The Race Card Project
By Michele Norris
JSRL Padre,
Glendale, CA.
I am Filipino. Born in Quezon. Imported to East LA. Learned to walk and talk in Los Feliz. Never heard Tagalog at home. It’s not my parent’s first language. That would be Ilocano for my papa, and maybe Alcalenian or Pangasinan for mama. Because of where I grew up, Spanish is more native to me than Tagalog. But every Filipino I meet at work assumes I speak Tagalog. And when they realize I don’t, they disparage me and my parents.
Tanya,
Manakin Sabot, VA.
My (adopted) son is biracial, his bio-father is unknown. I will never be able to connect him with his biological African American family. There is a void that I will never be able to fill for him . This breaks my heart as his mama.
Tanya,
Manakin Sabot, VA.
My (adopted) son is biracial, his bio-father is unknown. I will never be able to connect him with his biological African American family. There is a void that I will never be able to fill for him . This breaks my heart as his mama.
Tammy Medell Gardner
San Jose, CA
I am white. The man with whom I fell in love in 1982 was black. We met in Fort Worth, Texas working at the same company. He grew up in Charlotte, North Carolina, while I was from northern Michigan. Our romance, so new and full of hope, soon faltered with these words: “I can never take you home to meet my momma.” This young man’s proud, traditional, black, North Carolina momma could not accept a blonde, green-eyed, white girl as someone her son should be with. This was the first time in my life that I became aware of racism. Up to this point, I had somehow managed to live in a color-blind world. I was hurt and disappointed that someone could make a judgement about me without ever meeting me. The irony of this situation would’ve been comedic if my heart hadn’t been so broken.
Naghmeh Moshtael
Portland, OR
These are my daughter’s words. We live in a world of different race, culture and heritage. My husband in African American, born in Seattle and raised in Compton, CA. I am originally from Iran, raised in Cameroon (Central Africa) and now living in the US. My daughter is adopted from Ethiopia. She is my beautiful, smart and insightful child. So this is how she views her family: she is chocolate, so is Daddy but Mama is ice-cream (i.e. vanilla ice-cream)! I wish that the world was just that simple. Maybe then none of us would be judged by the color of our skin – but the different ingredients of delicious food.! Don’t you want to join my child’s world? I do. Everyday. In between time, the challenge remains to continue to raise her as a world citizen, one who prefers the wellbeing of others over hers.
Helene M. Angevine-Fina
Phoenix, AZ
My six words ( amazed how it fit!) were said when I was 3 years old (1959) and I had just seen my very first dark skinned person, a lovely women who laughed loud, long and hard when I said it. In my childs mind I realized that like many animals and birds, people came in different colors also. My parents had no prejudices, so fortunately race has NEVER been an issue for me.
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