Don’t forget about the smaller nationalities
Emily Kim,
Garden Grove, CA
I look Vietnamese, I have a common Korean last name but I’m neither, I’m Cambodian. All my life I grew up with peers always assuming I’m Vietnamese without even asking what race I am first. I went to schools that dominantly had Vietnamese students witch is why they probably why they assumed I was Vietnamese too. Others thought I was Korean after they found out my last name was “Kim”. Every time I bring up that I’m not Vietnamese, they look at me in shock and so it turns into a guessing game of which nationality I am.
What nationality are you anyway?
Kristina,
Zion, IL.
I’m multiracial, which caused an identity crisis in my teens. I was never enough of one race or the other to really fit in with anyone. So, I decided to just be myself. I can love all my ethnicities, and the people who were meant to love me understand that.
Unlearning racism is hard.
Patrick,
FL
I grew up to racist parents in a particularly a diverse area. You can imagine the views I developed.
Over time I have unlearned what was fed to me. I still hold a few cultural prejudices that I cannot work around as they really do go against my values. But I’m proud to say that my first impression of someone is no longer influenced by the colour of their skin or nationality.
However, as a white European, I dislike the term African American. Being black, white or brown is a personal attribute and identifying physical feature, like your eye colour, hair colour or stature. Your culture and colour aren’t necessarily linked. African American seems like a differential term that introduces another standerd of being “American”, plus black people are diverse and don’t just originate from Africa, or may have US family origins that predate the formation of the USA.
Appearing strong. Mending daily. Race matters.
Anthony Charles Bradburn,
Crystal Lake, IL.
As a Dominican, it’s easy to get lost in nationality. The truth is I have a rich, beautiful Black line of people before me. I am honored to stand with them and cull their strength. The truth is I have white, Spanish Imperialistic blood in me. The truth is the great Taino tribe reigned in Hispanola before these other groups arrived. More space is required to express how I feel about all of this, but at a glance–excited, scared, tender. For now, that about covers it.
I am not one for boxes.
Denise Duvernay,
Cupertino, CA.
People are always trying to figure out exactly, what I am. But does learning my nationality, ethnicity, religion, sexual background, or any other particular thing tell you anything about WHO I AM? So often, I feel like people are just looking for any excuse to dismiss you, or box you into their own narrow view of what they want you to be, so I live my life challenging everyone’s basic biases. I work at Trader Joe’s, but that doesn’t mean I’m uneducated; I actually hold a Juris Doctorate. And just because you think I look white, don’t make me deny my father’s heritage. And I wear my freckles proudly, I am sorry if you think I may be prettier if I bleached them or covered them up with makeup. I embrace all the differences that make me an unconventional beauty, weighing more than you might expect. I am smart, funny, caring, and generous. I love food and traveling. And I will do anything for my family. Knowing which boxes I check off on my census paperwork will never truly reveal all of the wonderful intricacies that make me, so ME!
Veil, black, nationality, gender, food, proper names
Asmaa Benbaba,
Auburn, AL.
In more instances than one, the veil is considered as a symbol of subservience and exclusion by western media. As a result, a lot of people reproduce the same thoughts and behavior towards those women who choose the veil as an identity and refuse to think critically of the socio-cultural and historical milieu that the veil represents.
Oh, you’re white, right? No, actually.
Hilary Forrest,
Pasadena, CA.
Every single time a person meets me, they’ll assume my race is “white.” That’s where you’re wrong. My nationality is American; my ethnicities are Hispanic as well as Icelandic. But no, of course because of the paleness of my skin or the freckles adorning my cheeks, I always get a, “No WAY! You’re not Latina. That’s impossible.” So shoutout to all the people who just think I’m a total white girl because of the way I speak, how I sometimes struggle with my Spanish and am critiqued because I can’t speak their tongue as well as they can, excuse me, and especially because of how my family appears as well.
Can we all forgive and forget?
Brent Pappas,
Cooper City, FL.
Normally, I feel it is prudent to forgive others when they wrong us, and to remember their previous actions in order to predict how they will act next and best prepare for it. Increasingly however, I have begun to feel that perhaps it would be for the best if everyone one day woke up and forgot all their preconceived notions about other cultures as well as all the injustices committed to others based upon race, gender, sexual-orientation, nationality, religion, or any other discerning cultural factor. I just wonder what the world would be like today if we could all suddenly see each other anew with no frame of reference; like starting from a blank slate. I’m not sure if this would create a world of complete racial equality or one of the opposite, but I assume the former would be established. If racial prejudice is not inherent (and while I believe trepidation about interacting with other cultures in general is, I believe that prejudice to other cultures is not), then this hypothetical scenario would naturally create a world lacking prejudice.
