Dutch, we are cheaper than a dozen
Keaton Van Kekerix,
Orange City, IA
Dutch people are said to be very cheap and I live in a Dutch community. Northwest Iowa Community College.
No, I’m “really” from New York.
Kate Lee van Loveren,
Ann Arbor, MI.
I was born in New York, grew up in New York, and live in New York (when I’m not at school). I’m of half Chinese and half Dutch descent, but for some people that registers into me not being American for some reason. Just by looking at me, people will ask where I’m from. I will say New York and ask where they are from, knowing the question they’re going to ask next. Like expected, they ask where I’m REALLY from because I must have been lying to them the first time. I’m REALLY from New York. Did you know that people from other countries can immigrate into the United States and live in America and raise families in America and have American citizenship and be AMERICAN? Fascinating, I know.
No offense BUT, what are you?
Francesca Sam-Sin,
Katy, TX.
“No offense BUT, what are you?” That’s usually how the conversation about my race begins.
When I arrived in the U.S. in the 80’s I was really surprised by the emphasis on race. The first time someone asked what “race” I was, it took me a minute to understand exactly what they were referring to. Race? A potato sack race? A sprinter? A distance runner? OH! My ethnicity. Wow! I had never been asked that before. I was born in Holland, raised in Suriname (Dutch Guyana). In simplistic American terms my mom is White and my dad, Black. In cultural and historical terms, my mom is the product of a French father and Dominican mother-my father is the product of a Creole mother and Black and Chinese father. I grew up knowing my culture, my ethnic background…never a color. You were either Dutch or Surinamese, not black or white. So, when people say: “No offense but, what are you?!” I give them a history lesson, not a color. I don’t consider myself Black or White. I’m a mixture of so many things that the best answer I can give people is that I’m an “other.” I am all the other things that are not on the list of races. I feel that if I chose one ethnicity, I would be denying another. I embrace everything that I am and suffer the injustices of all minorities.
From my perspective, it would be a lot easier to identify with one group of people because the reality is that I’m never truly accepted by ANY. In Junior High I wasn’t Black enough…in high school I wasn’t White enough and by the time I went to college, people had become more politically correct and just called me “exotic” (like a bird or something?!). Racially I’ve never belonged anywhere and culturally I’m scattered everywhere– from China to Suriname to Holland to America. I’m proud of my heritage, but I think that the focus society has placed on “categorizing” people has resulted in many of us who are multi-cultural to choose one or the other. So, I choose “Other.” It’s time for people to start thinking outside the (race) “box.”
In Indonesia I am asked “Dutch”?
Nancy Deschu,
Anchorage, AK.
My Dutch ancestors arrived in New Amsterdam in 1624. Now, four hundred years later, I live in Alaska but my roots in New Jersey are strong and deep. While traveling in Sulawesi, Indonesia 15 years ago, locals would ask me, “Blanda?”, or what I learned was a slang term for “Dutch”. I felt shame because of the history of the Dutch colonial occupation of Indonesia and brutality to Indonesian people. Most people asked in a circumspect, curious way, though one man refused me a taxi ride. Usually I just answered “Alaska”, an easy way out, because this answer usually sidetracked any further conversation, and elicited a response of wide-eyed smiling response – “Ah! A-lask-ka!”.
Do I have to Dutch Dance?
Gabi,
Holland, MI
Just Because I am Dutch does not mean I have to Dutch Dance. People should not be forced to do or like something just because of their race.
You look too foreign for me.
Danielle Silver
Forest Park, OH
A white guy I liked told me this. I am white( German, Irish, Penn. Dutch), Hispanic, Native American. I used to get asked where I was from in school. I said, “I’m an American.” My ancestors have been here for generations. My full brother has never been asked where he is from.
Uniquely Made, The American Girl Today
Christina Rains,
Riverside, CA.
French, Indian, Mexican, Dutch, but American?
