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“Hey, Geisha Girl!” What? Who, me?

Jennifer Luberecki
Hagerstown, MD

Being Korean-born and adopted at 3 by Caucasian parents, I grew up with my adopted parents culture (which is Polish and Scottish) and feel thoroughly American. Which is why it feels like a shock, and sometimes a slap in the face, when other people make assumptions about who I am. The Geisha Girl call was made when I was walking alone in a hallway at high school, and someone opened up the door at one end and shouted this at me. I wasn’t wearing my glasses at the time and I couldn’t see who made yelled to me. There were many times growing up where people would ask me, “Where am you from” or “Where did you grow up?” and it took me a while to realize that my answer of “New York” or “Massachusetts” was not the answer they were looking for. I’ve been asked why I don’t have an accent. Um, because I’ve been speaking English since I’ve been 3?

Someone made a comment on Facebook once about people who were born in American being the only legal citizens here. I pointed out that I’ve been a naturalized citizen since 5 and America is the only country I know and remember. She quickly explained she meant “illegal immigrants” but I responded that being born in the US is NOT the only way to be a US citizen.

Apparently, I’m Jesus, or a terrorist.

Race-Card-PHOTOJohn Abraham,
Grand Rapids, MI.

Thanks to my Italian and Lebanese heritage, I am blessed to say I have a fairly full beard and curly brown hair. However, these two attributes have granted me two common nicknames: “Jesus” or “Terrorist”. I suppose I look like many modern-day depictions of Jesus and when I’m referred to as a terrorist, I’m sure people don’t actually intend to offend me. But, sometimes we need to take a step back and truly think about the implications behind our words. Jesus and a terrorist are two very different people…

Am I too White to Help?

Olivia Loesch,
SHAKOPEE, MN.

I always feel bad when I am trying to work at Target and go through my day when I see someone being racial to a guest. I try to step in but typically the white person makes me help them instead. I want to help all of those around me in the end, but am I too white to help those who need it?

So, did you all eat tacos?

Hilary Salazar,
McAllen, TX.

I attended a middle school with only seven Hispanics/Latinos. One day during 2nd period, the librarian called all seven of us over the intercom to come to the library. I had no idea why, but everyone laughed as I walked out of class. I got to the library along with the other students to find out the librarian had ordered the very first set of Spanish books. She wanted a picture of the seven of us pretending to read them for a picture to put up in the hallway. I let her know that I didn’t know how to read in Spanish, and she ignored me and snapped a photo anyway. Walking back to class, I felt wronged but couldn’t process my feelings. When I got back to class, the first question I was asked was, “So did you all eat tacos?” Those would be the beginning of a long process for me to sort out the feelings I had about my heritage. As a middle-schooler in a school where I wasn’t noticed for my academic achievements, but rather for my skin tone, being Hispanic was difficult. As an adult, being Hispanic is something I am proud of.

Wow, I can’t believe you’re black!

IMG_3731Kelsi Evans,
Williamsburg, VA.

Growing up in society I have always been questioned about my race. I come from two very, very light-skinned African-American parents, so therefore I am very light, have soft curly “white people” hair, and don’t necessarily “talk black”. Being this kind of person draws attention to myself because people always make a big deal out of how I “don’t fit the typical stereotypes of a black person”. I am constantly trying to change that image and stereotype for the better every single day.

Is this all on one check?

Mary Henry
Oxford, OH

I am white, my husband is black, our daughter is biracial. If I’m out with just my husband or just my teenaged daughter, wait staff usually ask if our order is on one check, suggesting they don’t realize that we’re related (my daughter is not very dark-skinned, but looks more like my husband’s side of the family) or married (people still don’t expect interracial couples, I guess).

German, Irish, Italian. Still Classified White

Nicole Miller
Highland, CA

Because I am German, does that Make me a Nazi??? Why do I always have to be related to Hitler??? People are cruel. Regardless of whether they know they are being cruel or not… I catch myself judging by race sometimes. I don’t mean to do it but the stereotypes are so in your face these days that it is hard to not have them pop up in your head when you see something happen. Asian women can’t drive, black people love watermelon (I love watermelon and I am white!), German people must be related to Hitler and are therefore communists and hate Jewish people etc… It is annoying and ridiculous to classify people this way because of the color of their skin…

I’m educated; doesn’t mean I’m white.

Adja Toure
Annandale, VA

Not a day goes by without at least one schoolmate telling me I’m white. But only on half of these occasions do I defend myself. My parents are not American, so my upbringing is quite different than that of other black students I am acquainted with. As an advanced student, I have been in classes where I am the minority. My education and my race shouldn’t be intertwined, yet people seem so surprised when I act myself, which isn’t like a stereotypical African American teenage girl. My friends are mostly white, and seem to think that I am too, despite the physical contradiction that is my skin. I find their mindset unfair; basically they’re saying that in order to be smart, I must be white. On the flipside, my colored friends – not just black- think I am “whitewashed” as well. All of it is difficult to handle sometimes because I’m not always taken seriously, or people call me offensive names. But it’s not just me who is getting hurt; the minorities who associate me with white people are degrading themselves by unknowingly claiming to be inferior. I try to explain that my intelligence has nothing to do with how I look on the inside, but in the end, I continually laugh it off and proceed to be the “whitest black person” in my grade.

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