Back in May, Old Navy tweeted an ad for a 30 per cent off coupon with the image of a white man, a Black woman and a child. These models posing as an interracial family sparked an internet uproar about miscegenation.

“Part of it is because people online are just horrible trolls,” says writer/director Jeff Nichols during an interview at TIFF. “That’s where racists live and breathe.”

Nichols (Take Shelter, Midnight Special) is at the festival with Loving (see review and interview), an intimate and powerful look back at the relationship between Richard and Mildred Loving. Joel Edgerton and Ruth Negga play the interracial couple, whose marriage was illegal according to their home state of Virginia’s anti-miscegenation laws. They took their case to the Supreme Court in a landmark civil rights fight that they won in 1967.

“To say that a court decision came down and all was solved is a gross oversimplification,” says Nichols, pointing to how much progress we’ve achieved but how much further we have to go. “Just because the Supreme Court says interracial marriage is valid doesn’t mean it’s accepted. Same with gay marriage. As a society we have a much more extended period of acceptance, a process that we need to go through.”

Since the Loving case, the number of interracial marriages in the U.S. has grown from fewer than 300,000 to 9 million (6.9 per cent) according to the 2010 census. A 2011 National Household Survey shows that Canada has approximately 360,045 mixed unions (4.6 per cent).

“That’s a sea change, but it’s still a thing,” says Nichols, admitting that even he (like me) sees mixed-race couples as a novelty. “It’s something you still take note of. Won’t it be nice when we don’t?”

In a separate interview, actor Edgerton brings up the incident in August when a white supremacist attacked an interracial couple in Olympia, Washington, with a knife.

“The saddest thing was that part of me was not shocked,” says Edgerton, who has been in interracial relationships in the past and remembers insidious whispers from onlookers.

Whispers are something I’ve noticed in my own relationship.

I’m Tamil. My wife is half-Polish, half-Peruvian, and we’ve been together for 15 years. We’ve had some odd experiences: the surprised stares (which we, too, are guilty of when we see other mixed-race couples) police officers who roll up and ask her if she’s safe. And I’ve also had to deal with my family’s expectation that I would stick to our culture and caste. (Yes, that’s also still a thing.)

Even in the world’s most multicultural city, tensions arise from the potpourri of mixed unions between ethnicities and religions.

So a handful of couples joined us to represent Toronto’s interracial scene and offer some insight on what struggles still persist almost 50 years after the Loving case.

Loving couple #1: Karol & Jermaine

Whenever somebody close to them announces a new relationship, Karol and Jermaine have an immediate first question: “What is he/she?”

Sure, that might sound limiting and beside the point. But they ask because they have no expectations about what the answer might be.

“I expect it to be anyone,” says Jermaine. “We’re asking just so we can start constructing a visual.”

Karol and Jermaine represent a growing generation that has absolutely no familial barriers or cultural baggage weighing down an interracial relationship. Jermaine is from Jamaica, Karol from Honduras, and both were raised by mothers who couldn’t have cared less about the colour of the person their children would spend the rest of their lives with. The couple are raising their two boys in a community that looks very much like them.

Full disclosure: Karol and Jermaine are close friends (she was a bridesmaid at my wedding), and the thing about our social circle is that we’re all in mixed unions. As I gauge this topic with them, we’re stumped to name anyone among us who’s in a relationship with a person of the same race.

“I can’t think of anyone who is Spanish with Spanish, Black with Black or Sri Lankan with Sri Lankan,” says Karol.

The couple say they rarely even take notice when they see other interracial couples, but there are exceptions.

“When you see a Black guy and an Asian girl,” Jermaine notes, “it’s different. You don’t see it often.”

There’s a reason for that. While South Asians and Chinese represent the two largest visible minority groups in Canada, the National Household Survey shows that they are the least represented in mixed unions. The survey also suggests that about 85 per cent of Canada’s mixed unions involve a person from a visible minority group and a white person, as opposed to two people of colour, a revealing stat that hints at the discrimination between minorities.

For instance, South Asian or Chinese parents are sometimes willing to accept a mixed union between their child and someone white. But bringing home a Black partner could make them go nuclear.

That sort of racial hierarchy, passed down from colonial times, is not just in the mindset of parents. A younger generation shares those biases. Dating site OKCupid has been reporting its users’ racial preferences for years. Those people of colour willing to date outside their race show a strong preference for whites and a troubling disinterest in Blacks and South Asians.

