Thoughts on Get Out from the white person in a biracial/white interracial relationship

I’m sitting in my room, the same one that I have lived in for over fifteen years. The TV is on. Law & Order: SVU. Olivia Benson just held a revolver to her head and pulled the trigger. Guy who played Pornstache on Orange Is the New Black is about to blow his brains out. I’ve seen this one before, and I don’t like seeing Benson like that, not because I think it doesn’t fit her character but because I think I can’t handle seeing someone exert that kind of control over someone, regardless of gender.

The sun is pale, sickly, and there are felled trees all over town from the relentless wind. I hate spring.

I just finished watching Get Out with my girlfriend. She thought it was funny. I thought it was terrifying.

We walked out of the theater and I felt compelled to say something. I wanted to cry. Images of her and her little brother at my family’s annual reunion flooded my mind.

From that weekend:

The three of us sat at one end of the table. My white, great aunt addressed Davonté and I felt something violent rise up inside me. She asked him to come to her. He was too close. She asked him about school.

“This chicken is dry,” Miika whispered to me. My eyes fell on her.

“Huh?” I said.

She was smirking, looking around to see if anyone heard me. “This chicken is dry.”

I smiled. “I know. It has absolutely no flavor.” I looked back at Davonté. She was still talking at him. I called him back over to our table. He sat down.

“I don’t want to eat this,” he said to Miika. A laugh bubbled up from deep in her chest, threatening to burst forth, but she tempered it.

I don’t remember interacting with my family that weekend. One day, we went to Mackinac Island, and I took Miika to the shore. We stepped out on a sandbar and I turned to her, my back facing Lake Huron; I held her hands and opened my mouth to ask the question when she interrupted me–“Will you be my girlfriend?”–and I said yes.

Today:

We were walking to her car and she was walking in front of me. I wanted to cry. I felt compelled to say something.

“Please tell me if you ever feel like that and we’ll go, right away,” I said.

“How do I know you’re not in on it?” she said. A joke.

“I guess you’ll just have to trust me.”

“Good thing I’m taking you home. After that, I’m gone!” A joke.

She dropped me off at my house. I gave her two kisses. I asked if I would see her later. She said nope. A joke.

I texted her, asking if she would tell me if she couldn’t trust me anymore. She said she would.

I don’t object to the portrayal of white people in the film. I don’t object to the portrayal of white privilege in interracial relationships.

I’ve heard people of many different races and ethnicities, especially my own, argue against the compatibility of interracial partners of many different races and ethnicities. This film, in its critique of liberal white racism, also depicts a Black and white interracial relationship which doesn’t just fail–it is inherently threatening.

Am I allowed to object to this?

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