I am white. No, brownish pink.

Har Simran Kaur Khalsa, Los Angeles, CA. Since I started wearing mostly white clothes along with my practice of Sikhism, it has become glaringly clear that I am not white — or rather, that my skin is far from white. I am aware that I still experience much white privilege.

Am I American o de alla

Juan Dominguez, Sacramento, CA. Mexican people say I am a shame to our people with gauges in my ears, the clothes I am wearing, the fact I do not have an accent when I speak. It’s like I was raised in America but by Mexicans that eat tortillas with every meal celebrate mothers day the […]

I’m white but I’m also European

Gianna Radoi, USA. People think that being white means you are American. I am second generation, born and raised in America, but my parents are from Europe. Sure, they fled communism in the 80’s, but for a better life. Things did not always come easy for them when they started new lives here, with only […]

I take my race for granted.

Lily Waxler, NA No thanks, I’d rather not say., . I was going on my 8th grade trip for Costa Rica last year and I was with one of my best friends; (I’m going to keep their name anonymous). Wore a hijab for their religion, because of this she got stopped for three “random” security […]

Image portrayed, impression made. It DOES matter.

P. Contreras, Benicia, CA. How you choose to dress gives an impression about you. Whether that impression is accurate or not no one will know unless they get to know you. But, they won’t get to know you if your image repels them. Example. Teenage Boy (black, Hispanic, Asian, white) in your neighborhood in jeans […]

Where will we wash colored clothes?

LaLana Martin Gold Beach, OR When I was 9 years old, our mixed-race family (Asian/Pacific Islander and German/French) was on vacation in the southeast. With six of us there was a lot of laundry. We stopped at a laundry mat and I hopped out of our camper to help Mom with the wash. A sign […]

She changed clothes in our basement.

Barbara Klinman Havertown, PA When I was a young girl my mom was a working mom (nurse) and we had a cleaning lady, Essie Mae, come in every Saturday to clean. I recall she was paid $7.50 ‘and car fare.’ I used to beg Essie Mae to use my bedroom to change into her working […]