The key takeaway from this idea is that it can simply (though not necessarily easily) be realized. Each of us must simply try to forget all the stereotypes, notions, and stigmas surrounding other cultures and instead base our opinions solely on our own interactions with them. If we would all do this, then I believe that the world would truly become a better place.
You are smart to be Mexican
Teresa Gonzalez,
Weslaco, TX.
Many people say expressions like this one without taking into consideration its being offensive. They don’t think or recall that being smart or dedicated to your job, school etc has nothing to intervene with your knowledge or nationality. Not because your Mexican they will treat you how they want. This is an example of many “maids or housekeeping” have to go through, because the people think that if they are doing those kind of jobs it’s because they don’t know anything, and just ” because they are Mexican. From my point of view they will be the ones being ignorant people who don’t even know what they are expressing.
You are what you pass for.
Amber,
New York, NY.
I had an interesting experience at a Family Health Center today. I was experiencing trouble at home with applying for health care online and sought help finishing the application with a woman named Carmen who specializes in enrolling people. She said my ethnicity was in question and that it was affecting my eligibility.
She asked me if I was Spanish or white. I said, white, but quarter Spanish.
She asked where my parents were born. I said, Brooklyn & Bronx. Then she determined I was full white because I’m American.
I asked Carmen, “So your grandchildren are white?” She said, “Excuse me?” Carmen was of Spanish descent with an obvious accent.
I said, “I think you’re confused, my nationality is American. A person’s ethnicity is not determined by nationality. There are a wide range of ethnicities here in the U.S.”
Then she said, “No. You can answer however you may like, but you’re white.”
I said, “Yes, I’m white, but nobody is a full breed anymore. People can be mixed races, but what counts is how you look I guess? What you pass for. What am I? Each grandparent is from a different country.” I felt shame for saying claiming you I was.
It was a ridiculous conversation that was insignificant. I had to leave early to go to my Dr appt and when I returned she said she put my application through and that I wasn’t eligible for health insurance. That was upsetting for me because I am going through a rough financial time in my life with a serious health issue.
I went home and called the NYS marketplace and a very nice person helped me finish my application on the phone and I am now eligible for health insurance. What was the most interesting was that my eligibility had nothing to do with ethnicity, it had to do with showing proof of income or show last paycheck. I scanned those in and now all is good. On top of that, she submitted my application empty.
I don’t know how many people she refused to help or had a similar race conversation with, but it is extremely unprofessional and a horrible feeling to be at the mercy of someone who you need help from. I felt very uncomfortable in her presence, like she had already written me off or assumed who I was, but was saccharine sweet to people who spoke with a Spanish accent.
As someone who views dating a racist as a deal breaker I felt like saying, you’re picking on the wrong person, your anger is misdirected. But I don’t need her validation. I don’t lump all Spanish people as awful like that woman, I know better. I know that the only point they are making is useless and from anger. I just feel sad that people perpetuate a cycle they hate. If you don’t want racism in your life, then why are you making it a part of your life?
My race is not my nationality.
Linda Morris,
Shawnee, KS.
Growing up, I got teased a lot for being a fair-skinned black girl by kids who would assume and make sure I knew that one of my parents surely must be white or another nationality besides “black” (ah, kids). When I became a teen and young adult, I would get asked a lot of times what my nationality was as if it was a way to explain my lack of what they considered the appropriate amount of pigmentation to allow me to be a black “American.” When, in my adulthood, I gave birth to my first son–whose father is white and who quickly went from being a dark-haired beauty at the hospital to a light-blond, bright blue-eyed angel in what seemed a matter of days–we would be out on walks together, just loving each other, being mommy and son.
