Daughters of Muslim father are American.
Suzie Husami,
San Diego, CA.
My mother and father met in college in upstate New York – he, a Lebanese -Muslim-Republican named Muhammad and she, an American non-practicing Methodist-Democrat named Maureen. They fell in love and had three daughters – Najla, our olive-skinned sister, and my twin sister and me – pale and freckled. My mother chose a Lebanese name for her first child. Our father wanted American-sounding names for his second (and surprise third) so Maggie and Suzie were chosen. I’ve always loved my name – and loved the family I was raised in. Mine was a family that celebrated American and secularized-Christian holidays mixed with Lebanese ‘Hafli’s’ (parties) complete with belly dancers and tables heaped with Lebanese food.
I grew up thinking Lebni (a thick yogurt similar to Greek-style) was an American food – and only realized bagels were not middle eastern in elementary school when one of my Irish-American friends showed up with them at school. My father was a devout Muslim – and wanted his girls to learn more about the religion, but both of my parents felt the mosques in our area were too rigid – something my father didn’t want his girls to experience. He grew up in war-torn Beirut – where the constant fighting about ideals and spirituality lead him to adopt a more open-minded point-of-view: that differing perspectives were something to celebrate. It was this point of view that drew him to America – he fell in love with this country and the idea that all people are welcome.
I loved my father’s warm diplomacy, his quiet yet firm voice, the smell of his tobacco pipes – and the polite Arabic sayings that became part of our everyday communication. I always thought I might learn Arabic… beyond these polite sayings none of the Husami women spoke Arabic at all. It wasn’t until my father’s bloody nose was diagnosed as something more complicated that I began to realize that the middle eastern side of my family might be slipping away. My father dealt with a long battle with cancer – one that seemed to overtake my childhood. Eventually he succumbed in October of 1991. I grew up with a wonderful mix of two cultures but my sisters and I have always been and felt American – something I know my father had wanted for his children. The thing I yearn for now is to regain the Lebanese culture that infused my life when I was a child – and that began to slowly fade with my father’s passing.
Q: Where are YOU from? A: Here.
Lorena
San Diego, CA
I’m multiracial and live in a very ethnically diverse city, but I was still asked this question SO. MANY. TIMES. growing up. I never realized how ignorant and rude of a question it was until I became an adult. I can only hope no one asks my son this question. Because, really, the answer is simple: here.
I’m A Human, Not A Fruit
Gabrielle Guzman
San Diego, CA
Yes, I am Mexican. Yes, I know I apparently hold the same facial features as someone who would be considered Asian. No, I did not just cross the border. No, I do not speak Spanish, although I can understand it fluently and am taking classes to learn it. I am a human, I am not, as some of my friends and family like to say, a coconut. Brown on the outside, white on the inside. Just because I don’t fulfill your or society’s view of what someone of my background could act like, that does not mean that I am any less of a person, or any less proud, of my heritage. I am a human, not a fruit.
Pale freckled redhead burned by words
Marie Farrell,
Brooklyn, NY.
I grew up in San Diego, California where the sun shines all the time. I was the kid that never tanned, just freckled and burned. I was also raised by an Irish mother so there was a lot less love than fights and tension. I recall a day when I bravely went to school in shorts and was destroyed by the words of a black girl who said “You need to get a tan”! I was often looked at weird because of the pale skin, being told to tan as if it were that easy. I was told by a girl in my gymnastics class “You have freckles on your knees,” as if that was such an odd thing. I was called “Annie”, “Pippi”, “Strawberry Shortcake,” and later I was called more inappropriate names like “Fire Muff” and “Ginger”. Since having cancer and losing my hair it has grown back less red, but I feel I am always and will always be a redhead on the inside and out; always feeling like a fish out of water in a hot, sunny climate, being called names that most people might not think are racist, but no matter what they thought it stung. It burned me more than the awful sunburns I grew up with. As an adult I take pride in my “spots” and my pale skin, in my sort-of red hair, and my Irish heritage, but sometimes those words still burn
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First Black Female Air Traffic Controller
Sandra Durbin,
San Diego, CA.
