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My skin is not my culture.

Rachel Brinson,
Centennial, CO.

People always want to put me in a box and assume what I find offensive, what I find familiar, and how I choose to see myself and others. No one chooses to see human first, identity second. I will forever be explaining that the body given to me is arbitrary, and I exist inside of it. I am adopted and was raised as a German Lutheran. I grew up around many Asian cultures but never experienced African American culture until I was well into my 20’s. Biologically, I have an African father and a white mother, but my birth parents do not define me; my family does.

Outside I’m Black, inside I’m multitudes

Julie Bayley,
Bronx, NY

p>I am so tired of being “classified“. As with most people of darker hue on this side of the diaspora, I am not simply black I am a first-generation American born of immigrants who came here from the Caribbean that gumbo contains Maroon, Spanish, Irish Scottish, and Taino. I will never forget being 10 years old and having a census taker sitting in our dining room becoming frustrated with my mother because each time she was asked to identify the race she said “human”. This was in 1970 that lesson has never left me. However, I’ve had to live in America as if that lesson never existed

“Beauty Inside Shines through the Outside”

Me-Kids-spouses-and-grandchildren-41Matthew Powers,
Riverside, CA.

“Growing up Irish and being raised by a single mom in the 50’s and 60’s in Omaha I saw racial tension and acts all around the city, but I can’t say I understood anything about it until my younger sister and I were transferred to a different school because mom couldn’t afford the tuition at the Catholic school we were attending. The elementary school we were moved to was an all African-American school and we were the only “white” kids there, we took a lot of abuse and faced the fact that our skin color wouldn’t allow us to fit in or be accepted. We were the target of a lot of being beat on, racial slurs, isolation, and being chased home daily but eventually we did make a few close friends and things settled down. I can’t say we ever fit in but we survived and built a few relationships. It was one of the best things that could have happened to me from an understanding point of view as I saw and felt from the other side what being defined by a color or race felt like, it didn’t matter who I was inside. My family reflects that lesson we learned, my seven children’s mother had a white mother and African-American father, my children are mixed and they are proud of it, and have spouses and boyfriends and girlfriends from other races and it’s a beautiful community. My sister married a Mexican man and had three boys. Through the experience I learned that true beauty, goodness, and humanity comes from the inside, and shines through the outside regardless of what color or race that outside is and we taught the kids to see all people in the same way, individually from the inside out.” CBU HIS 311

Not just a little white girl

Nicolette Vogelman,
West Chester, PA

Most people see me as a quiet, little blonde girl. Honestly, I’ve heard people refer to me as a little white girl. In large crowds, I have heard people say “there she is, the little white girl.” I hate being referred to that. Yes I am small and your typical little white girl but I have way much more going for me than to be called a little white girl. Being called that, is embarrassing. I feel helpless. From the outside, I may just be a little ole white girl but the inside is much much more.

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