Black-white man; white black man

Oakland, CA.

I have so many tales to share about my experience with my color (or lack of “definitive color recognition”). growing up in Chicago, I was called “a white n*****” by friends at times w/ affection and at times derisively. Initially the appellation hurt my feelings until I took an objective look at myself in the mirror. Years later and moving to San Francisco and working at city hall, a female constituent asking for me but not remembering my name, described me as “he is either a “black white-man” or a “white black-man”. Hearing that relayed, those phases resonated with me in their succinctness. These are the ways that people view/see me. it’s been a blessing and a curse as either can create discomfit for the viewer and then extent to me. Black folk ask me “what ‘is” you” seeking racial confirmation. I tell them “you know what I is” you just want me to verify/affirm it


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