It was September 1995 and I had just moved to Barnesville, Georgia, for college. My new roommate and I were sitting inside the local McDonald’s eating ice cream cones and getting to know one another when a tall, striking teenaged boy crossed the parking lot and stepped onto the restaurant’s sidewalk. Walking with a friend, the boy was dribbling a basketball. He caught it with one hand before spinning it on his pointer finger. We made eye contact through the window, the ball still spinning, and I remember my heart mimicking the movement as I nudged my head in the direction of the opening door.
My roommate twisted in her seat to get a better look. As the two boys approached the front counter, the tall, handsome one glanced into the dining room, meeting my eyes again. He tucked his basketball between his forearm and waist, finally looking away when the cashier greeted them.
“Oooh, they’re cute,” my roommate said, turning back toward me and leaning over the table.
After a few minutes of pretending we were most certainly not watching the boys’ every movement, my eyes stretched wide over my cone. “They’re coming this way,” I breathed, mustering my best ventriloquist skills and focusing on my cone.
The boys stopped at our table, the tall one squatting low so his eyes were at my level. His friend chatted with my roommate, the four of us volleying jokes and witty banter back and forth until the two finally rose to leave. I was disappointed when the tall one didn’t ask for my phone number, but even more upset at how afraid I had been at the notion. Had he asked, I would’ve been too scared to give it to him. Why? Because he was Black, and in 1995 Georgia interracial relationships were still taboo—especially in white, blue-collar families like mine.
For many in my situation back then, that day at the McDonald’s would’ve been the end of a short story. But I was too rebellious to let it end there, and so the very next time I saw the boy and he asked for my phone number, I offered it while the question still hung on his breath. I didn’t care that my father would surely lose his mind and my mother would finally move forward with her seething threats to disown me were I to entertain dating anyone non-white. I had to be brave. I had to take a chance. My heart wasn’t letting that second meeting be The End. It was 1995 and progressive Americans on the right side of history had sacrificed so much decades prior for my right to exchange numbers with a beautiful Black boy.
Fast-forward to January 8, 1996, and Shederal and I started dating. He’d turned 17 that previous November and I’d turned 19 in December. We were two brave kids too brave to let ignorance keep us apart. In 2000, we married and welcomed our first son, Jalan. Devan came along in 2002 and I would love to tell you that the road was easy, and our families championed our relationship with open arms, but those would be lies. Our journey was long and difficult, and it took a few years before my family finally warmed to Shederal. I’ll save the story about the day my Daddy and Shederal met for another time—it’s one of my favorite stories, not only because the meeting was shocking in the best way but because a 17-year-old Black boy inspired my angry, mean, redneck father to unlearn decades of hate, turning his life around and becoming one of the happiest, kindest people I’ve known.
Loving v. Virginia, a Landmark Case
Shederal Hughes and I were able to marry one another because of Mildred and Richard Loving. On June 12, 1967, the Lovings won their argument against the prohibition of interracial marriage in the United States. In their case, Loving v. Virginia (1967), the Lovings’ attorneys argued that laws against interracial marriage stemmed from antiquated slavery laws based on white supremacist ideals and instituted to keep Black people oppressed. Because of this landmark court case, which you can read about here, the folks who did not support Shederal’s and my union had to swallow their ignorance and stew by themselves. They could kick and yell, but in the end, love won. Love always wins.
Interracial Representation in the Mystic Storyteller Book and Deck
When Stacey Williams-Ng first approached me about publishing my book and companion tarot deck, Mystic Storyteller, she and I both agreed that diversity was our top requirement for our illustrations. After all, she and her husband are also in an interracial marriage—Ken is Chinese and Stacey is white—and like Shederal and me, the pair have two beautiful children, Sophie and Tyler.
When you flip through the Mystic Storyteller book and shuffle the companion tarot deck, you will find inclusive representation of race, gender, generations, body type, ethnicity, and so much more. Together with our illustrator, Roz Kazaz, an Egyptian illustrator living in Canada, we have crafted a collection of art in which every person can find representation.
Would you like to join the Mystic Storyteller Street Team?
Want to get your hands on our gorgeous book and deck? Stay connected, keep opening these emails, and be on the lookout for the project’s next move: our BackerKit launch page, which you can learn more about here. And save the date!
Save the Date
The Mystic Storyteller book and tarot deck is being launched on BackerKit Tuesday, August 6. That means YOU will have the opportunity to support bringing this book and deck to life! If you are reading this via an email from me or through Substack, you’re on the fastest track to staying updated on all details. THANK YOU for your interest, your kind words, and your support! If you are not already following the project on Instagram, please do.
In her more than thirty years as a storyteller and visual designer, Amanda “Mandy” Hughes has written and designed over a dozen works of literary, Southern Gothic, and women’s fiction under pen names A. Lee Hughes and Mandy Lee.
Mandy is the founder of Haint Blue Creative®, a space for readers and storytellers to explore, learn, and create. She holds a Bachelor and Master of Science in Psychology, and she has worked as an instructional designer for nearly twenty years.
When she’s not writing, Mandy enjoys the movies, theater, music, traveling, nature walks, birdwatching, and binging The Office. She is a tarot enthusiast who uses the cards to enhance creativity and foster wellness. Her book Mystic Storyteller: A Writer’s Guide to Using the Tarot for Creative Inspiration and companion tarot deck are coming to La Panthère Studio in 2024.
Mandy lives in Georgia with her husband and four sons, two of whom are furrier than the others (but not by much). Visit her website at haintbluecreative.com and follow her on Instagram @HaintBlueCreative and @MysticStorytellerTarot.
Adorable story of your first meeting, I enjoyed it and how you were eating ice cream with your new roommate. 🍦🍦