Calling a spade a spade... by Sheryl O inspired this response.
The Sixties and the Seventies
When I was 5 and asked why some people were dark-skinned, I was told they were burnt in God's oven.
When I made a black friend in third grade, my family thought I'd outgrow it once I realized she was a nigger.
When I met a black girl in high school, my family thought it was a phase. "You can be friends, but don't bring her brother home and say he's your boyfriend!" I pointed out her brother was 7, and it's unlikely we'd ever date. I never mentioned her very flirtatious cousin who was so handsome.
When I went off to a trade school and met my future ex-husband who was bi-racial (white mother/black father), they wrung their hands and gnashed their teeth and wondered where they went wrong.
"Well, at least he's not Jewish, that would be very wrong," my Southern Baptist Mother said.
"I suppose this is my fault," my grandmother said. "After all, when I married your Italian grandfather, that was an interracial marriage too." Huh?
When I was pregnant with my son I heard, "We'll see how dark the kid is before we accept it."
When we found my then-husband's mother from whom he'd be estranged since he was very young, she was Jewish!
When my marriage broke up, I was told, "You're still young and the kids don't really look black."
When I started dating Wil, they asked, "Is he all black or just half?"
A few years later, I stopped speaking to most of them. I have no idea how they feel about President Obama, but I can make an educated guess from all they taught me.