All four of my grandparents immigrated from Italy, so I’m pure Italian, but also white. My father was a jazz musician who often played with musicians who happened to be black, so I grew up in a tolerant home when it wasn’t popular. Growing up in America it seemed like blacks expected and received deferential treatment because their ancestors were enslaved by “my” ancestors. As a teenager I once walked through a cemetery with a friend, when we were spotted by a group of young black men. They chased us, throwing rocks- why? because we were white? Racism goes both ways. Now I have custody of my grandson, who is mixed. He is the most beautiful thing in my life.