It is quite clear that you cannot judge individuals by their color. Race in reality just identifies where your family has lived and what part of the world you are from. Throughout my life, I have been called “white girl” but in reality, this categorization is far from the truth. Both sides of my family are trilingual (speaking French, Spanish, and English), and yet my great grandparents and grandparents chose to assimilate by not continuing to teach their native languages. Despite the assimilation, I am proud to be an American. As a result of the loss of my family’s native languages I have never mastered Spanish, much to my disappointment. I have been frustrated with the association of the term “white” since the term now seems to be synonymous with the term racist or prejudice. I feel that this is unfair since many individuals that are categorized as white are not racist or prejudice. Many individuals seem to have forgotten the America has been striving through the education system and legal system to establish equality for all races. Although America is still working towards equality, equality is finally within our grasp. I am excited to be part of the race card project, so that I can make a difference and stand up for racial equality and universal value for human life. It is important to realize that God created all individuals equally and in His image. Thus, who are we to judge others by their race whether Latino, Asian, African American, or White.
HIS311 CBU!
No, I am not a foreigner.
Denise Valstar,
Netherlands
Very often people ask me where I am from. I am born in the Netherlands, my parents are born here. The only reason for my ‘not so white’ skin is my grandmother who originates from Indonesia. I’ve been asked so many times if I speak Arabic or any other African or South American language. When I tell them I am just a Dutch woman, they blink and ask me if I’m sure.
Wel.. yes. I’m pretty sure I know where I come from. Thank you.
Thank you for pointing that out.
Lani Broederlow,
Salt Lake City, UT.
I am Polynesian. I have been told that my appearance does not reflect my last name. It is of Dutch descent and the funny thing is, it’s not even my last name; it’s my husband’s. It’s strange how we tend to sort each other into categories and labels. I don’t know that we will ever stop.
I’m only allowed to be white
Carrie Hunsinger,
Wilmington, DE.
I am a 1/2 first generation American. My Mother is American (Detroit) and my father is Dutch (Holland). He’s been here almost 60 years and he still speaks with a heavy Dutch accent and therefore I speak English with a bit of a Dutch accent.
When 9/11 happened I was in college in Newark, NJ. I remember talking about the events in class afterwards and getting yelled at by a Syrian girl during a class because I was talking about my fear of seeing backlash attacks in NJ. From her view I couldn’t know what it was like to be immigrant’s kid in America, because I was white, and could not have immigrant parents. A few days later cops pulled my father over on the highways with a bunch of other people because they were looking for terrorists driving mini-vans and he fit the description since he was tan and had an accent.
I have lost count of how many times I been told that being Dutch and being white is the same thing. That all of the western part of Europe is the same. I’ve been told being of European descent, especially being Dutch, automatically makes both racist and more at fault for slavery then other white people because of the Dutch slaves ships. Also, as I am constantly being mistaken for being German, I have been blamed for the Holocaust as well. I am not allowed to be a Dutch-American, or even a European-American. I don’t normally even see Caucasian listed anymore on forms. I am definitely not allowed to understand immigrant issues or what it’s like to be the first in your family to graduate college, or to have a family that overcame hardships and poverty to find the American Dream. I am not allowed to not be at fault for this country’s past (or Europe’s involvement) even though I learned in school along with all the other immigrants kids. I am part of the problem and at the same time, I’m told there’s nothing I can do help be part of the solution because as a white person, I am the problem.
You look just like your dad.
Kelsey R.,
Primghar, IA
I was adopted at the age of 2 months old. Most people who know my family know this about me. Others just assume I’m their biological child because I look just like my dad. I have heard this throughout my whole life. Adults didn’t believe me as a child when I told them I was adopted because I look so much like him. My dad’s parents were 100% Dutch. I am a mixture of different races based on my DNA analysis. I have no Dutch in my blood but somehow we have all of the same features. This is something special to me and has given me a sense of belonging.
Which category do I belong to?
