What color is love? More than that, what exactly determines love? Is it race? Or blood? Or is it none of those things, and something so simple we understand it as children but lose it as adult?
As adults we have so many skewed perceptions of what love should be, that complicate what love is. We make ourselves have types to fall for. We can’t love someone because of this or because of that, but the real question is why can’t you?
People are people. There are good people and bad people of any and all races. I have never thought that the color of someone’s skin determines love. Nor social status. Or much of anything really. I see people for who they are and I either love them for that, or I don’t.
I’ve always thought that race shouldn’t matter, but it wasn’t until I had a biracial niece and missed out on the first year of her life-because of a stupid boy- that I came to realize how much race really doesn’t matter.