It was hard. I was smart, black and female, 18 years old in 1966. I joined the U S Navy, because they promised me college. I give the govenment 3 years, and they give me four years of college. It was horrible. I was given a Captain’s Mast, at 8:30 PM, on a Saturday, when I checked aboard the base for “A” school, in Glynco GA. I had to go to a blimp hanger, late at night,and the people holding the mast, remained in the dark, and me seated in a single chair, with lights on my face. I felt like I was in a bad movie. I had done nothing wrong, except show up for school. I was accused of cheating in boot camp on the exams. They actually said that black people and especially women were not smart enough to be Air Traffic Controllers. The only reason I was not kicked out of school, before I even started, was because I had interned for Senator Tunney of California, and told my unknown inquistors that I would call him on the following Monday to find out if what they were doing was legal. I was then informed that it was an unoffical Captain’s Mast, and that there would be no record of it ever. I finished AC school, 3rd in my class, and was denied Radar School because I was a female (and I am sure being black played a part), because they said they did not want to waste the school on a woman who “might” get pregnant. I made 3rd Class Air Traffic Controller before I turned 19, which is really rare. But I was determined to prove that I was really intelligent, and not a cheater. Being black and female, in the service, during the late 60’s was a challenge, but I would not trade the experience because it made me a stronger person. And because of my service to my country, I am proud to say that I am the first female in my immediate family to finish both high school and college. Would I do it all over again? Yes. Do I wish it would have been easier? Absolutely.
White woman regrets black friend opportunity.
Jill Crusey,
San Diego, CA
Grew up on the south side of Chicago as a white girl who went to a high school where black students entered through one door and white students entered through another. Did not know how to bridge the divide in my heart and move toward my fellow black students even though we sat next to one another daily, Until Martin Luther King was assassinated and I felt the rage in the city that was burning, I did not know how to comprehend the issues. Today and everyday I want to apologize to my black friends for my inaction.
My children don’t look like me.
Ava Nanjung,
San Diego, CA
As an Indian/White mother to my three biological children of color, strangers find no issue asking me or them if they are adopted. Not one inherited my white skin.
I wish one of them looked more white. If they did, I wouldn’t have to worry about them simply existing in the US as a black person, having the police called on them for doing normal everyday things that Americans do, or having strangers judge them first by their skin. I wouldn’t have to worry about them being overlooked or mistreated simply based on the beautiful color of their skin. If even one of my children had received my likeness, my sweet, unearned privilege that comes from my white skin, then maybe I could spend one moment not worrying about the ugliness of this world and how it receives them.
Good hair is well maintained hair.
Jessica Elaine Burks,
San Diego, CA.
I am Black, Irish, and Native American. My paternal grandmother had straight long hair. My maternal grandmother had 4c textured hair. All my life I believed the myth that “good hair and long hair” do not belong to black women with 4C textured hair. My friends and even family members of non-black origins had no clue that actresses wore weave- even when they were white. None of my friends in grade school understood what a “kitchen” was. So I said I did it with a toothpick- and the next day five blonde haired blue eyed girls brought toothpicks to school so that I could curl their hair. It was a long time before I would realize any woman of any race can have bad hair. Overprocessed, dry, brittle, color damaged hair can happen to any race or ethnicity. But Good hair is well-maintained hair. Hair is not meant to be divisive pitting one woman against another. Hair is in fact, a woman’s individuality, her expression of glory. I had to cut my hair off after finding out I had Systemic Lupus. I am growing my daughter’s hair. As I was detangling her hair I told her she has GOOD HAIR. My mother was laid to rest before she could see the natural hair awakening. I wish she were alive to hear my say she has beautiful good hair.
It’s less than meets the eye
Felipe Ricketts,
San Diego, CA
Each one of us is unique and a unique expression of humanity. Humanity is the language we all share. Humanity will save the day. We, all of us, are the solution. Let’s find our humanity and act accordingly.
I’m ashamed to be white.
