Allow me to begin by firmly stating that every day is a “loving day” at our house, a so-pleasant stream of consideration, kind words, pleases and thank yous, and (very often) unsolicited cups of tea. Which is all very nice, but during this exact time of year such Loving shines a bit brighter, as we collectively remember that the legal right for our family to exist in the United States is one and a half years younger than I am.
In 1967 the Supreme Court ruled in favor of a married couple, Mildred and Richard Loving, who nine years earlier were arrested in their own house for the crime of being a married couple, which was illegal in the entire state of Virginia (which was their home) between any African-American and European-Based person (which they were, respectively). Punishment for this crime ranged from one to five years in prison, but the Lovings received a light sentence of just a few nights in jail (even though Mildred was pregnant) followed by absolute banishment from the state of Virginia for the next 25 years…so, 1992.
But they persevered, and made their case, and nine years later Loving v. Virginia was heard in the Supreme Court, who decided in their favor with a decision that not only made interracial marriage legal in Virginia, but in all the 15 other states in the U.S. with comparable laws.
The couple was able to move back home with their children and re-unite with the rest of their families, without fear of further litigation. The Virginia win was particularly symbolic as a law of this kind had been active in that state for over 300 years.
So, you know…older than the nation itself.
In 2007, Ken Tanabe, child of interracial couple, decided that remembrance of this historic case should be an annual tradition. So every year, on June 12th, a national celebration of the striking down of the legal ban against interracial marriage occurs. It’s called Loving Day, the world’s largest celebration of multicultural families. There are picnics and get-togethers and meet-ups and whatnot all over the country.
This year is the 19th celebration, and the 58th year since the verdict. Again, I am older than that court decision, yet live everyday in its glorious benefit.
And I in no way take lightly that we got married in 1992, the original date the Loving’s banishment was to finally end - without their fight, our story would never have begun.
A smooch on the cheek should not feel comparable to grand larceny, yet Loving Day reminds me and mine of how lucky we are that there were brave and noble warriors who were determined to make “us” possible.
In fairy tales, heroes battle for magical rings or enchanted swords that hold the power to move mountains, destroy evil, or transcend time and space. All of the miles that they walk, puzzles they solve, and giant spiders they avoid or defeat (there are always giant spiders) are part of a quest for something ethereal, timeless, and for the most part unobtainable by the normal human/hobbit/wizard/scoundrel.
In real life there always seem to be battles going on, and certainly within those battles are heroes, brave and true, but I sometimes find it difficult to identify the ring/sword/key/prize of it all, save the end of the actual battle. So often folks fight for FREEDOM!™, which sounds like a glorious prize demanding a parade of long colorful banners and golden trumpets, but more often represents the protection of our quietest moments – where we sit on a specific spot, or read a book, or hold somebody’s hand.
At the end of the day, that’s what’s worth fighting for. Every birthday cake, folded sock, homework assist, and Friday Night Kitchen Dance Party holds deeper weight when I consider that it could just not be there, that the wonderful random circumstance which brought us together could have been swallowed by social madness had not heroes quested - not for riches or for power, but for each another.
Thank you, Mildred and Richard. The very idea of ‘Loving’ means more now because of you both.
