The Race Card Project
By Michele Norris
Alli Minch,
Veneta, OR.
When we still lived in California and my biracial twins were very young, a woman stopped me in the store to comment on how cute they were, and asked me where I got them from, since she was interested in adopting. They’re my children, not a designer handbag you can order online. When all four of us are together, no one asks. When my husband goes out with our boys, no one asks. It’s just when I go out with them that the questions come.
Carol DuPuis,
Hemlock, MI
It is too dangerous to be a young male of color today in America.
Melissa Flowers,
Trinity University
My mother is caucasian and my father is black. I have immense privilege in my life, and I feel that being a biracial woman gives me a sense of pride which leads to strength and confidence. But this comes at a cost. I am often referred to as “acting white” by colleagues, friends, and even family members. I also feel as though I am looked to to defend or represent the “black perspective” on a number of things professionally. This causes confusion. This causes pain.
Contemplating all of these emotions in the context of being a wife to a black man and a mother to two interracial children has made my identify exploration evermore challenging and complex. Being biracial is a lifelong learning experience – one I embrace proudly.
Gentry Hopkins,
Nashville, TN
Being biracial presently gives an interesting viewpoint on many social aspects. I often get the questions “are you more white or more black?” or “I’d say you act more white”, but what if I were just wanting to be biracial.
The University of Tennessee, Knoxville Sociology 110.
Lili King,
Alamo, CA
With biracial grandchildren, I am afraid for them and in them have hope.
Eryne Tinajero,
Honolulu, HI.
I am biracial. I wasn’t raised with much knowledge of either culture. It’s always tough to visit the two different sides of my family. I feel as if they don’t see me as one of them. I feel like an outsider because I don’t know the cultures. I don’t know the languages. I don’t know the traditions. I don’t know who I’m supposed to be. Sometimes I feel as if I’m missing a big part of my identity.
Sophia,
Chattanooga, TN
Growing up biracial, I never knew where I fit in outside of my home. Two cultures, two religions, two completely different lifestyles. I did not want to be Arab most of the time. I wanted to fit in with the majority of my school, who were white Christian Americans. It was an everyday battle; concealing one side of myself, and picking the other.
Leslie Gallager,
Brooklyn, NY.
#biracial #codeswitching
Jennifer Ward,
Denver, CO.
As discussions have proliferated in Denver and online about race, the Black Lives Matter movement, and how change should be implemented, one idea that has been reiterated is that white people’s place is to support, while black people’s place is to lead and direct. I understand that, but where does that leave me – the white-looking daughter of a white mother and black father, who has never directly faced discrimination based on skin color but has certainly felt the repercussions in her family life and beyond?
Rockaway Beach, NY.
Syracuse University ’16
I am biracial and my experiences with race are constantly informed by internal tug of war about what side I belong to. I’ve finally accepted my place in the grey and the view is sometimes trying but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
Renee Bracey Sherman.
Oakland, CA.
“Can I touch your hair?” they ask, hand already extended, a mere inch from my thick brown curls. I feel invaded. Living as a biracial woman isn’t the easiest thing in the world. People come up to me with an inquisitively tilted head and say “What are you?” If I simply say “human” or “American” they reply, “No, you know what I mean.”
What they mean is what is my ethnic make up. Why does my tan skin look the way it does. Who are my parents and where are they from. Why does my hair look like that – how is it different from theirs. They’d like to categorize me – which is a natural thing for people to do, except these are people I don’t know. They’re strangers in a coffee shop who stare at me on and off for thirty minutes then come ask for the answer to the question they’ve been pondering. No one ever asks what my name is or how I’m doing that day. It makes me feel like an outsider in my own community. As if my skin color doesn’t belong.
People of all races and ethnicities ask me some of these deeply personal questions. And get frustrated with me whenever I don’t give them the answer they were looking for. I usually don’t mind sharing my family’s story, but I just wish people would ask my name first.
Sean B.,
Riverside, CA.
I am half white and half Filipino. Growing up in a melting pot such as Southern California has been awesome. I never truly understood how lucky I was to live here until I traveled to the south (multiple states) to visit family. My wife is Filipina (born in the south). While I seemed to get along OKAY in the south (most people thought I was Mexican or Southern European of sorts because of my dark hair), people would stare at my wife as if she were some sort of unknown entity. People weren’t necessarily rude, but they would just stare as if they had never seen an Asian person in real life before. A white waitress even bowed her head to my wife after serving her a drink (which was HILARIOUS btw). I guess that I can see how people get comfortable in small towns, and that’s all they know, which leads to them never wanting to leave their small town. This especially makes sense for individuals who are part of the majority, and never traveled to coastal areas where whites are sometimes the minority.
