Halfway through my freshmen year in college, one of my hall mates who was white stopped me one day on our floor. She lived a few doors down from me with two other girls in a corner room. We were friendly and would often chat in our rooms or in passing on campus.

She had a steady boyfriend and would sometimes inquire about my or my roommate’s dating life. She asked me about a guy she’d seen me with a few times.

“Do your parents know that you date black guys?” she asked me.

“Yes they do. And they’re okay with it because they’re black, too,” I replied.

Her eyes got big and she simply said, “Oh.”

I could tell she was embarrassed. So I smiled and reassured her by explaining that most people mistake me for white, so her question was not unusual.

I don’t think she asked about my love life again.