At last year’s reunion my color-filled American family played a non-contact game called human foosball. This year’s gathering, complete with log rolling, swimming, boating, fishing and good food, involves a 100 foot homemade poly-plastic slide that empties into a man-made lake for those of us brave (stupid) enough to try it. Attempting that slide will be three generations of multicultural, American relatives who range in tone from dark, chocolate brown to milky white. This is my America.

As a little girl, I loved attending weddings on that side of my family. My Detroit cousins, the second generation of mixed White and African-American descent, knew how to move. My love of dance started on one of those wedding dance floors, kicking up my heels with one of my Motown cousins. He was very dark (still is), and I was very light (still am). He is my flesh and blood. This is…