I have been dying to start this blog, but I sat around for what seemed like forever trying to find a clever title. I can't, so I am going with this one. No one will appreciate it besides me, but hey, it is MY BLOG, right? The name came to me as I was thinking about my family dynamic. As it happens, I am white. My husband is black. (He prefer's to be referred to as black, so you probably won't see the words african-american in my blogs.) We are in an "inter-racial" marriage, to be politically correct. For me it is just a marriage, but I don't have any others to compare it too, so I won't ever know if there is truly any difference, other than the occasional dirty look or ignorant question. We are just Mama to a Diva and Daddy-o, trying to keep the love alive, raise our daughter, and not kill each other in the process.
So, back to the whole blite not whack title, as I am sure by now you are at the edge of your chair. When our daughter was born, we realized that we didn't agree on how to define her ethnicity. She clearly not white, not black. As I sometimes say (corny as it sounds) she is beautifully blended. My husband prefers to say she is mixed. It just doesn't sound right to me. When I hear mixed, I can think of nothing but a bag of nuts. That's just me. Not the vision one hopes for when referring to their precious little gift from God. I lean toward the politically correct and call her biracial. My husband says it sounds so technical. So I decided that we would say she is blite. After all, we can't be saying she is whack. So blite is our happy medium. Nobody else has really caught on, but maybe we'll start a movement or something. You never know.