Love Is Colourless

         I am writing this about the most beautiful woman in the whole world. She's my daughter, Laura Jane Mitchell.

         Laura may only be six weeks old, but already she is the most perfect thing in the world to me. It would be impossible not to look upon that beautiful chocolate brown face, with her deep hazel eyes and not fall hopelessly in love. Words cannot describe how I feel. It is not just motherly pride, she is the very centre of my universe and I the centre of hers. The bond between mother and child is so new, so precious and yet so fragile that I sometimes wonder if my happiness is real.

         Not everyone, however, can understand the fact that I love my daughter. Sadly, in this enlightened day and age, there are those that still see a white woman with a black child as an abomination. Before I met James, Laura's father, I foolishly believed that I lived in a tolerant world. Somehow I felt that most people believed everyone to be the same underneath, no matter what their skin colour was.

         James and I have been married for three years now, and in that time I've learnt a lot about people's so-called modern attitudes. My own father still refuses to accept my husband within his home. My mother will talk to him, but only as long as my father doesn't know. So much for race relations! This is not bigotry in some far off land or newspaper story, but in my very own family.

         On the other hand, James' parents are great, they treat me just like one of the family. As long as James is happy, they're glad for him. For a while I thought that it was okay, that if my parents wouldn't accept my husband because of his skin colour then I wouldn't accept my parents. End of story.

         Laura changed all that. I just can't understand how anyone could not want to see their own grandchild. She's six weeks old, for goodness' sake, what could possibly be wrong or evil about her? I just want to go up to my family, hold her out to them and say, "What can you find offensive about my baby?" I feel a burning rage inside me and it's all I can do to stop myself from shaking my father and mother until they can see just how wonderful she is and how proud of her they should be.

         It's not just my parents. Most people are fine, especially my generation, but every so often someone will look in Laura's pram and recoil slightly, because what they were expecting was a white baby. Their reactions aren't that bad, but you can tell that there's a certain reserve there that wasn't present before. Once again I feel like holding Laura up and telling them that she's a real person and her name is Laura Jane Mitchell.

         So now, for my daughter's sake, I'm going back to confront my parents with their grand-daughter. A small part of me still believes that I can't live in a world where such prejudices still exist. For Laura, I want to give my vanishing dreams of a perfect world one last chance.