So, yeah, even interracial dating preferences can be racist.

“We’re one generation away from that old-school mentality being done with,” says Toronto radio personality JJ King. “There’s too many shades of brown happening right now for that to be able to continue.”

Loving couple #2: JJ & Suzy

JJ and Suzy have been together for almost two decades, married for the bulk of that time. They’ve travelled the world and noticed that shade toward interracial couples comes in all sorts of accents.

During their honeymoon in Antigua, some of the hotel staff had a hard time serving a West Indian man who’d married a white woman.

“One woman was so flustered by us, she couldn’t even pour Suzy a cup of tea,” JJ recalls. “Somebody else had to come over and do it.”

They experienced the worst of this type of behaviour when they lived in Australia. They list a number of racist moments: kids in a campground trying to spell out the N-word loud enough for JJ to hear an old man explaining to Suzy how “the Black bastards next door” are bringing down the property values, who then backpedalled when she told him her husband was Black and she didn’t appreciate that kind of talk.

Getting off a train in Sydney, the couple noticed a construction worker watching them and moving their way as they crossed the platform toward the escalator.

“When we got on the escalator, he got right in my face,” says JJ. “I asked him if he wanted to pass, but he didn’t say anything. He just stared me down the whole escalator ride. I stood my ground and waited till we got off for him to move along.”

Incidents like these in Australia, London, the Caribbean and BC make JJ and Suzy glad to call Toronto home.

“In Toronto, the most we get is a vibe,” says Suzy. “A certain demographic (young women of colour) give me a little stink eye, and another demographic (young white men) give it to JJ.”

That’s something they can handle, and according to JJ – the co-host of 93.5’s Carter and King – Toronto more than makes up for it.

“Year after year I see more and more interracial couples moving in,” he says. “Toronto just seems more accepting and welcoming of that kind of diversity.

“A few weeks ago, I was standing in the park playing with my kids, looking around. Every shade of beige, brown, yellow and white were all together as couples. It made me really happy to see that kind of progress.”

Loving couple #3: Ari & Joanne

When Ari brought Joanne to his parents’ house to hang out and get a quick introduction, his dad spotted them from the driveway.

“He basically shook his head and walked away,” Ari recalls.

Ari is Tamil. Joanne is Chinese and the youngest sibling in a family that had already broken down the interracial barriers. “It wasn’t anything new to my parents,” she says.

But Ari knew his parents thought only a Tamil girl could treat him right. And he was also aware that his dad would worry about what shade the monolithic Tamil community in Toronto might throw at a prodigal son who married out. When Ari announced his plan to move in with Joanne, with nuptials to follow, his mother cried.

“They immediately saw themselves as failures,” says Joanne, trying to contain an infectious chuckle. “They thought they should have reached out and helped him with dating – as if he couldn’t find a Tamil girl so he resorted to me.”

Eventually, his parents gave in. But that just took Ari and Joanne to the next cultural battleground: the wedding. Anyone who’s been to a South Asian wedding knows it involves an elaborate showcase and infinite guest list, something the young couple refused to shoulder.

“We didn’t want to fork out the money to have a 300-person parade,” says Ari. The couple instead set up a lovely, intimate, non-denominational ceremony last May with 75 close friends and family. They also gave Ari’s parents the opportunity to host a follow-up reception to their liking, provided the parents covered those costs.

“That way their friends and their goats from the village can come and talk to my dad and whatever.”

I’m giggling as they recount these stories, mainly because my wife and I went through near-identical steps. It’s so nice to hear that others had to suffer about haggling over guest lists, multiple meetings about what tradition or religious deeds needed to be abandoned and why the traditional red sari must be ditched.

“His mom was so upset that I wouldn’t wear a sari during the first ceremony,” says Joanne. “You really don’t have time for an outfit change. Putting on a sari isn’t like putting on a dress and zipping it up. It’s a two-person job.”

My wife and I conceded to the red sari, the wedding decision we regret most. It meant she had to disappear for 45 minutes during our reception, just as the party was jumping off with some sick soca.

Their wedding(s) are behind them, so I warn Ari and Joanne about the final cultural real estate: the children. Everyone has an opinion on the customs and lessons you must instill.

