I am still an American citizen.
Yousuf Khan,
Potomac, MD.
I was born and raised in Springfield, VA before moving to Maryland. When you ask me where I’m from, expect me to proudly say Virginia.
I never think of you as Asian.
Virginia,
Cambridge, MA.
I’m half Filipina. And I’ve always thought of myself as half. But one day at a faculty meeting a colleague told me I “passed” as white. It’s bothered me ever since.
I don’t fit in “your” box.
I grew up “out of the box”.
Box 1: I grew up in Ithaca, NY.
Box 2: I lived in a small neighborhood five miles from the center of the city. We lived in a modest size house on a quarter acre lot. There were 5 house and one trailer on my part of the street. The largest house, split level home, with a basement, grapes for wine, and a 2 car garage (the only one on the street), was owned by a Black family. The granddaughters were our playmates, and my older sister and I loved it when they would visit; we finally had children to play with, and they were our age.
Box 3: At home I was raised by my Puerto Rican mother and White father. In the 80’s assimilation was key. As far as we knew, we were 100% White. Our loud mother ruled the house. We ate chicken and rice, with red/pink beans and potatoes. Our standard seasoning: Adobo.
Box 4: For Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve we would visit with my mom’s family. My cousins, were two Black girls, but to us, they were just our cousins.
Box 5: When I was finally old enough to go to school my Principal was Mr. Ouckama, an extraordinary Black man.
So this box I’m always taught about, the one where Black people need to be saved, the one where Black people need to be educated, the one where Black people need White people, is not my box. The base of my childhood was surrounded by great people, that indirectly taught me a lot about tolerance and justice by simply being themselves.
I’m Hispanic, stop thinking I’m White
Leslya Chavez,
Houston, TX
Born and raised on the East coast of Virginia, though was raised in a Hispanic household. Grew up only Spanish till I was placed in Kindergarten and had to teach myself English. Coming from a Hispanic background where Spanish is your main language at home and then your second language is English, even though I was born in America. I still had to make sure my culture continued to grow within me. It got to a point where I became fluent in both languages and even people in the Hispanic/ Latinx Community would see me as a White girl. Just because I’m light-complected and don’t have the features of a Hispanic person. Deep down it breaks my heart when I have people or simply patients that have difficulty getting around their daily lives and I encounter them struggling to try to explain to those around them that they need help looking for something. And when I see them struggling I do the best of my ability to guide them in the direction they are needing. The face of relief they give me when I ask them if they need help in Spanish fulfills my heart each time. Though, it’s saddening that even within my culture I’m just seen as a helpless white girl that doesn’t know Spanish at all. And it shouldn’t be viewed that way, or even simply looking around for someone that is tan or darker complexed and ask them for help. Therefore they should at least build the courage to ask if someone around speaks Spanish and if they could be of their assistance.
We thought you didn’t speak English.
Gabriela Denise Frank,
Seattle, WA.
Despite being a Detroit native who grew up in Arizona, I was mostly surrounded by white kids like me during my childhood. Though my family is Jewish, I never experienced discrimination while living in predominately Christian communities. Even as an adult in Seattle, which is more ethnically diverse, I live in a middle class Caucasian world. It wasn’t until I visited Italy that someone helped me glimpse the other side of the race card.
The two couples were white, and they were from Virginia. They mistakenly assumed that I was an uneducated local maid because my beginning Italian was better than their attempts at the language. In 15 years of owning a home in a tiny hill town, they had never bothered to learn more than a word or two of Italian. When I greeted them with, “Buon giorno,” they smiled nervously and brushed past me. In the garden, they turned their backs to me, closing ranks so that I couldn’t sit with them, so I sat on the ground as they spoke over my head to our host. It took a while for me to realize that none of them met my eyes because, to them, I wasn’t there.
The oven buzzer went off, signaling that their welcome lunch was ready, a meal that I had helped our host cook. “Come on in – lunch is served!” I called. They froze. “Are you… American?” they asked, aghast. “Yes,” I smiled. “I live in Seattle.” One of the wives paled.
