A National Public Radio essay this morning alerted me that today is Loving Day. I had never heard of it. Loving Day, it turns out, commemorates the 1967 U.S. Supreme Court decision Loving v. Virginia. Mildred and Richard Loving were an interracial couple jailed in the 1960s for violating Virginia's ban on interracial marriage. Eventually they fled the state rather than face more jail time, but from their new home in Washington, DC they filed suit in federal court, arguing that the ban was unconstitutional. The case made its way to the Supreme Court, and on June 12, 1967 the court struck down the Virginia law, effectively voiding laws against interracial marriage in 16 states. Richard Loving died in a car accident in 1975; Mildred died last month. Together they had 3 children.
I was struck by this case because my own marriage is, in a certain sense, interracial. I am white and my wife is Punjabi Indian. Since Indians are often included under the Caucasian umbrella, our marriage may or may not have qualified as interracial under the old laws. Still, my sympathies are deep. Interracial marriage is not defined by the net difference in melatonin concentrations between two skin samples. It is defined by the way society reacts to your marriage, and the way it regards your children. Since my wife and I have at times experienced feelings of uncertain acceptance, I feel we have known at least a hint of what the Lovings knew. Moreover, since my wife is a first-generation immigrant, and her family's first language is Punjabi, not English, there is a cultural difference between us that is in some ways deeper and more nuanced than that experienced in an interracial marriage between two Americans.
It is hard to believe the Loving decision was in 1967, within the span of our lifetimes. My wife and I live in Mississippi, one of the states that had strong anti-miscegenation laws, and yet, I am happy to say, we have not had very many problems. That alone is a reason to celebrate.
But that is not what I am thinking about now. I am thinking how glorious it is to be married to someone who is different from you. How beautiful the differences are, how being married to someone from my same cultural background would at this point seem so, well, boring. Our challenges have been our triumphs. Our scars are the testimony of love, far more so than a marriage certificate can ever be. It is sad to think that within a generation past there were laws to prevent such sublime joys, but we learn. There is no stopping us now.
Today is a great day. Happy Loving Day to all.