Jason Zeller,
San Diego, CA
Even though my ancestors came to the United States after slavery was abolished and I am not aware of their involvement in any racist activities, as a white person in America I am ashamed of the vile history of racist violence and genocidal activities that white people in the U.S. have engaged in over the years. I’m not sanguine about our ability as a society to overcome this toxic legacy. It seems to me that too much emphasis has been placed on race in the U.S. I don’t know how we can alter that pattern. I don’t see many examples anywhere in the world of properly functioning multi-racial societies. This may be attributable to the reality that humans evolved in tribes, and there is a certain comfort in having a sense of tribal affiliation. My own background involves five-or-six European nationalities, none of which I identify with. Moreover, I find most aspects of traditional “white” culture in the U.S. to be difficult to stomach. The U.S. was founded via a colonial mentality that condoned chattel slavery, Indian removal and massacres and conquest. Internationally we have repeatedly intervened in various Western Hemisphere countries not to mention in Asia, and more recently Africa. It’s a sorry history, not something to celebrate. I had no illusions that Obama’s election would lead to a post-racial America. Instead it brought on the Trump Administration, a racist cabal that led us backwards in racial terms. The notion that teaching Americans about our history of racist acts will somehow lead to a better society is dangerously naive. In many ways I believe that the American South is unyielding anchor impeding our ability to make any meaningful change in racial relations, although racism pervades all of the U.S. I’ve also been discouraged by racist attitudes between various U.S. minorities, e.g., Latinos disparaging blacks and vise-versa, blacks disparaging Asians, the widespread prejudice against Middle-Easterners and rising Anti-Semitism. How does one make progress in light of these negative trends? Perhaps millennials will do a better job than Baby-Boomers have in reducing racism but I’m from Missouri on that score. Best wishes on your project.
Marines are different shades of green.
Bruno,
San Diego, CA.
Senior Drill Instructor on race relations in the United States Marine Corps.
Born Wright, I’m a bridge builder
David B. Wright,
San Diego, CA
I believe my parents raised me to believe that there was only one race and we all belonged to it. I have striven to live up to that and still need to improve. I am a Wright which means Builder and I am constantly trying to build the bridges of community inclusion and love.
Haole is a very racist word.
Theresa Nakata,
San Diego,CA
Growing up a “haole” girl in rural Kona, Hawaii, every school year I was bullied for the color of my white skin and the shape of my nose. As I got older and experienced other cultures, the personal shame and pain I felt about being white in Hawaii was replaced with understanding and joy from living in the islands — a melting pot of culture where diversity is ultimately celebrated and valued.
White Male, Not Straight, Still Privileged.
Mark Stuart,
San Diego, CA
While I hid my homosexuality for 1/2 my life, I was regularly bullied through high school for being different. But no one ever called 911 on me for bird watching or leveled a shotgun at me for jogging through a neighborhood.
I see my privilege and efforts.
Margaret Noble,
San Diego, CA
We are sorting this difficult work out as educators at my high school. Mostly I feel shame for my whiteness and access. But I am more than this identity – I am working hard at growing, serving others, and see the world as it is around me.
Your agenda doesn’t trump mine, Stop!
Native of San Diego,
San Diego, CA
Yes I was born having blond hair and blue eyes, yes I was born here in America. That’s where it stops. My family was poor and we Never had things handed to us. We literally had a field in our backyard where
we grew our own food and raised our animals, and yes we ate the animals we raised for food. Absolutely Nothing was easy! I’m sick to death about people attacking my white heritage. Me and my children who are white also have been treated like heathens just due to skin, and being strait. It’s gone so far in the opposite direction it’s abuse to them and me. If I say be proud of who you are and do your best, I’m a terrible person and must be racist. No I’m not and neither are they. I shouldn’t have to constantly defend myself for being who I AM. A white person in America with conservative values. Stop attacking me and my family line out of blind racist ignorant mob mentality acts of hatred. You treat me and mine like I did you wrong personally. Stop slinging your nasty hatred all over everyone just because they’re white and straight! Back off with all that “pride” like only your cause matters, we all have pride in who we are and want our children to have a sense of pride as well. I do not apologize for who I am or where I came from. We owned no one, we killed no one in wars in our direct family line. So STOP Being Racist to us. Stop trying to diminish our existence! We have the right to freedom of speech also and I say I am glad I am white and straight. Stop telling me I’m wrong for being who I AM!
