Courtesy of Ashlyn Sullivan

My boyfriend and I started out as friends, like most high school couples do. We tried dating for a while, but we went to different high schools, and when you're a teenager, 10 miles between you seem like an ocean. We dated other people, lost contact, and eventually reconnected online. We started dating again two years ago, just as we were starting college in 2013.

Ra'Montae complements me in every way I can imagine. I am a morning person; he's a night owl. I can't cook beyond the microwave; he can whip up a three-course meal in an hour. I'm loud; he's more laid-back and introverted. But the contrast most people notice about us is that Ra'Montae is black and I am white.

We live in Wichita, Kansas, and even though there were only a handful of minority students in our high schools, the community is, for the most part, very open and accepting of others. Neither of us have witnessed much racism firsthand beyond people sometimes staring when we go out to eat. We've always felt safe.

But last month, something happened while I was working at my job as a waitress at a sports bar and grill that felt like it changed my whole world. I would be lying if I said I had never dealt with rude customers, but usually it's because the order got messed up or a game someone wanted on isn't showing that night. This night, a table of six extremely drunk guys came in. They weren't my table, but every time I walked by them to fill someone's drink, they catcalled me.

At first I ignored it. Why fuel the fire? But by the time one of them blurted out that I am a "fine piece of ass," my patience had worn thin. I turned around, smiled, and said, "Yeah, my boyfriend thinks so too." I immediately wished I'd stayed quiet. The guys all started laughing at me and saying that they were just trying to "compliment" me, that I didn't have to be "such a bitch about things." I was furious.

I told the guys that if they wanted to compliment me, they could tell me that I was pretty and then they could shut up. Maybe not my finest moment as a server, but one of my best as a woman. I walked away pleased with myself. But as soon as I had to walk past them again, they were back to catcalling me and talking to each other about me loud enough that I could hear them. I was making a mental note to avoid this side of the restaurant for the rest of the night when I heard one of the guys say, "There's no way she has a boyfriend, and even if she does, I'd still tap that."

I whipped around and flashed my phone screen at them, the wallpaper of which is a picture of Ra'Montae and me.

Courtesy of Ashlyn Sullivan

The most obnoxious guy immediately responded, "Aw, girl, why are you dating a nigger? They ain't gonna treat you right." I didn't know what to say. My head was clouded with rage. I told the guy he was racist. I told him he could shut up or I would go get my manager to kick them out. "I'm not racist," he drunkenly giggled, "I'm just telling the truth." A few minutes later, they left without paying their tab.

When I got home, I wrote a post on my blog to get all my thoughts, thoughts that were causing me so much anger, out of my head. I wrote for anyone who has stared at an interracial couple or made a drunken comment or even thought it was their business what race someone's significant other is. I wrote:

Let me just get this straight: I am not dating a "nigger." (My hands feel dirty for even typing that word.) I am dating a man with the smoothest brown skin, and curly hair. I am dating a respectable, hard working man who would do anything to make me smile. I am dating a man who helps me buy groceries, wash laundry, and clean my apartment even though he works 40 hours a week. I am dating a man who holds doors for me and everyone else behind him every damn time. I am dating a man who has never been arrested. I am dating a humble man, someone who puts others before himself. I am dating a man who loves motorcycles and music and has a great sense of humor. I am dating a man who cuddles his puppy like a newborn baby. I am dating a man who will eat Hot Cheetos with me while binge-watching Netflix. I am dating a man who tells me I look pretty in glasses and pajamas that I haven't taken off for two full days. I am dating a man who loves to cook, and is sooooo good at it. I am dating a man who spoils me. I am dating a man who loves God like I do. I am dating a man who loves me unconditionally.

Courtesy of Ashlyn Sullivan

Before writing this, the highest view count on my blog in a day was 181 views. This post was viewed 308,430 times in one day. At first, all the comments were nothing but positive, but within a week, someone had posted my blog on 4chan. That night I received over 200 harassing comments. The comments ranged from petty things to some pretty serious threats. People told me that I am going against the Bible, that I'll be single with five kids and on welfare in five years, that I should just go ahead and kill myself. "The pictures of the two of you together are disgusting," one person wrote on 4chan. "It's too bad your parents didn't raise you better. I hope you don't find out the hard way what a poor decision you have made." Even though they made me angry and sad to read, I knew they were just trying to get me worked up. I wasn't going to let someone sitting behind a computer screen get the best of me.

In the end, the positive comments far outweighed the negative ones. One woman wrote, "We are different colors of the same rainbow," and I would write this post a hundred more times if it made everyone think like her.

Ra'Montae noticed my post was going viral after his friends kept tagging us in screenshots of people around the world sharing my blog. He told me he was proud of me, but that he didn't care what people said about it online. It doesn't affect him, or us. And as excited about the attention my post was getting and as scared as I was by some of the comments, he was right. It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks of us — whether they agree with interracial relationships or not. Because we are happy together.

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