White wife sixties Chicago eyes opened
Gail Howard,
Redding, CT
My memoir, White Wife/Blue Baby, examines how I at least partially unlearned racism marrying across the 1968 Chicago color line and caring for our gorgeous, vivid, fragile baby girl.
Blending two worlds into one soul.
Jai’Myz,
New Haven, CT
p>This is about how I am mixed with the two ethnicity that have been fighting for century
So sorry… [“] obviously [“] a blonde moment.
Kathleen Walsh,
New Haven, CT
THE privilege that reaches far beyond any inherent to having been born lily-white in a “supremely” white society is the depth and brutality of the felt pain as I witness it.
From my days as the little girl in this 1960’s pic I have remained drawn to this pain. Again and again. I have come to learn… this draw takes me to, and this pain grounds me in, the Golden Rule:
WE are.I AM You.
Child of Pennsylvainia coal miners
James Tupko,
New Milford, CT
My grandfather came to Pennsylvania in 1907 to work in the coal mines. It had to be tough to be a Lithuanian in America.
Your father is not good enough.
Arlene Arias,
Waterbury, CT.
As an adult, I am an educator and social worker who fights for equality and promotes the value of diversity.
A very proud biracial Black woman!
Britt Lewis,
New Haven, CT
Everything has to do with race.
Michigan, 1970: Where are your horns?
BJ Diamond,
West Hartford, CT.
Just married, moved from East Coast to Midwest, found a job as an urban planner for the county. First woman in a professional position at the agency. The other women were administrative staff. I was always asked to fill in for them if they were short-handed (e.g., please get the coffee, please type this report/letter, etc.). My Star of David necklace caused a lot of whispering behind my back. Finally, when I asked what was going on, I was told they had never met a Jewish person before, and where were my horns.
You’re not Spanish, you wouldn’t understand.
Sean Patrick Nicholl,
Storrs, CT.
Heard it plenty of times… I mention that my first name is after my grandfathers; John… y Juan. That stops them for a second. John, Juan, and Sean are all the same name in various languages. A great grandfather of mine adds Jean to the list. They think I’m joking. And I say, “Mi abeulo se llama Juan Bautista Galan-Cruz III, y es de Madrid. Mi madre vivia en Puerto Rico como una nina.” The last names in my Spanish heritage include Cruz, Galan, Velasquez, Formoso, Marcano… we all look white. Even my mother’s cousin who can barely speak English has blonde hair and blue eyes. Don’t tell me I’m not Spanish.
Northern Irish, Irish, Canadian, French, Bohemian Czech, Castilian Spanish, Puerto Rican … lastly American.
Who will love this black girl?
Gabby Mbeki,
Boston, MA.
In the fall of 1997, I started 6th grade at a day independent school in Connecticut. I grew up in a predominately West Indian neighborhood surrounded by faces like mine, but my father wanted me to have a more rigorous education. I entered the school being one of three students of color in my class and it was a shock for me. It was not as though I never been around white people, but I never been surrounded as much as I had been when I started at this school. I spent seven years at the school. I grew up and became a woman at this school. I also fell in “love” at this school. Because there were no men that looked like me I found love in the white male and since then I have always been attracted to white males. I have been ridiculed for such preference and felt guilt that I am attracted to such and at times feel as though I am offending my black race. However, I also feel as though white men do not take me as seriously either. They date me because they are curious. They want to know if dating a black girl feels different. If making love to her feels the same…and at the end of the day. I always feel prodded and used. I have grown not to trust love and wonder how much of race has to do with it. I sometimes feel trapped and feel as though I will forever to be alone.
Your culture is your superpower
Shayla Pensiero,
Stamford, CT
Being able to celebrate where you came from and spread what is passionate to you to others is empowering because it is a way to bring everybody together.
What do you mean “White Latino?”
Andrea Fabiola Vazquez,
Ridgefield, CT.
I grew up in Ohio, but both of my parents are from Mexico. I speak Spanish, most of my extended family lives in Mexico, and I identify very much as a Mexican American. Still, when people ask me where my family is from—and people as me this a lot—they are always surprised to learn that I’m Mexican, and often comment that I don’t look Mexican. Really? I think I look very Mexican, and when I go to Mexico I see a lot of people that look like me. Then I realized that people are surprised because I’m White. Now, when people say “But, you don’t look Mexican,” I’m very up front and say it’s probably because I’m White, and then I remind them that Mexico was colonized by White Europeans, just like the United States. Perhaps if schools in America actually taught the history of the Americas—before and after Columbus—there would be a lot less confusion about why there are so many White people in Latin America!
I think there is also a lot of confusion in how to use terms like “Latino” or “Hispanic.” For me, these terms do not denote race, just as the term “American” does not denote race. Rather, Latino refers to a shared ethnicity: similarities in language, religion, food, values, etc. that unite societies of the Western Hemisphere once colonized by the Iberian Peninsula under the rule and patronage of the Holy Roman Empire. So Latinos can be White, Black, Indigenous American, Mestizo, Mulatto, Asian (another confusing term), multi-racial…
What do you people call Grandma?
Anonymous,
Bethel, CT
I’m Caucasian and raised as a Jew. She was Catholic and my daughter’s mother-in-law. I thought that was the only difference between us.
You’re Dominican? But you’re Black, really.
Juleyka,
Oxford, CT.
This phrase is often said to me by African Americans and other (usually darker) people from the Caribbean who insist that though I am Dominican/Latina, I am Black in the United States because of its racial history and current xenophobic climate. It’s nullifying in so many respects, and usually leads me to lose respect for the person, who is doing to me–classifying, categorizing, boxing-in–what Whites have done to “others” for centuries.
I am a not an object
Megan Hoban,
Ridgefield, CT.
Being a caucasian woman in the US I see sexual assault every day. I am proud to be who I am and I am proud of my body. With that being said I refuse to be looked at as an object or treated with any less respect because I am a female.
Ain’t much if you ain’t Dutch
Adam Minkema,
Hamden, CT
My father always taught me to be proud of my roots. As a young boy, I was susceptible to getting picked on because I was very pale and had long blonde hair. He explained to me that my ancestral make-up of genes was to blame for my unique complexion, but it was nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, I would look right at home in the Netherlands and plan on visiting soon. This taught me to be proud of my background and embrace it.
Anthropology 411 at the University of New Hampshire
