I grew up in Oklahoma in an interracial family due to adoption and intermarriage. Black, Cherokee, and White.
Sometimes we were called names, including the N word or "N lover". Often as young kids we had eggs and rotten tomatoes thrown at us. Sometimes we feared for our lives.
Yearly we went to Texas to visit family. Once Grandma, Mommy, two aunts, and 12 kids were walking on a sidewalk in Amarillo. Three men dressed like cowboys walking in the opposite direction blocked us saying, "You N*****s should know to get in the gutter when a Texan walks down the street" They called us other names.
My Mom and her sister were beautiful women then. My aunt said loudly, "Well, Bless your hearts. You don't know no better. Too bad you don't know God loves you and your folks and he love us too. We will pray for you. We all recited "The Lords Prayer". Those tall men went sideways and single file past us and we continued on our way from church to a great aunts house in the "colored" neighborhood.
Years later my Grandma and my then boyfriend stood in front of a large house on Los Feliz Blvd. in Los Angeles with others protesting a real estate sign that said, "For Sale to White Christians Only!"
The usual eggs and garbage were thrown at us along with a few rocks by people in passing cars. Then police came and ordered us to leave, which we did.
Just s few years ago nurses in my state had to have digital fingerprints before we could renew our license. The man who fingerprinted me asked if I wanted to see my FBI file. It was one page, a photo of me, my boyfriend, and my Grandma.
Five years after that protest I read in the paper that the first black family had bought a house, thus integrating that neighborhood. He was a young attorney named Johnny Cochran.
I'l stop because I could fill many pages telling of such experiences.
PS: The worst physical mark from a racist attack was when a group of older kids pushed my bike over on a gravel road causing minor cut, abrasions, and bruised. Not really bad compared to the many who have been killed because of their race.
PPS: I am a proud liberal. In 1960 at age 16 I stuffed envelopes for his presidential campaign: