Illustration by Caron NcMamara
My wife and I recently rewatched “The Notebook,” a 2004 film about a couple struggling to love each other across class and privilege.
We can relate: While we have not experienced that exact thing, we have had to navigate differences in race, culture and faith to be together.
I am African American and grew up Christian. My wife, Darcy, is white and Jewish. I’m from New York City. She’s from Denver and Tucson. We are unlike each other in so many ways. And yet we were drawn to each other.
It started in fall 2002, a few nights before my best friend married Darcy’s cousin. We were gathered at a steakhouse in lower Manhattan. Darcy walked in, we were introduced, and then she headed to get a drink at the bar. I watched her the whole way. At the bar, she looked back at me over her shoulder and smiled. We call it “the look back,” and we both felt it deeply.
I asked her to dance at the wedding reception, and then later that night we went out. Her cousins implored me to “take care of her,” so I took her to my favorite bar, and we talked all night. I knew then she was the one. We talked about our visions for our lives and the world. And we both sensed that we needed each other to achieve those visions. We fell in love right there, signing up for a destiny we couldn’t yet fully understand, the challenges that would come from blending families, faiths, cultures and beliefs; the frustration of loving long distance; and her delicate journey of becoming part of my kids’ lives so we could eventually become a family.
We stayed until closing, and I walked her back to her hotel. Before leaving, I asked her for her email address. I wrote her as she flew back across the country to Arizona, and she replied almost as soon as she landed.
Over the next few weeks, we emailed back and forth. Then we moved to late-night phone calls, often listening to songs together. She made me mix CDs. I gave her a mixtape, and we introduced each other to all of our friends. Finally, we drove her Isuzu Rodeo cross-country when she moved to Richmond a few months after me.
I wish I could say everything was wonderful once Darcy settled in Richmond. It wasn’t. Our parents struggled at first to accept our relationship, and that created tension. We learned to block most of it out until they came around, and the experience pushed us closer together, making us love one another more fiercely and giving us something to fight for.
From the beginning, a few things defined our relationship more than anything else: going out, raising kids, listening to music and traveling together.
We went out. All. The. Time. It wasn’t great for our waistlines or our wallets, but it was our way of finding space for happiness. You’d have easily found us at any number of Fan bars or downtown clubs — or experiencing Sunday Funday at Bandito’s after social league football.
Since I had two sons, we took our time getting married and having more children. The “step” relationship isn’t easy to begin with, never mind differences in race and faith, but we all got to know each other a little bit more each day. At our wedding, the boys, our parents and our siblings stood with us, we jumped the broom and landed on the glass to shouts of “Mazel tov!” Later, the arrivals of our children Evan and Alexis made the family even stronger and more blended.
Darcy is one of a few people I know who loves listening to music as much as I do. We’ve turned individual preferences into shared favorites: Prince, George Michael, Maroon 5, Tracy Chapman, Coldplay, James Taylor, Jay-Z, Gregory Porter, Erykah Badu, Kings of Leon, Floetry, Lady Antebellum, Matisyahu, Robin Thicke, Maxwell, Lionel Richie, Sarah Brightman, Joss Stone and Carole King.
It’s all those things — spending time with friends, raising our blended family, listening to music and dancing like crazy, and seeing new places together — that helped us combine. We made a new culture, created traditions, affirmed our values, and shaped our faith in one another and in the world.
There are the identities we brought to our relationship. We will always be Jewish. Christian. Black. White. New York City. Tucson. And now, there is the identity we have forged together. We are Jewish and Christian. We are black and white. We want to change the world and are crazy enough to believe we can do it. We are full of faith. Imperfect as hell. And still in love. We are Richmond. We are the Warrens. And that makes us perfect enough.
James Warren has called Richmond home for 14 years. He’s vice president with JMI and founded the company’s storytelling startup, Share More Stories.
