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Disabled Veteran: Caucasians only see Latina.

Ingrid Ponce,
Orange Park, FL

In the years of his (Mr. Trump) first Presidency term:

A white man mocked, harassed and tried to run over me with his huge truck in a Florida gas station. His hostility towards me stopped only when a young Asian man at the gas station called his attention and told him to stop.

A caucasian woman sped-up and tried to run over me with her antique sedan in a California shopping parking lot.

They only see a short Latina: they do not know that I am a disabled veteran who stayed for 20 years in the military. They do not know that I sacrificed my mind, my memories, my happy self, and that I now live trapped in constant fear with nightmares, and see and hear things that are not there (that I live with PTSD) after my tour in a war zone. They do not know that I would do it again (enlist in the Military) because I love The United States, that I would sacrifice myself, for their peaceful existence, for their family, for their freedom.

I am not a MAIL-IN-BRIDE

Kristal Vanessa Baradi,
Milpitas, CA

…or Domestic Helper. I am a Filipino- American, I was born in Hawaii. My husband is white, we meet in the Army (yes, I served for 8 years Active Duty). Everywhere we go people ask me where I was from of how long did it take for my husband to petition me or people will joke around and say ” I will call ICE on you” or ” is this your first time in America?”

My tastebuds tell me I’m Japanese

Ka’Olu,
Los Osos, CA

I’m a “third culture kid” raised in Southern California by expat Japanese parents. We were repatriated when I was a teenager, then I moved back to California in my late 40’s. In Japan, I felt I was not really Japanese, but in the US, I don’t really feel American. Because I don’t have an Asian accent, people (like my Anglo-American husband’s family) seem to think I am just like them. I’m not. My food preferences are definitely Japanese! This recent photo makes me laugh. Camping is such an American pastime, but here I am with my chopsticks! I always travel with them, along with bags of rice and little packets of soy sauce.

I carry hope through young musicians

Image-3Virginia Jones,
Danville, VA.

I’m a 54 year old white lady living back in the south after 15 years away from home. Its not the same everywhere. I’ve been an RN in central Phoenix, a wife of a Vietnam Veteran who was terribly discriminated by his own country and I’m a mother of a blonde haired blue eyed 28 year old female musician thats lived a little LA and now lives in Brooklyn. Her house reflects very determined strong women and men of all shapes, colors, backgrounds and musical interests; they intertwine theirs hearts, their talents and their respect for each other and their races. I am proudly all of their mothers at times and I love them all with all the protection and realness I can give them. America do the same for your young people! Listen … and they can now teach us something … about freedom. Listen to the music they are making together and feel the times turn. Believe in our kids!

Don’t Bring Home No White Girls

Anonymous,
TX.

Said a well travelled Black American female veteran to her biracial, trilingual, and dual citizen son. Behind her, in full agreement, stood her Eastern European Jewish husband. As madly in love as was at first sight, their relationship was taboo, condemned by family and friends alike. Now years later they faced their resultant son, looked in his light colored eyes and set him right. If he didn’t want any trouble and to keep his future bright, keep all White women out of sight! They only had their son’s best interests in mind, because both had known Black and Mulatto young men who had thrown their lives away by chasing after White American women that then uttered the dreaded 4 letter word….Rape.

In turn he smiled at them amusedly, took a few clumsy steps forward on his long skinny chicken legs, exactly like those of his towering father, and bent, though not too far because his mother was also quite tall, to plant a kiss on her round ebony cheek. In his low deep voice as he pushes his thick glasses back up on his face he says, “Why would I chase a ghost, when I have had the epitome of beauty before my eyes for nearly 23 years?” As he had done as small boy, when people thought this gorgeous Nubian Goddess who was closer to 50 than 40 but was often accused of being only 30 was merely his nanny, the son holds his mother’s face in hands and stares at her adoringly. “I learned how to appreciate real beauty young.” Then he smiles bashfully at his father and concludes, “Apuci(Daddy), I am going to get one of these fine models for myself. Where should I look?” It was very clear that though the well-brought up young man respected all women, his heart would ALWAYS belong to a fiery,gorgeous, and loyal ‘Sistah’.

“Good Morning!” But there’s no response.

Clyde Jasper
Oakland, CA

I’m a tall black man with dreadlocks. I’m a husband and a father. I’m a property owner, and a taxpayer. I’m a veteran. I vote. I graduated Phi Beta Kappa from a world class university in Berkeley, CA. In passing, I many times acknowledge a white persons presence and humanity with a “Good Morning” and they look at me but don’t respond.

My tastebuds tell me I’m Japanese

Ka’Olu,
Los Osos, CA

I’m a “third culture kid” raised in Southern California by expat Japanese parents. We were repatriated when I was a teenager, then I moved back to California in my late 40’s. In Japan, I felt I was not really Japanese, but in the US, I don’t really feel American. Because I don’t have an Asian accent, people (like my Anglo-American husband’s family) seem to think I am just like them. I’m not. My food preferences are definitely Japanese! This recent photo makes me laugh. Camping is such an American pastime, but here I am with my chopsticks! I always travel with them, along with bags of rice and little packets of soy sauce.

Why we hafta be “Afro” Anything?

Walter T. Pearson,
Jacksonville, FL.

