Boulder Magazine Winter/Spring 2007-08
feature article

Mixed Up in Boulder

Finding acceptance is still a mixed bag for multi-ethnic couples

Story and photos by Tanya Ishikawa

Craig Foster gets a kick out of South Park and the cartoon character named Token Black. The Lafayette father of 2-year-old twin daughters often jokes with his Caucasian wife, Robyn, that “no matter where we go or what party we’re at, that’s me [the token black]—always a spot in the crowd.”

Craig and Robyn Foster with their children, Lili and Hope.

For Craig, Robyn and other multi-ethnic couples, love is colorblind. The darkness or lightness of their skin did not determine their feelings when they began dating or when they decided to marry. But it does affect their experience of being a couple in Boulder, where the chamber of commerce reports that 88 percent of the population is white, and mixed relationships of white, African American, American Indian, and Mexican individuals are rare.

Living and working in Boulder can be difficult if you don’t happen to be of European descent, and the frustrations are multiplied when you love someone who doesn’t look like you. While the nonwhite spouses generally enjoy their Boulder County lifestyles, they continue to find themselves in isolating circumstances. Most see a need for better cultural understanding and crosscultural outreach from the community. Through their diverse lives and encounters, the Fosters and three other couples offer their perspectives on intercultural understanding—or the lack of it—in Boulder.

Teens to Twins

Craig Foster, 39, was born in Panama to Panamanian parents. His family moved to the United States during the Vietnam War when his father joined the American military. After living in several states and West Germany, they moved to Colorado Springs, where Craig went to school and worked until 1995.

“Colorado Springs has a lot of ethnicities,” he says. “There are a lot of different types of people because it’s a military town. By the same token, it’s very narrow-minded. People are rigid in their thought processes, my family included.” Something as simple as an unusual haircut like a Mohawk is unacceptable there, he says, adding it’s all about appearances and status.

Robyn, 36, was born in Salida, lived in New Zealand and moved to Colorado Springs in junior high school. She met Craig when she was 13 and he was 16. They started dating a few years later, became engaged in her senior year of high school, and waited to marry until Robyn was 21. The Fosters have moved around Colorado for school and careers. They now live in Lafayette, where Robyn is a physician’s assistant. Craig commutes to his job as a systems administrator for a Boulder company.

The couple has dealt with varied reactions from their parents, who have at times been very accepting, “hot and cold,” “not so open,” and worried about what other relatives might think. In Boulder, the Fosters haven’t experienced many ethnicity-related incidents, though Craig says, “Boulder isn’t as diverse as they think they are, not diverse at all.” They consider the whole state, even metropolitan Denver, pretty homogeneous.

Robyn says the majority of their awkward or negative encounters have happened in small towns and with elderly couples. In Boulder County, Craig has received more negative reactions from blacks, primarily younger males, than from whites. While he would expect blacks in such a white town to be more welcoming to each other, he has found the opposite. In his experience, mature, educated people react more positively. “Boulder is a cool place and no matter what anybody does, this is where I want to be,” Craig says. He and Robyn like living in quiet, affordable and welcoming Lafayette.

“For me, I’ve just accepted the fact that we’re one of a few interracial relationships. It doesn’t define us as a couple,” Robyn says. “It may be different when our daughters get to school. It’s one thing for us to deal with it and another for them.”

The Burden on Brown Kids

Craig’s sister Katrina, 26, is more concerned about raising biracial children in Boulder with her husband, Les Miller, 36, a print production manager, studio composer and musician. Katrina, who will soon graduate from the University of Colorado, has many friends who have no issue with her skin color or her interracial marriage. But she has experienced ignorance and a lack of sensitivity from whites in Boulder and at CU.

Katrina and Les Miller.

“If we have kids—and we want to—I’d never want to raise them here. I’d like to move somewhere more diverse,” she says. Les agrees: “If you are the only brown kid in your class, and an issue comes up, they look at you to represent everyone of that race on the planet. It’s too much pressure for anyone, let alone a young kid in school.”

Les grew up amid people who looked like him in the mostly white, small town of Eldridge, Iowa, and later moved to Iowa City to attend the University of Iowa. He says Iowa City and the campus are pretty diverse compared to Boulder. “There’s sort of a perpetual issue here in Boulder—with racist idiots, vandalism, verbal assaults—that helps keep Boulder a white place. I don’t know how many minority students get death threats,” he says, referring to a 2005 incident in which a friend of his, an Ethiopian-American student government leader at CU, received a racially charged hate e-mail and death threat.

Katrina says, “I didn’t know much about Boulder before coming here. Oh, what a culture shock. It took me four days before I saw another black person.” She and Les have not experienced outright discrimination, though some people may have reacted with romantic jealousy. Once a white woman in a bar was flirting with Les and became very condescending when she found out that Katrina was his date. Some black men have also insulted them, saying things like “Oh, what a waste.” Still, the couple really likes Boulder, especially all the music clubs and concert venues.

