I was in second grade and my sister was in fifth. Our school is located in the north side right across from the Mexican War Streets and was predominately black. There was a school dance at the end of the school year, and I heard my sister was going with a boy. A boy. Gross. I had to tattle because of two reasons. 1: what if she got cooties? And 2: I really liked getting my sister in trouble.

The day I found out, I went home and told my dad about my sister’s date to the dance. I had a sick little smile plastered to my face. I knew I was a tattle-tail, but it was fun. At dinner, he asked my sister about the accusation and confirmed the story.

He asked, “What’s his name?”

My sister shot him an angry look and told him. “Jamar.”

            “Is that a black boy?”

            “Yes.”

            “We don’t date black boys in this family, Morgan.”

Eight years later, my sister invited friends over for dinner. My dad bought the supplies for spaghetti and meatballs, one of his best meals. It was one that everyone could help him with. My sister brought over Sam, a very close friend of hers, and Jamar. They weren’t dating or anything, but had grown closer over the years they spent going to school together. Sam was over the house almost every day, but this was the first time Jamar had been over the house. I don’t think my dad even noticed that Jamar was the same boy that eight years earlier he had forbade Morgan to go to the school dance with. Both of these boys were black, but my dad welcomed them into his kitchen and taught them how to make meatballs. Sam, a biracial boy who lived with his grandparents, was on the garlic bread while Jamar and I rolled the meatballs. Morgan took a photo of the four of us working behind our granite kitchen island.

A year after that dinner, and many other dinners similar to that one, I began seeing a boy named Kory. He was a tall, skinny senior, and I was a (slightly less) tall junior. We had a mutual friend who introduced us one day during school, and we started texting after that. For our first date, we went ice skating and got Chipotle. We knew one of the girls working there. She smiled at us and said, “Good job, Skyler.” We both blushed and giggled to each other.

Kory’s hair, right after he got it done, was perfect. It was defined and fitting for him. He had dreads on top and a tight buzz below. He would usually keep his dreads in a little ponytail, giving the look of a “man-bun”. His style was very trendy. He wore a lot of ripped jeans and skater brand clothes. He was very caring; I think because of his younger sisters. They had a lot of years between them, so he babysat them his whole life. They loved him. I remember when I first met them and they wanted to follow us around the whole house while we were trying to get alone for one minute.

I introduced him to my dad over spaghetti and meatballs, possibly a sacred meal in my family. My dad immediately insisted that he wear the Christmas apron, usually reserved for my mother when she was baking. Kory looked hilarious in the snowmen covered apron standing next to my father being taught how to make the perfect meatballs. My dad asked him all of the questions I expected him to. He liked most of the responses, except for a few.         

My dad asked, “Where do you want to go to college?”

            “It would be amazing if I got into University of the Arts,” Kory said, smiling.

            “Oh, for what?”

            “Music,” Kory replied. My face grew red. I knew my dad wasn’t going to like that.

            “Music?”

            “Yeah, music. I play bass, and I make beats online.” My dad shot me a look, smiled, and shook it off.

Overall, the dinner went pretty well. I could tell my dad was trying his best to not say anything too embarrassing or rude to Kory.

 After Kory left, my dad said, “I wasn’t that bad! I think I did pretty well!” And he was right. He didn’t do bad at all. I was so happy to see the progress he had made in the past nine years. He never scolded me for dating a black boy, in fact he was very supportive. He wasn’t ecstatic about me dating, but that had nothing to do with the color of his skin. It’s crazy to me that the same man who told my sister we didn’t date black boys was standing in the kitchen with my new boyfriend. Thanks to my sister and I showing him his prejudices, he was able to let go of them for his daughters. Kory and I didn’t date very long, but my dad was there for me through all of it.