I’m a black man, of many various ethnicities, Fifth American generation, from a family of military veterans,including my children who are currently serving in the Afghanistan region wars. I have no relatives from Africa (that I know of),so I wonder WHY must anyone that is not white, have to be addressed as “African-Americans”….My family and I are clearly American born, but just like “Asian-Americans,Latin-Americans,Polish-Americans,Japanese-Americans….” and so on… we have to pick a specific identification….I was born HERE, not in Africa, and no longer will be addressed with an “add-on” title.

I’m filling in my blind spots.

William Bullard,
Bristol, RI

I grew up in mostly white communities and joined and retired after 30 years from a U.S. Navy Officer Corps that still largely looks like me and reflects my life experience as a white male. It almost goes without saying that I have never experienced discrimination or marginalization because of who or what I am. It was easy and comfortable for me to believe as long as I was fair to all and upheld well-intentioned (and required) policies preventing racial discrimination that I was doing enough. In reality, all I did was give myself permission to succeed in an organization where I felt no pressure to be anything other than what I am while not considering any of my fellow Sailors who felt that pressure.

I’m grateful to the Black woman and fellow officer who made me aware of this “blind spot” in the months before I retired; I am correcting my vision as a chart my new course in life.

Veteran Patriot Still White Washed Wetback

FB_IMG_1451301720754Michael Morentin,
Los Angeles, CA.

Growing up a third generation Mexican-American I find myself walking America as a 30 year old Marine Corps veteran and recent college graduate whom is too brown for those around me who are white, and not brown enough for those around me of hispanic heritage. Being third generation Mexican-American the Spanish language remains out of my reach. I find myself understanding vaguely the language but do not currently have the able to carry a conversation. This is a difficult situation for me because all my life it seems I am looked down upon by those of my own ethnicity for not speaking the language, and looked down about by those who are Caucasian for being too ethnic.It was in within the my service from 2004-2009 what i found myself surounded by people who were from all walks of life and generally accepted our differences and excercised tolerance of those different. A true brotherhood was gained and it was my service that only truly makes me feel American.I have gained pride through service and still see and hear the snickering from those who believe i am “white-washed” and those that believe I’m generally automatically a “landscaping expert or day worker”.

Disabled Combat veterans also face discrimination

Stan Lightner,
Elyria, OH.

As a disabled combat vet I have been a target of discrimination on numerous occasions by “Christian” conservatives. Imagine how it feels to be called lazy, welfare queen, worth less than an Iraq POW just for starters. BTW I have an earned doctorate in Occupational & Adult Education from Oklahoma State University.

I am a mutt and proud.

Kyria Rezner,
Cocoa, FL

I was raised in a diverse family believing everyone is equal. When I entered the real world, it disgusted me. I was saddened over the way people learned to label themselves.
“I’m Italian.”
“I am German.”
“My family is Irish.”

The one that effected me most however was one that would have my African grandmother rolling in her grave.
“You should respect me more. I’m black, your kind enslaved mine.”

That comment, on that seems so petty now, caused me to start writing down every comment I heard based on race. I currently have four full journals and am working on a fifth.

My grandfather was the first to speak of the horrors of discrimination. As a World War II veteran, he told me of the things he saw. He told me of the horrors seen in concentration camps, the looks of those they came to save, and the battles he fought.

“There are no colors, no religious boundaries, not truly. Because, at the end of the day, everyone bleeds red.” –Grandfather William

I tell those who ask me my race and/or my religion, “I’m American, does anything else matter?”

American Veteran College Graduate Still Black

Rosie Montgomery-Mostella,
Gadsden, AL

I live in Alabama and much as l likes to think things have changed some stereotypes remain the same.
I was standing in line waiting to use an ATM machine and the woman in front of me, was so nervous and fidgety she dropped her belongs twice. I would like to think that she was in a hurry or had other things going on but the glances I received from her makes me think differently. She retrieved her money and RAN to her car.

PS, I am also a woman.

You know why they chose you?

SCAN0013Alan Smith,
Angier, NC.

This was said to me by an instructor, as an 18-year old US Navy sailor, having just completed submarine training in Groton, CT in 1978. I graduated 14th of 98 in my class, and was presented with an award for excellence by the Eastern Connecticut Council Navy League of the US. This slight woke me up to attitudes that are still prevalent today.

We’re one people on one planet.

Jedd Birkner,
Torrance, CA.

Race is a social construct. Prejudice is a way of expressing ignorance and fear. Senseless hatred is passed from generation to generation. I pray that the people in my country with hatred in their hearts for those they perceive as “the other” become a smaller and smaller minority with each generation. I grew up in a lily white suburb in the 1960’s. Race was something we saw on TV. I neighbor told me a racist joke once when I was around 5 years old. I repeated it to my father, a WWII vet. He told me in no uncertain terms that the language and sentiment I was repeating was not tolerated in our house. I am grateful to my father for that lesson. In my village there were two groups of blacks: the Jones family and the sons of the Nigerian ambassadors. I considered them blacks but I was on a first name basis with five of the six (the oldest Jones brother was an upper classman and, accordingly, I didn’t rate to be in his social group). I am grateful to live in California now in a diverse community. The differences make life interesting, learning about a bigger world. It pisses me off that so many people can be to ignorant and hateful still. Move on, idiots.

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