Alone in a Crowd

Debbie and Bill Thomas also enjoy the local music scene. They first met at Herman’s Hideaway in Denver, and then again on New Year’s Eve 1988 at The Ironworks, which used to be by McNichols Arena. Bill, 52, a music producer and recording engineer, is white and originally from Los Angeles. Debbie, 46, works as a financial comptroller for the Native American Rights Fund in Boulder.

While Debbie spent a lot of weekends and vacations on the Navajo reservation as a child, she grew up as the only Navajo girl in her grade in Durango and is used to being in a mostly white setting. The couple’s cultural differences are most noticeable around family. Debbie’s family is quiet and reserved, typical of the Navajo, while Bill and his family are quick to hug and share personal stories. Bill had to learn to live in a matrilineal society, as is Navajo custom, but has adapted well because he is fascinated with the culture and loves the cooking.

“We’ve never had any problems in Boulder,” Debbie says. “We’ve never run into any type of discrimination or difficulties, like we have in small towns or other states.” They have been to restaurants near American Indian reservations where no one would serve them, Debbie says.

Although she often finds herself the only nonwhite in the room, she says she never really notices people staring or looking at her differently in Boulder. But the couple has noticed a decline in diversity in the city. “I can say 15 years ago the minority population in Boulder was larger,” Debbie says. “You get to meet less new people [of color] in the community.” The couple feels comfortable in what Bill describes as a good neighborhood with many nice people. They agree that the bigoted attacks suffered by other minorities in Boulder is often “fueled by ignorance and alcohol.”

“This is such an educated town. You would think they’d be interested in other cultures,” Debbie says, but most people don’t support the diversity Boulder does have. When the Native American Rights Fund has fundraisers, “only Indians show up,” she says. “You’d think after being in a community 35 years, people would be aware.”

“If people would just take the time to know each other, it can be a peaceful world,” Bill says. “I just wish people would spend more time with people they think they’re afraid of.”

Top: Debbie and Bill Thomas; bottom: Jenna and Alex Saldaña.

Language Barriers

Jenna Saldaña grew up in the small town of Belleville, Mich., surrounded by other whites. She met her husband while she was traveling through Querétaro, Mexico. When Alex Saldaña saw the Spanish-speaking blond American in the Chinese restaurant where he worked part-time to pay for college, he was smitten. He had a poem delivered to her table, and they dated until she went back to the States. They e-mailed for next several months, but lost touch. A few years later, they reconnected via e-mail, and Jenna returned to Mexico to visit Alex. They were married at Alex’s parents’ home near Tamaulipas on Dec. 30, 2006.

Jenna had a job lined up in Boulder, so Alex quit his job, got a travel visa and moved to be with his new wife. Since then, except for unique occasions like a recent wedding in Fort Lupton mainly attended by Hispanic Americans, Alex has been the one surrounded by a different culture. “I really like Boulder,” says Alex, who is 26. “Here is not a stressful life.” He and Jenna, 32, enjoy the beauty, safety, friendliness and opportunities in Boulder.

She is the development director for a nonprofit organization that provides language education and cultural exchange for immigrants. “What we try to do is have a more integrated community,” she says. “A lot of people don’t know what to say to each other. We help them become friends. It reduces the fear of the unknown.” Alex works in a factory, teaches Spanish at an elementary school and plans to volunteer soon with senior citizens.

His biggest frustration about living in Boulder is trying to learn and use English. “When I want to buy something and I’m alone, it’s complicated, but I try. If I have fear, it’s not good,” he says. The first time he bought tortillas and frijoles (Spanish for beans), he couldn’t understand why they tasted so bad. “He had bought baked beans and garlic/herb, carb-free tortillas,” Jenna explains.

Alex says that when he and Jenna are together in the market or waiting at a stoplight to cross the street, he notices people looking at them. Still, “when I’m with her, people are nicer to me,” he says. He sees many Hispanic people in Boulder, but usually can’t tell if they are from Mexico or a country in South America. Sometimes, he says, “I feel weird when walking down the street because maybe some people think I’m illegal.”

Twice at the same bar, the staff would not accept Alex’s government-issued green card, saying he needed an official United States ID. “It’s kind of embarrassing and frustrating,” Jenna says. But, Alex adds, “A lot of people here are open-minded. It is good to learn more about other cultures to understand the people. The U.S. and Mexico are close, not too far, but there are a lot of different customs. I feel good. I love my country. I love my culture. Right now, I love Boulder. This is my new home.”

Though these four couples have come to love Boulder in their own ways, they find the county’s limited spectrum of ethnicity all too noticeable and sometimes quite vexing. Many Boulderites like to think they have created an atmosphere that welcomes diversity. But African Americans, Native Americans and immigrants from countries to the south often find themselves in awkward, uncomfortable and even dangerous situations amidst a white crowd.

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