“We ignored you because we thought you didn’t speak English,” she admitted, like this excused their slight. The minute of outrage I experienced made me see that I could never know the discrimination that others face for their entire lives. For what it’s worth, I’ll never forget the lesson.
America needs an anti-racism czar
Ellen McGrath Rozsa,
Lakeside, VA
I think we need an anti-discrimination czar at the federal level to force a national discussion in America about confronting our history of racism. I nominate Barack H. Obama. Racism permeates every level of our society and we will never really overcome this handicap if the majority of whites refuse to even admit it’s still a problem. If it matters, I am a white Baby Boomer raised in a mostly white, working-class, Catholic environment outside NYC. Some of the places I’ve worked have been multicultural, but the neighborhoods I’ve lived in, the churches I’ve attended and my circle of friends are predominantly white, like me. I was not raised with what I would call “active racism” in my family of origin: we didn’t hear or use the “n” word, I didn’t hear anyone express hatred or the wish to harm non-whites, but we were uncomfortable in our interactions because we didn’t know any black people, really. I grew up in the 60s and 70s worrying that black people didn’t like us.
Small things can make BIG differences
Althea McMillian,
Chesapeake, VA
At the end of each day, I reflect back on the days events. I am constantly amazed at how on many days, the smallest actions (quick conversations, greetings, smiles, kind/rude acts by other etc.) seem to have the biggest impact on my day.
#URTRCP #TheRaceCardProject
Why don’t we all love diversity?
Hilary Appleton,
Richmond, VA
I am fascinated by people–who they are, where they came from, and the story of how they got to where they are today. I’m interested in people who share my story, but I’m even more interested in those who have a completely different story. To me, commonalities are nice and even comforting, but the differences are so exciting! I always want to know what it’s like to live another life, to view the world in a different way, to experience different successes and struggles, and to follow different social customs or cultural traditions. This passion for examining diverse human stories is what led me to study acting in college, and what drew me to work in higher education–a setting in which learning, growth, and discourse are at the heart of the mission. Diversity among humans makes the story so much more interesting, so it’s hard for me to understand why not everyone feels that way.
<strong>#URTRCP </strong><strong>#TheRaceCardProject</strong>
Coexist, acceptance, peace. Open your heart.
Andrea Zinski,
Richmond, VA
Are we really that different? No, we are very much alike – on the inside.
There are many levels to hate and, yes, racism is very much still a thing. The current political climate here in America and all over the world has attempted to legitimize those who still think that to be White, to be Christian, to be Straight is superior/chosen/preferred over peace, love and acceptance of our differences.
We all need to work on making our “in-groups” larger and more inclusive. We need to open our hearts and our minds and be curious enough to learn more about other cultures and ethnicities. Be the change within your own circle, and others will follow.
White guilt defines my life relentlessly.
Virginia Berthy
I come from the combination of an old Alabama-Mississippi family and an old Virginia Family. I do not to my knowledge have an ancestor that did not own slaves before it was outlawed. I am told in back rooms of random family discussion that my great-great-great grandfather was the first white sheriff of Bolliver Co. Mississippi after reconstruction, and that he was the Grand Dragon of the original, pre-reconstruction KKK. How does one bear this?
I was groomed for a life in the white upper class but fled overseas for nearly a decade in order to be able to define my own life. Now I am back, trying to define my relationship to my community and my country and to raise my children to be healers and bridge builders.
I live my life in the spirit of restitution, but often ask myself what I really have to offer.
White flight and racism trump integration.
Robert Robillard
Roanoke, VA
I teach at a white flight private school that now aims to be diverse. Another element that must be as true in Tuscaloosa as it is in Roanoke or Richmond, is that black families who have the means (not just money but social capital), frequently get their best and brightest into successful county schools or private schools. This brain drain from the city school districts adds another challenge to improving test scores. Educating all of our students well is the most important problem we face as a society.
