Black. You were a little girl and my job was to protect you, but I didn’t know what you were experiencing. All I wanted to do was put a shield around you.

As you got a little older I’d say, “You can’t let this get to you, these are ignorant people.”

When Mom died I felt open to more criticism and questions since I was no longer the little mixed girl standing in between an interracial couple. You were dealing with a lot at the time, but did you ever think about how Mom’s death may have compromised my identity or ability to feel comfortable in the world?

That’s another naiveté — it’s what I wished of the world more than what the world was. It’s the thing where you say, “If I’m with my daughter do people have to question that?”

How did you feel when I came home crying over how Black girls treated me in high school?

I didn’t know what the hell to do for you. I knew I wasn’t knowledgeable and I was just reacting as a Dad. Life got in the way — I was making sure I could pay the bills and keep peace at home.

I got frustrated and stressed, and then angry. I’m not saying it was right but I didn’t know any other way.

I felt hurt for you... being a father and feeling like you’re responsible, but not being able to do anything for your child. The first thing you want to do is beat the shit out of these people, but even if you could do it, that’s not the answer. I don’t know what the answer is in a world that’s so flawed.

I remember this Puerto Rican kid saying to me, “The Guineas look down on us, and we look down on the Blacks.” It’s like, in order to have any sense of self worth, you have to shit on somebody else.

I think it’s a lot worse in African Diasporic communities though, with the history of slavery and racism and colonialism and colorism.

Of course. I mean Jesus could’ve been a Black African and was his treatment part of the racism of the time? There are a lot of things we don’t know or that are hidden from us.

That’s an interesting theory. After all, the whitewashing of history is real…

It is. And I did get angry with you and frustrated trying to convince you that people are fucking ignorant and will be ignorant until the day they die. They will try to wound you. The only thing you could do was — like your Mom used to say — “Hold your head high.”

And she did. She was very classy that way. “Oh you’re married to him?” I’m sure it bothered her to no end but I was hoping that some of her strengths would make sense to you. Half the time you go through life on a wing and a prayer just hoping that things will work out.

Black men gave me a difficult time, mostly through street harassment. White people have always been more subtle about their prejudices. Was it harder to understand subtle bigotry and micro-aggressions? Like when I’d ask if the local corner store accepts (credit) cards and they’d say they don’t accept EBT, or when I’m followed around while shopping?

Remember when that White lady clutched her bag when you were walking in your own neighborhood?

Yeah she was actually the receptionist as Dr. Bruccia’s (our dentist).

Is that right? Maybe someone should just beat that shit out of her to fulfill her fucking fear. Jesus Christ.

While people might not be threatening to beat you up or hang you, they allow you to navigate the world but there’s always something there. When I began to experience these things, it first started out with shock and a sadness I’d never experienced before. Then it turned into anger, and then rage, and all I saw was red. That’s why you saw me popping off all the time — snapping at people and giving them attitude. I know that made you uncomfortable.

When you were young you had no reason to expect that. And then to get out in the larger world and start experiencing this stuff...

It’s kind of like a wound that never heals. It’s always being reopened — ripped open. Do you remember at Safeway (the grocery store) when people would ask, “separate or together?”

Yea. They still do it now. My response was,“Together,” idiot. I mean, what the fuck?

All I know is that I still deal with anger. In my apartment building people think I’m a little crazed. I just lose my temper. How can we be so inconsiderate of other people?

What did you do?

I broke windows and lights and mirrors off cars (because people had blocked the driveway).

Oh my god. Off one car?

No. I’m trying to learn to control that now.

Well that’s terrible, but I do wish that sometimes you had used some of that anger to defend me.

Ange, there’s a rage in everybody about the wrongs that they have gone through.

I can’t seem to get the world to change — to be reasonable or respectful. You see it in symptoms of racial tones. I see it more in other things. I look like the people in power, so I know it’s easier for me.

That makes me think of White privilege. Do you think moving out of the 60s but still carrying those ideas about equality has prevented you from —

Knowing things? Absolutely. We wanted to change the world from the shitty place it was to something that was more idealistic, and something we thought possible. But nobody wants to think of themselves as behaving ignorantly.

Considering what you know now, if you could do anything differently, would you?

I wish that I was more sensitive. My whole upbringing is if people treat you like dirt, you put your head down and move ahead. I may not understand people but I try to treat them with respect without regard for who or what they are. That’s all I can do. I can’t beat somebody up or abuse them and expect them to get the message that they shouldn’t be nasty and malicious fucking bigots.

Your Mom wouldn’t talk about these things because they didn’t have a resolution. There were a lot of things I would’ve liked to have asked her.

A lot of White fathers emailed me after my — uh, rant. What advice would you give to the fathers of mixed-race children?

I think you learn, you read, and make friends. You try to understand everyone. The only thing that anybody can do is become more knowledgeable about other people and how they suffer.

You need to create healing. Your grandmother used to say that things would be better when everybody was mixed. It’ll be difficult, but it’s not a bad idea. Though, it will be over the dead bodies of a lot of people.

What about just listening? I know you always listened, but I don’t think you heard me.

I think you’re absolutely right.

Well, thanks for listening now.

Yeah, this was nice.