True story:

I was invited to a senior prom (when I was a junior) by a very nice young man (a friend) who also happened to be black. He was the star quarterback of the football team, president of the senior class, oh, and he was valedictorian. And his father was the sheriff. Very respected family in our town.

I asked my (Italian/Sicilian-American) father if I could go with him (thinking such a well-respected and prominent family would be someone he'd want me to associate with) and he pitched a fit.

I was also asked to that same prom by my boyfriend, also a senior, also black. I did not ask my father if I could go with him because by then I knew better. I always kept this boyfriend a secret although my friends and later my siblings knew about him (my sister called me a "n---er-lover" to my face; at this same time, she was dating an ex-con who was white).

He ended up taking my best friend to the prom (who was white but whose parents weren't racists).

I did not go to that prom. I did go to my senior prom the following year with a good friend who was as queer as a three-dollar bill, though. Ah, teenage rebellion.