The Seven Year Itch
“To say he wasn’t a fan of non-black people was the understatement of the century.
He became a small successful businessman strictly serving the black community to avoid working with them, talking to them, or dealing with them in any way shape or form. His body was in the now but the 1950s and 1960s would forever color his perceptions of the world, relationships, and view of a woman’s place in the family. She thought she’d pitch him the idea of a multiracial relationship to gauge how receptive he might be to the idea. If he didn’t melt like the Wicked Witch of the West in a thunderstorm, then maybe....
J.J. tried to feign some semblance of courage. He’s sitting here crying about grandbabies.
Why does the daddy’s color matter? All sperm swims in the same direction, doesn’t it? she thought to herself.
“I said . . . he’s white . . .ish.”
“Ohhhh, lawwwwd!” he cried out, getting a little preacher in the pulpit dramatic. “My child’s been brainwashed by ‘the man’!
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