They sigh. They don’t have to deal with that now. Ari’s parents have yet to visit their home, but the couple are happy to report some warming-up to Joanne.

“I knew I would encounter a lot of resistance,” she says. “But I just knew we had to be patient and wait it out. If you kill them with kindness, what are they going to do?”

Loving couple #4: Tania & Arminder

Arminder was living with his parents when he announced his intention to marry Tania. They gave him an ultimatum: break up with her or leave for good.

“It broke my heart,” says Tania, remembering the pain of the moment and the last-minute scramble to find Arminder a place to live.

Almost five years earlier, Arminder was ready for a traditional arranged marriage to a Sikh girl. Tania, from El Salvador, was open to a relationship with just about anybody but had never imagined dating a Sikh guy.

The two worked at a factory putting together circuit boards. Tania’s embarrassed to admit she used to make “terrorist” jokes about Arminder’s turban and long beard. (He trims it now.) But after a year of lunchroom chats, a relationship bloomed.

They knew things would be difficult. Tania’s older sister warned her that Arminder could leave her if his parents force an arranged marriage on him (something that sadly does happen). She trusted him anyway.

When Arminder told his parents about the relationship after three years of hiding it, they forbade it. The couple pretended to break up, and Arminder worked toward a stable career so they’d consider him responsible enough to make his own decisions.

They hid their relationship for another year – until it got too big to hide, precipitating the break with his family. Though they moved into their own space, the couple ended up not getting married, because Arminder didn’t want a ceremony that fell short of what he’d hoped for.

“If I got married, I wanted my family to be there,” he says. “In Indian tradition, it’s supposed to be a marriage of two families coming together.”

Eventually, the common-law couple had their first child, a girl, and gave her both a Spanish and Punjabi Sikh name. He may have broken from his family, but Arminder never let go of his heritage. After a couple of months, Tania insisted it was time their child met her grandparents.

“I said to him, ‘Take your daughter and go see your parents,'” she remembers. Arminder refused to go without her. He called his mother, the decision-maker in a patriarchal household, and she agreed to welcome the new family into her home. It was the first time Tania had ever met them.

“I dressed my daughter so beautifully,” says Tania. “You know, to show her off. We have so many pictures of that day, with Arminder’s mom holding my daughter and just staring at her face.”

Eventually, the extended family repaired their relationships. The grandparents took on babysitting duties. And when Tania was expecting her second daughter, Arminder’s parents invited the couple to move in. There was some reluctance.

“I didn’t like how they’d handled things,” says Tania, referring to the drama from the past. “But I can’t keep grudges forever.”

“To this day, I’ve never blamed my parents for how things transpired,” says Arminder. “They grew up back home. They wanted their kids and grandkids to have the same upbringing and beliefs. That’s the kind of thing you pass down from generations. No matter what colour or religion you come from, I think every parent and grandparent wants that.

“I know my parents more than anybody. I know they are good-hearted people. Seeing me, their oldest child, go away was a heartbreaker for them. When we came back into the picture with a new granddaughter, it was special. It changes people.”

Tania agreed to move in, but on the condition that she be allowed to live her way while also respecting her in-laws’ customs. The household compromises between meat-eaters and vegetarians rotis and pupusas speaking Punjabi, Spanish and English Catholic mass and the Sikh temple (the kids attend both). Tania goes out some nights with friends despite her father-in-law’s puzzled looks.

Juggling two cultures, particularly when deciding what to teach the kids, is an effort. But Arminder credits constant communication for making it work.

Right now, the couple have another quandary. They have a third child, a son, and are deciding whether to cut his hair for the first time or let it grow out so the boy can work toward a turban.

“I personally want him to have it because I grew up with it,” says Arminder. “I love my turban. It’s my crown. I want him to experience it.”

Arminder left this decision to Tania. She’s not keen on the long hair, the maintenance or the look, so she’s getting the shears ready. But she’s assured Arminder that ultimately the child will decide.

“When my son is 10 years old, if he decides he wants to grow his hair like Daddy, I’ll help him wrap that turban myself.”

Loving couple #5: Greg & Winston

The LGBTQ community isn’t immune to racial prejudice. As Greg DeRoche explains, it’s a minority group with its own minorities. “When you look at a general population, there are hidden and not-so-hidden racial issues. So you’re picking that up and putting it into another minority community.”

