My husband’s heritage is Japanese/Portuguese/French. Mine is Mexican/Irish/Scottish. Neither of us fit in anywhere while growing up; both sides of each of our families considered us oddities at best. People never knew what to make of us. I was too white for the Mexican kids and too uptight about racist comments for the white kids. Our son is fair and blond and looks about as All-American (a term that’s always made me queasy) as it gets. He will never struggle the way we did — for which we’re grateful; no parent wants their child to struggle. But the irony isn’t lost on either of us.