The Truth About Interracial Intimacy
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/ February 10, 2026
The Truth About Interracial Intimacy
In a new memoir, author Dorothy Roberts explores why interracial attraction can’t be disentangled from the larger forces of race, gender, and power that govern our world.
Dorothy Roberts
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The acclaimed author can’t ignore what she has spent years studying: the undeniable ways unequal structures shape our preferences, even the most intimate ones.
(Shutterstock)
Copyright © 2026 by Dorothy Roberts. From The Mixed Marriage Project, by Dorothy Roberts, published by One Signal/Atria, an imprint of Simon & Schuster, Inc. Printed by permission.
I grew up in Chicago believing the book on interracial marriage my father, a white anthropologist, worked on throughout my childhood sprang from his love for my Black Jamaican mother. But when I finally opened the boxes of papers I had inherited, I discovered he had begun interviewing Black-white couples as a 21-year-old graduate student in the 1930s, long before he met her. In notes from his bachelor-era interviews in the 1950s, he described a wild party for mixed-race couples only. Reading these papers left me uneasy about desire that’s racialized—when race itself becomes the attraction.
I can picture clearly the first time I was unsettled by this type of attraction. The moment plays back like a haunting scene from a movie.
It is the month before my eighth-grade graduation from my integrated school in Kenwood, as the chilly Chicago spring slowly warms into summer. I am barely thirteen years old. During recess or when school lets out, I notice two white girls in my grade leaning casually against the school wall as Black boys bend toward each one, playfully chatting.
The girls pose with an unaccustomed demeanor as they look up at the boys, seeming to hold their attention effortlessly. They are dressed in miniskirts that had become shorter than the year before, knee-high socks, and fitted blouses. I can tell they fancy themselves more mature than our classmates for talking with the boys in this manner. In hindsight, I suspect that the boys were students at the high school, who crossed the park separating our schools for a chance to share this momentary exchange.
That was my first awareness of the dynamic of white girls and Black boys expressing a distinctive attraction toward each other. The sight of those boys and girls interacting was unlike anything I had seen or experienced before. It felt unfamiliar, a sharp contrast to the behavior I was used to from my classmates.
In my little autograph book, with a blue cover and multicolored pages, where my classmates wrote playful farewells as we departed for …
This affects the entire country.
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Current Issue
Society
/ February 10, 2026
The Truth About Interracial Intimacy
In a new memoir, author Dorothy Roberts explores why interracial attraction can’t be disentangled from the larger forces of race, gender, and power that govern our world.
Dorothy Roberts
Share
Copy Link
X (Twitter)
Bluesky Pocket
Ad Policy
The acclaimed author can’t ignore what she has spent years studying: the undeniable ways unequal structures shape our preferences, even the most intimate ones.
(Shutterstock)
Copyright © 2026 by Dorothy Roberts. From The Mixed Marriage Project, by Dorothy Roberts, published by One Signal/Atria, an imprint of Simon & Schuster, Inc. Printed by permission.
I grew up in Chicago believing the book on interracial marriage my father, a white anthropologist, worked on throughout my childhood sprang from his love for my Black Jamaican mother. But when I finally opened the boxes of papers I had inherited, I discovered he had begun interviewing Black-white couples as a 21-year-old graduate student in the 1930s, long before he met her. In notes from his bachelor-era interviews in the 1950s, he described a wild party for mixed-race couples only. Reading these papers left me uneasy about desire that’s racialized—when race itself becomes the attraction.
I can picture clearly the first time I was unsettled by this type of attraction. The moment plays back like a haunting scene from a movie.
It is the month before my eighth-grade graduation from my integrated school in Kenwood, as the chilly Chicago spring slowly warms into summer. I am barely thirteen years old. During recess or when school lets out, I notice two white girls in my grade leaning casually against the school wall as Black boys bend toward each one, playfully chatting.
The girls pose with an unaccustomed demeanor as they look up at the boys, seeming to hold their attention effortlessly. They are dressed in miniskirts that had become shorter than the year before, knee-high socks, and fitted blouses. I can tell they fancy themselves more mature than our classmates for talking with the boys in this manner. In hindsight, I suspect that the boys were students at the high school, who crossed the park separating our schools for a chance to share this momentary exchange.
That was my first awareness of the dynamic of white girls and Black boys expressing a distinctive attraction toward each other. The sight of those boys and girls interacting was unlike anything I had seen or experienced before. It felt unfamiliar, a sharp contrast to the behavior I was used to from my classmates.
In my little autograph book, with a blue cover and multicolored pages, where my classmates wrote playful farewells as we departed for …
The Truth About Interracial Intimacy
This affects the entire country.
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World
Economy
Culture
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The Nation
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Current Issue
Society
/ February 10, 2026
The Truth About Interracial Intimacy
In a new memoir, author Dorothy Roberts explores why interracial attraction can’t be disentangled from the larger forces of race, gender, and power that govern our world.
Dorothy Roberts
Share
Copy Link
Facebook
X (Twitter)
Bluesky Pocket
Email
Ad Policy
The acclaimed author can’t ignore what she has spent years studying: the undeniable ways unequal structures shape our preferences, even the most intimate ones.
(Shutterstock)
Copyright © 2026 by Dorothy Roberts. From The Mixed Marriage Project, by Dorothy Roberts, published by One Signal/Atria, an imprint of Simon & Schuster, Inc. Printed by permission.
I grew up in Chicago believing the book on interracial marriage my father, a white anthropologist, worked on throughout my childhood sprang from his love for my Black Jamaican mother. But when I finally opened the boxes of papers I had inherited, I discovered he had begun interviewing Black-white couples as a 21-year-old graduate student in the 1930s, long before he met her. In notes from his bachelor-era interviews in the 1950s, he described a wild party for mixed-race couples only. Reading these papers left me uneasy about desire that’s racialized—when race itself becomes the attraction.
I can picture clearly the first time I was unsettled by this type of attraction. The moment plays back like a haunting scene from a movie.
It is the month before my eighth-grade graduation from my integrated school in Kenwood, as the chilly Chicago spring slowly warms into summer. I am barely thirteen years old. During recess or when school lets out, I notice two white girls in my grade leaning casually against the school wall as Black boys bend toward each one, playfully chatting.
The girls pose with an unaccustomed demeanor as they look up at the boys, seeming to hold their attention effortlessly. They are dressed in miniskirts that had become shorter than the year before, knee-high socks, and fitted blouses. I can tell they fancy themselves more mature than our classmates for talking with the boys in this manner. In hindsight, I suspect that the boys were students at the high school, who crossed the park separating our schools for a chance to share this momentary exchange.
That was my first awareness of the dynamic of white girls and Black boys expressing a distinctive attraction toward each other. The sight of those boys and girls interacting was unlike anything I had seen or experienced before. It felt unfamiliar, a sharp contrast to the behavior I was used to from my classmates.
In my little autograph book, with a blue cover and multicolored pages, where my classmates wrote playful farewells as we departed for …