Invariably, I would get doting, curious passersby stopping, ogling him while asking me, “How long have you been taking care of him?” I would smile to myself (always feeling a little sorry at first for the person) and say, “All his life.” And they’d usually follow this with, “His mother must really trust you.” And I would say, “Well, since I’m his mother, I would hope so.” Then they’d look at me, rather startled, look to my son, then look back to me and very delicately ask me, “Oh, really? What nationality are you?” I’d answer, still smiling to myself, “American.” And they’d say, “No… you know what I mean.” And I would look at them innocently (didn’t want to make it too easy) and say, “No, I’m sure I don’t.” Then the raised eyebrows of shared understanding, the wink of confidentiality–as if we had just established a friendship based on racial profiling–followed by the inevitable, “YOU know… what… you know…?” And, dropping the smile, I would propose, “Yes, actually, I do know, but just so YOU know, my nationality is not my race.” And I would tell them to “Have a nice day!” and walk away.
I have two sons now, both rather fair skinned, both glorious, both melting pots of wonder. And still, to this day, people will ask me, “What’s your nationality?” as their delicate, considerate way of asking if I really could possibly be the mother of these two obviously not black looking (in their opinion) children now young men. I find great irony in the fact that, as a child and young adult, I wasn’t dark enough to just be “black” and now, with my sons, they’re not dark enough to belong to someone who can just be “black.” And, now, I just don’t bother answering, because, truth? I’m their mom and their my sons and that’s all that matters.
I’m Black, not African American
Trish,
Houston, TX.
I’m Black. I’m American. Black is my race. American is my nationality. One has nothing to do with the other. How can all Black people be African American? It’s impossible for a Black person who was born in the UK, to be an African American. Black Americans are not “special” kind of Americans who are less American than another group. There is no differentiation between a Black person born in America and a White person born in America. An African-American is a person born in Africa, who immigrates to the US, then becomes a US citizen. That is their NATIONALITY. Their race is Black. You don’t hear White people with German heritage referred to as German Americans. They’re just Americans, unless they were born in Germany and immigrated, then became an American citizen. Being proud of one’s heritage is good, but race and nationality are two different things.
What nationality are your kids? Really?!
Elizabeth Chennamchetty,
San Diego, CA.
Jew is not Race, it’s religion
Joseph Ratner,
Morrisville, NC.
This is interesting because as a child friends would ask me what I was nationality and I always said Jewish. As I got older I had to evaluate the reasons and now at half a century old I think I get it now Being Jewish is an identity. we have Jewish food, Jewish culture, and so as a result it has become an identity, a nation in and of itself spread out across the globe.
Race is irrelevant: I’m just HUMAN
Rabab Ahmed,
Stamford, CT.
“Where are you from?” is a question I used to proudly answer to when I was younger. Although I always had to clarify, “no, it’s not in India. It’s a small country right next to India.” But as I got older I found the question tedious and sometimes puzzling. It wasn’t just because I became a balance of the two and thus couldn’t understand the need to differentiate between them, but also because I found I could answer that in so many ways. Am I being asked where I “originally” came from? Where I was born? Where I grew up? Or where I moved to in the United States, making it my pseudo-hometown? Bangladesh. Saudi Arabia. Long Island, New York. If you ask me my nationality, it’s American. Bangladeshi-American, if we want to employ hyphens and specifics. I was born in Dhaka, spent a greater part of my childhood in Bangladesh as well as Saudi Arabia. And then New York. And now I’m a resident of Connecticut. A Connecticutian, if you will.
Yes, I’m “Bangladeshi-American.” But that is only a portion of who I am, where I’m from, what I’m all about. I’m a human being – of the Human race; I’m of the Earth. That’s really all that matters to me. You just want to know where I’m from to see if I might have an accent, if you can define what kind of interests I might have, what kind of family I might be from, and what kind of person I likely married. But it really just doesn’t matter because I’m not of one race or two – I’m of all the races combined, just like the rest of you are.
Race is irrelevant.
Hometown never knew anybody unlike me
Scott A. Hall
Adel, IA
Growing up in a small Midwestern town the entire population of the town looked like me, acted like me, worshiped like me. It wasn’t really until college that I was able to truly experience diversity of culture, race, nationality.
I adopted two girls from China!
Anonymous.
Omaha, NE
“Excuse me, what’s your nationality?”
“I’m from the U.S.”
“No,” he chuckled, “like, where are you originally from?”
“I was born and raised in the U.S.”
“You know what I mean!”
“You’re talking about ethnicity…” I offered.
“Yeah, whatever. Like, where are you really from?”
“I’m Chinese.”
“That’s what I thought!” I was looking at you and wondering if you were mixed or something.”
Silence.
“I adopted two girls from China!”
“Good for you.”
(Questions to not accost strangers with at the gym)
