The Race Card Project
By Michele Norris
Victoria,
Salem, OR.
As a biracial person, people often ask me, “what ethnicity are you?” – aka what race can I define you as? People who first meet me will ask me this question without ever asking for my name. They seem to only care about what I am not who I am. However, I am more than just white and Asian and Jewish. I am a compassionate person and if you stopped asking about my race, then you would get the chance to meet me.
Jayme,
Durham, NH
As humans, we are all unique and different whether that is race, gender, sexuality, cultures, upbringings or even just interests. Instead of dividing ourselves based on these differences, we should celebrate these differences and use them as a way to grow our knowledge and empathy. Instead of hate, we should approach unfamiliar differences with a sense of love and curiosity.
Charlotte Wong
Santa Cruz, CA
I am half Chinese, and half sort-kind-of-European. I don’t know what kind of European. I never knew my father, who was white, and my mother never knew his true ethnic background, aside for him being white. My mother would always say “your father would say he is like Heinz Ketchup” in reference to his ethnicity. To me that made no sense. My race and ethnicity has always been a curiosity to me. I know for a fact that I am Chinese, hence the surname Wong, but for as long as I can remember I have been curious about my paternal side. Almost everyone I have ever met has enjoyed playing the “Guess What Am I Game?” with me. Most of the time, they are wrong. No I am not Polish, no I am not Greek, and no I am not Ukrainian. Later in my life, when I am not a poor college student, I will most likely do a DNA test to figure out exactly my paternal ethnicity.
SLTR
Seattle, WA
I was raised in a white protestant homogenous family. From the time I was young, my curiosity led me to friends of other colors, races, personalities…anything new. In my 40’s I find myself with a Mexican husband, in a profession where I constantly learn and teach in a petri dish of races, languages and cultural differences. Behind it all, I feel fear that I will make a mistake, offend, hurt, or be hurt in these conversations…because it happens. It is worth the personal risk. My life is rich with travel experiences, culture, new ideas and growth. After years of growing through my fears, I have the ability to give and receive friendship and love wherever and in whatever race-package it comes. I am grateful not to be shut out of cultural communities for being white. I’m humbled by the capacity for forgiveness and acceptance by others who have been hurt by white privilege. At the same time, I benefit from it.
Keiko McCracken
Anacortes, WA
I am half white, half Japanese. I can’t count the times someone has asked about my race, commented on my looks or name, or altered their response to me based on how I appear. As a child, I was teased because of my background; as an adult, I’ve had someone run down the road after me shouting pidgin English, because he assumed I didn’t speak the language. Even so, I’m baffled by the offense taken by those of mixed race when they are questioned about their heritage. Curiosity defines us; we are visual creatures, we wonder, we wrestle with new data and, yes, we do classify, but we also reorganize our beliefs based on new information. (Well, those of us who aren’t climate-deniers do.) Is there an area in our lives where we DON’T do this? And why should race be different? There was a recent National Geographic with numerous gorgeous portraits of mixed-race individuals. Was there a single reader who DIDN’T examine each picture and then read the accompanying captions (denoting each person’s racial mix) with pleasure? The more we know about our world, the larger it becomes. Rather than take offense at the question, understand the opportunity to create a new understanding. That individual who chased after me shouting pidgin English? He was a WWII veteran, pleased to share with me his experience in Japan as a young soldier, pleased to find this pathway back to a memory that defined him and the world he knew–pleased, in other words, to find an experience that created in his mind a connection with another person–even one based on imperfect understanding (I’ve never been to Japan). In a world where we know so little about others and have so few opportunities to begin the kind of discussion that leads to greater connection, is that so wrong?
Craig Schoonmaker
Leesburg, VA
“You are from Jamaica. How come you are not black?”
“Are your parents black?”
I don’t mind the questions and curiosity but sometimes, it gets a bit old 🙂
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