I never really thought of myself as a minority until I traveled to the south. To all of the biracial individuals in the south: You can have a better quality of life in most coastal and liberal states. I think that Florida and some parts of Texas seem okay for minorities as well.
Here in the melting pot of California, I am the unknown. I’m used to it, and if anything, I’ve learned to use it to my advantage. I view myself as somewhat of a social chameleon. Latinos/Asians assume I’m white, but once they find out I’m half Asian it’s like we all of the sudden have this shared ‘you’re a minority so you get it’ bond. Which is fine by me. Whites are usually unsure of what I am because while I have an Irish first name and French last name, my hair is a little on the dark side. They assume I must be some kind of European. Perhaps Spanish? Maybe even part Mexican since this is Southern California. I grew up in a diverse neighborhood and had a lot of Mexican, White, Filipino and Black friends, so I honestly feel that I can relate to most people. I’ve had a black person tell me, “I don’t really view you as a white person-you’re just Sean.” I have a diverse group of friends and family, and we all bring our different cultures to the table, and we all have a great time. We bust each other’s chops a lot, but it’s all in good humor.
I have a good career, and I make pretty good money. Sadly, I’m not sure that I would have been given the opportunities that I’ve been given had I been viewed as a minority, which would certainly have been the case had I went to school and started my career in the south. I never really thought too deeply about racism until I traveled to the south. Racism is just not as prevalent here. I guess that this is somewhat cathartic for me. Soon, I will be applying to schools for a very competitive field that requires a professional/doctorate degree. A lot of programs are in the south. While I am admittedly somewhat hesitant to apply, I feel that it might be a good life experience. Surprisingly enough, my wife loves the south and wouldn’t mind moving–Go figure?
Sabrina Fairchild,
Canada.
I’m a little disconcerted by how negative this sentence sounds, but it seems to accurately reflect how I’ve been characterized all my life. I’m trying to find new ways to describe myself (as biracial, as Eurasian) that provides a single, coherent identity.
Growing up in a biracial family, the concept of race has always been confusing to me. As I grew older and began to learn more about my own identity I decided to stop identifying as biracial and began to only call myself black. When people ask me what I am and I tell them that I’m black, they sometimes respond with, “Really? You don’t sound black. You talk like a white person.” It infuriates me that people often forget that there can be diversity of speech, language, and culture within one specific race.
Cassandra Young,
Norfolk, VA.
Often times when filling out a survey or application we are asked to select our race. Many of the times the directions state to only choose one. I am biracial and one race does not define me.
Finn Hurtado,
Eugene, OR.
I am biracial, half Mexican and half white. I don’t have a racial group I identify with or feel proud to be a part of. However I do feel a sense of community with the local car scene. I own my dream car, it is my prize possession. Thus these six words seemed simple to me: “My race card is my racecar.”
Nichole Pettit,
Lake Como, NJ.
Monmouth University
I’m biracial. I’m not just African American, I’m also American, German, English and Irish! Many say “You’re black,” sure but I’m not just that. Do not reduce my race and ethnic background to a single word. I do not belong to a single group, I belong to many. I am a young woman, furthering her education and work to better her life for herself, her family, and the future of the world. If you must categorize me, must describe me in a single word… Human. Human is the single most descriptive and accurate word.
Michele Malmstrom,
Charlottesville, VA.
My daughter has always had very low self-esteem. I tried her entire life to address the problem by complimenting her and giving her the tools for building her confidence: cello lesson, in which she excelled, girl scouts where she achieved the silver award, college educated with a B.A. and at 24 she is considering entering a Master’s program, etc. Since reaching adulthood she has opened up a lot about her feelings stating: Both groups – her white side (me) and her black side (her father) have repeatedly told her 1st “You are not really black” (both in color and action) and secondly “If you have even a little black you are considered black.” She says that she doesn’t feel like she belongs anywhere! Not only that but the statements are in complete opposition to each other… When a black person says “You are not really black” they mean “You are not accepted” but when a white person says it, it is meant as an off-handed compliment which of course puts her down instead of builds her up. Conversely, when a black person says “If you are even a little bit black than you are black” comes off just as off-handed as the above “compliment”, you belong to us weather you want to pretend you are white or not.” And obviously, when a white person says it they are saying “you are NOT white”. If I knew then what I know now I would have pushed her on her father’s side instead of leaving it up to him to see her. I have failed my biracial daughter!
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