“People hide behind the disguise of preference,” Winston Godwin adds, drawing from his own dating experiences. Greg laughs that his old community in Picton probably got a double whammy when he brought home a man who also happened to be Black.

The two got engaged in June while visiting Winston’s family in Bermuda. That’s when this happy Toronto couple became a modern-day Richard and Mildred Loving.

Same-sex marriage isn’t recognized in Bermuda, which is why Greg and Winston planned to marry here. But an advocacy group there got wind of their engagement through Facebook and reached out to them. They needed a gay couple to file for marriage in Bermuda, à la Halpern v Canada.

Now, Bermuda lawyer, MP and former attorney general Mark Pettingill is using Greg and Winston’s filing to take the fight to that nation’s Supreme Court, hoping for real and immediate change.

“They needed a willing couple, and we had just happened to get engaged,” says Winston. “It’s pretty scary to put your relationship out there in such a public way. We chatted about it and decided, ‘Absolutely – why not be a part of something that’s bigger than ourselves?'”

While the LGBTQ conversation is healthier in Bermuda than in other Caribbean countries like Jamaica and Trinidad, where intercourse between two people of the same sex is illegal, Greg and Winston see their case as an opportunity to speed up progress and acceptance.

“There’s tolerated versus accepted,” says Winston. “Here in Toronto you are accepted, even celebrated. There’s a whole month devoted to the LGBT community here. In Bermuda you’re tolerated. They’re like, ‘All right we’ll deal with you because you’re here and we have no choice.'”

In 2013, Bermuda’s Human Rights Act was amended to outlaw discrimination based on sexual orientation, a motion passed while Pettingill was attorney general. Politicians opposing the bill claimed it would start the “slippery slope” toward marriage equality.

“It’s a very slow progression,” says Winston. “So to even have this court case in the news and have people talking about it is good. If it weren’t there, if it weren’t seen, it’s out of sight, out of mind.”

“If it didn’t happen now, it might happen in five years,” adds Greg. “Maybe that’s another five years of just being tolerated instead of accepted.”

The pair also recognize the advantages of fighting a Supreme Court case remotely from Toronto. They don’t have to deal with backlash from the community, as a local couple would. However, Winston’s father still lives in Bermuda and has been vocally opposed to his son’s coming out. The publicity around the engagement and court case has been hard for him.

Winston recounts a conversation he had with his father on the phone earlier in the day, before meeting me after work at an east-side Starbucks. He hasn’t even had time to tell Greg about it yet.

His father’s “not for it at all,” says Winston. “He doesn’t believe in it. He’s met Greg, and he was fine then. I think the engagement’s being such a public thing is forcing him to make a public opinion on it. He’s there, so he has to live with it more than we do. He’s told me he’s tired of seeing it in the newspapers.

“I’m like, ‘Well, it sucks. But at the end of the day you have the option of seeing it the way I and many others do, but you choose not to. If that’s the stance you’re going to take, then there’s never going to be a point where we’re going to meet in the middle.'”

“I am not going to lose this guy” – he puts his arm around Greg – “and my father’s willing to lose me over it.”

As if that weren’t enough dispiriting news, the couple also found out the Supreme Court had delayed their hearing until December to allow an organization called Preserve Marriage to testify. That group will likely make the predictable argument listed in their brochure.

“Children do better when raised by a married mother and father,” it says. “Confirming what social science has shown for decades.… When a government recognizes marriage, it protects children by encouraging men and women to commit to each other and take responsibility for their children.”

As Loving director Jeff Nichols points out, the same argument was made by the state of Virginia to bar interracial marriage.

“It’s pseudoscience,” says Nichols, recalling the testimony put forward in the Loving case. “‘The kids, they don’t belong, they don’t have a race. This is going to hurt these children.'”

“What proof do you have?” asks Nichols, who made Loving with today’s marriage equality conversation in mind. “Whatever science you’re pulling is not solid.”

Winston hadn’t heard of the Lovings before meeting with me. Greg was vaguely aware of the film. We arranged for them to watch it immediately after our conversation so they could see the astonishing parallels between the two human rights battles. The American civil rights story left them feeling encouraged.

“It absolutely gave us hope,” says Winston. “How could you feel any way other than optimistic seeing more and more countries legalize love? My hope is that as time goes on, those against cases like ours or the Lovings’ will realize that it’s all love and that’s it’s all the same.”

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