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Wearing your difference on the outside.

mona-lrMona Khadr,
Washington, DC.

“But where are you from, originally?” is a question I get a lot. When I was younger, I answered proudly (“Egyptian!”) because my heritage was something that made me unique from my mostly white-American peers in the suburbs of MD and PA. As I got older and entered high school, college, and the work force, things changed both in myself and in society. I was becoming more sensitive about this question and aware that some people had preconceived notions about Arabs because of what they saw either in 80s and 90s movies and TV shows, where Arabs were often portrayed as terrorists, or because of very unfortunate events in the news. And there didn’t seem to be any portrayals in the media or popular culture of “normal” Arabs to even things out. I started wondering about the best way to answer while retaining my right to privacy. I received advice from colleagues who were also either immigrants themselves or from immigrant families. Some advised me it was nobody’s business where you’re from and to keep it to yourself. These people basically promoted the idea of playing a game of chicken until the question-asker gets the hint and stops asking. But that can lead to awkwardness in a conversation if a person doesn’t “get the hint” to stop their line of questioning (as if you didn’t understand the question the first or second time), and I’m not a confrontational person by nature – so this would be uncomfortable for me. And I truly don’t believe that everyone who asks this question has bad intentions – most are just innocent and curious. I tend to evaluate on a case-by-case basis depending on the tone of the conversation, where it’s taking place, and the vibe I’m getting from the person asking questions. Sometimes it feels completely innocent, like someone in a store or a restaurant asking me where I’m from because they think I look like I was from their home country. And sometimes it feels completely inappropriate, like a colleague in the workplace asking the same question. (You’d think everyone would know that this question is illegal to ask in any workplace in the U.S., but they don’t!) Luckily I’ve never encountered a hostile person asking this question, and I’m not entirely sure what I would do in that situation. I still have no perfect way to handle this question, so I just try to take it one instance at a time. Wearing your difference or your uniqueness on the outside is a fact of life for many people (tall people; short people; people with physical disabilities; women in a male-dominated workplace/field; any minority in a majority-dominated situation), so I try my best to keep that in mind and take it in stride.

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

You shouldn’t judge from the outside

Lexie Cagle,
Wichita, KS

What you see on the outside isn’t always what it is on the inside, how do you really know a person unless you talk to them, surround yourself by them? You cant define someone or judge them or know exactly who they are just because of there skin color. yes they may be different from you but that doesn’t make you a know it all. what i may seem or come off as isn’t who i am until you dig deeper.

“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.

Not white enough and too white.

Maritza Aviles de Garcia,
Dallas, TX.

My entire life has been spent walking between two worlds, the predominantly white world outside of my home, and the watered-down Puerto Rican culture of my home. Growing in Central Texas, there were three Puerto Rican families. We were one of them. I translated for my parents whether they liked it or not. It made white people realize that if I was smart enough as a kid to translate between two languages, then my parents must be smart too. Some folks would change the way they treated my parents. I witnessed this as a child in the eighties.

As I got older, identity became more complicated. People were looking for clear-cut labels. On more than several occasions, I was asked, “What are you?” My response, “I’m a human female.” (I was a trekkie at heart.) No one liked that answer. When they persisted, I explained they were asking the wrong question. I’m not a “what,” I’m a “who.”

So to sheltered white folks, I wasn’t white enough. I was exotic. To everyone else, including other Puerto Ricans, I was white. I never belonged. It still kinda hurts me to say that. I wasn’t actively trying to defy societal norms regarding race and culture. It was pretty obvious to me when the lines were being drawn.

I also had issues with forms. Hispanic is not a race, it’s a culture. No, it’s a label for a group of people who speak Spanish. Spanish speakers come from different countries with diverse cultures and dialects. No one wanted to hear that back then.

Now I’m forty. Has anything changed? Yes. Those who love indiscriminately are more numerous than before. More voices speaking out all at once can’t be easily silenced.

You are more than one race?

R.E.A.L. Talk,
High Tech Middle Media Arts,
7th Grade Trailblazer

Before this project I didn’t know much about race or racism, but then I figured out a lot of people have been stereotypical or racist in my community, with my friends, or people on social media. When I heard this term that people were saying it kind of hurt me because they were saying things like ¨ All white girls do this…¨ and I didn’t know how to react because I didn’t know that was towards me. I thought this because I didn’t identify as ¨white.” I identified as Irish, Norwegian, Scottish, and more. That’s how I got this memoir because a lot of people think I am just ¨White¨ or ¨American¨ but I wanted to prove that I am more than that, I think I´m way more unique this way. I´ve grown up in amazing, loving and accepting family, I’ve always been taught to treat people how they want to be treated, which helped me because some parents don’t teach their kids about racism and how everyone should be treated the same, which could cause problems when their older because if we don’t address this problem nothing will change. Sometimes people don´t want to talk about the issue of racism because it could be uncomfortable or they don’t want to talk about the negative parts of life and what’s going on.

Race was made by US.

Race was not made by genetics, it was made by US. Most people think race is biologically real, but it was really made by Europeans who found people that looked and talked differently from them, so they categorized them into a ¨race.¨ This happened because they were ¨usually assigning the highest qualities to their own people and lower qualities to the “Other” people, either lower classes or outsiders to their society.¨ They made it so they were more powerful than people that were different from them. Race is a manmade word that turned into racism, which caused a lot of controversy between different ethnicities, because they were being rude to each other, but it all started with the Europeans being racist, then evaluated to ¨white¨ people being racist against ¨black¨ people. Racism back then was awful: there were separate water fountains, pools, schools. Even though we’ve come a long way with fixing a lot of racism in our world, there is still a very long way to go because we don’t accept the fact that it doesn’t matter what you look like on the outside. It matters what you look like on the inside.

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