A “white girl” with a unique heritage
Ashlyn Rachelle Sharp,
Azle, TX.
I hate the term “typical white girl”. Why does a girl whose taste buds enjoy pumpkin spice lattes have to be categorized automatically in some stupid stereotype? I may be “white”, but my heritage is so much more than just a typical white girl. My veins are flowing with the blood of my family going back centuries; Irish, German, Native American(Cherokee), Spanish, black dutch, and english…When did a wonderful heritage such as this become such a rude stereotype of #basicwhitegirl? I have been rooted in my multi-faceted heritage since I was born, and I’m not basic, I’m me.
Hapa: but always the wrong half.
Chattanooga, TN.
I’m half Japanese and half white. In Hawaii, where I grew up, mixed race people like me are called “hapa” or “half.” Although I feel most at home in the primarily Asian culture of Hawaii, I also felt like I stuck out physically because I was tall and had fair, freckled skin. But, when I moved to the mainland for college, I didn’t fit in there, either. People ask, “What are you?” “Do you have foreign blood?” But sometimes they also say, “I never thought of you as anything but white,” and that hurts just as much.
In my blood, not my face
Lauren
Via “Visualizing Change at “PROOF” – The National Geographic Blog about Photography and Culture
To me it’s not about race, it’s about culture. I am 1/4 Japanese, and don’t look the least bit Asian (though my brother does). I grew up in America, but with my mom growing up in Japan, she passed down the culture. I was raised practicing Japanese traditions, eating the foods, watching the movies, learning the language. I feel more Japanese than American in some ways. I used to wish I looked at least a tiny bit Asian so I could have some visual hint of the race I so identified with. I’m also a mixture of other backgrounds including Irish, German and English. My 6 words about race? “In my blood, not my face.” It’s about how we identify ourselves inside, not how we look that identifies us.
“My Blood is Red, What’s Yours”
Ralanda King,
Philadelphia, PA.
Born and raised in the city of brotherly love, but I’m full of sisterly affection, I not black but brown and beautiful. the heart can see what our eyes can’t or refuse too. but, don’t charge it to my skin, but to my heart.
100% White, 50% Hispanic.
J.P,
Tampa, FL
Growing up in a largely latin community of Florida, I’ve always struggled to fit in. My mother is of Spanish heritage with family coming from Spain as well as Cuba, however, my father is from eastern Europe, thus I have a non-spanish last name. This has troubled me forever because everyone looks at your last name to try to determine what you are. Someone could have a father who’s 1/2 hispanic, and a mother who’s 0% hispanic but just because they inherit their dad’s last name, they are more accepted into the “community” than someone like me even though they are less hispanic by blood. It’s gotten to the point where I don’t feel like explaining my identity to others, so I just tell people that I’m completely of my dads culture, sweeping my mothers under the rug because people are likely to laugh considering someone with my last name would be hispanic at all.
Trapped Brown Girl with Red Blood
Michele George,
Author,
Columbus, OH.
The struggle of being born in a brown body is heavy. Society treats ‘us’ as though we choose to have brown skin, choose to be persecuted, choose to be who we are created to be. The irony is my red is blood. The blood of those that kill me and bully me for being me is read. But they only see my skin-as if my red blood means nothing. In America it doesn’t. The inhumanity of being brown in America causes constant stress and anxiety to myself and my family. You see, I’m a brown girl with red blood who has birthed 2 brown boys. I’ll stop there, because that burden makes living exhausting / yet worth it because I love my beautiful brown babies. I hope others respect their red blood
Blood does not Determine Our Family
CALEY CITRO,
Stephens City, VA
Where we live or who we meet defines us. We grow up around people who are known as friends but are as close as family.
Our Blood is red we are one
Poloko,
South Africa.
We need to come together and fight crime not one another. This is no longer our world, we will die and leave the young lost and with hatred let us Love
“My Blood is Red, What’s Yours”
Ralanda King,
Philadelphia, PA.
Born and raised in the city of brotherly love, but I’m full of sisterly affection, I not black but brown and beautiful. the heart can see what our eyes can’t or refuse too. but, don’t charge it to my skin, but to my heart.
Every Hispanic Isn’t Always Hispanic Okay?
Mathew Rayne,
Houston, TX.
Once in awhile you go for a drive and see the people around you enjoying what there doing. Everyone is their own person! Sometimes your expected to do something that… you just rather not do? It’s my family line? In my blood? Just because I’m Hispanic doesn’t mean i wanted to do something you want in my future!
I like Mexican food, but not weekly
I like my truck, i don’t want it dropped.
I use to hot summer, don’t have me hay bailing it all
I use a computer, more than my cell
I speak English, little Spanish
….. I am me, but i’m not you