Patrilie Hernandez,
Washington, DC.
When you look at me, what race do you see? Do you see my dark skinned grandparents, whose African relatives escaped from the Dutch slave trade? Do you see my last name, which reflects my “Latina” heritage, or do you see a brunette “white” girl, after hearing the way I speak and act? Racially ambigous is the term they use, but ignores the beautiful mesh of colors and culture that make me….me.
A “melting-pot” of my past & future.
Holly Sandman,
Ione, CA.
I’ve been learning a lot about my ancestors and their immigration into America. I am Irish. I am Scottish. I am Dutch. I am German. I am Swedish, and these are only the ones I have identified so far. I am a melting pot of ancestors and struggles and successes. But I am here, and I want to do something positive with my time on this Earth. I have children, and they will carry my melting pot of history with them, along with that of their father, who brings to the table more German, and Greek. So how do I identify with a generic term of “white”. It’s not that simple, yet I do want to honor my heritage such as it is. I want to honor that the Irish were discriminated against when they first immigrated, yet they stayed and fought for their place here, as did many other immigrants. I don’t think any one race or nationality is better than any other. We all bring to the table unique histories and contributions. We all have the ability to love each other and lift each other up and encourage one another as fellow humans. That is the legacy I hope to leave my children. One of service to each other in wanting this world to be a better place because we were all in it.
Thank you for reading.
Call Me Mutt: One Doesn’t Fit
Mark Sundermann
Holt, MI
This morning’s story about Mixed Heritage gave me hope. How does one pick from the following? German, Mexican, Dutch, Zapotec, Irish and (possibly) Menomini? I’m a MUTT.
Oh, so your mother is Dutch.
Alexander Calica, II,
Carlsbar, CA.
This phrase was often used by adults when I was growing up after hearing my answer to their question,
“What nationality are you?” I would always respond by saying, “My father is Filipino and my mother is Dutch.” The initial inquiry would be posed after having heard me speak at length. Policemen would say it after singling me out for questioning when walking with my friends Carl Nothwang, timothydKeim, and Harold Weisbecker.I grew up in the post World War II suburbs os San Diego. New teachers woudl inquire about my nationality after having performed exceptionally well on an assignment. Sometimes I had earned among the higher scores of the class. Parents of friends and other authority figures would pose the inevitible question after being introduced to them and after having engaged me in conversation. This ritual followed me through grade school, college and throughout much of my professional life. Each time the phrase was used it was delivered as a declaritive statement with emphasis on the last two words. The user would always seem to be expressing relief of having solved a perplexing problem, having come to some sort of satisfying finality. Apparently, my appearence presented itself enigmatcally to my words and actions.
White American: No Culture or Identity
Lance Remington Stuart Rood
Redlands, CA
Sometimes I feel like I have no identity. White american? what is that? Irish? German? Dutch? Danish? I want to be able to identify with those around me. I love learning about people. Their heritage, traditions and culture. By knowing someones race or races I can then proceed to ask about ones upbringing and their opinions on how they view the world. But when I try to learn and connect with people I get the ‘Oh, you’re white, you wouldn’t know or understand’. Then help me to understand! I’m not going to put you in a box so please don’t put me in a box. Every person is unique and deserves me to treat them with love! Please do the same to me!
I’m a German Russian Nazi Jew.
Rachel Stahr
Bozrah, CT
This is my heritage. My maternal grandfather and father are both Pennsylvania Dutch, but my great-grandmother is where things get interesting. Her family emigrated from Russia and was Jewish. She studied German and later moved there. She married a man who I’ve been told was in the S.S. Before things got too dangerous, she moved back to the US with her two daughters. This is what I grew up knowing. In the early 90s, I felt I had to hide the fact that I was of German descent because all the school children around me meant that meant I was a Nazi-and of course it didn’t. In high school, I adopted this phrase to describe my heritage. I don’t use it unless I can then explain it, but it how my family was shaped.
