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Your words don’t change who I am

IMG_20140729_092745Blake Coffey,
Van Nuys, CA.

In a world where being mixed is supposed to be looked at as beautiful, it’s not as easy when you are. People automatically assume that all mixed people are supposed to look mixed just like they assume all Mexicans are brown. I’m born to a mixed black/white father who looks full black and society deems him so, and a white mother. I’ve looked for people that are the same thing or mixed but not looked at as mixed but I’ve always felt left out. I don’t look at people as a certain race but they sure look at me like I am. I’m judged and denied of who I am because genetics determined that I wouldn’t come out looking mixed. Although I’ve faced racism from every race.

Today is the day when I fully accept myself for who I am. I’m not denying myself or anyone else of who I truly am. I am not Mexican, I am not Middle Eastern, I am not Puerto Rican or whatever else I’ve told people. It’s time for me to not only come to terms with who I am but to come to terms with the world and how it is. To stop shielding myself and hiding behind fake back stories because of peoples judgments and words. It doesn’t matter if I had brown eyes, blue eyes, black kinky hair, blonde straight hair, a bump on my nose, big lips, high cheek bones, dark skin, light skin, because I am what I am and I can’t change it. People can make whatever assumptions they want or say whatever but that doesn’t change who I am ethnically.

I wanted to change who I am ethnically my entire life. But I can’t. It’s time to stop lying and just be honest. Whether or not I’m accepted by the black community or even the biracial and multiracial community, I am a multiracial person of African and European heritage. My dad looks full black and my mom looks white as snow, yet my sisters and I came out with light carmel skin tones, different hair types, colored eyes, and unique facial features that make us look completely different from anyone else in our family. Whether someone tries to portrait me as white or Mexican or something else that I’m not is not my problem. I can’t change it and your words or judgments isn’t going to change anything either. It’s not your place to determine who or what I am. I am a person of mixed race. That’s just what I am.

You’re too white to be black

AlyssaAlyssa Swearingen,
Norfolk, VA.

I come from parents who are different races. I have a mother who is white, and a father who is black. All my life, I get told “You don’t look black,” or I get asked if “I’m sure I am HALF black.” I’ve been told numerous times that I look like I’m only white. As a young girl, this discouraged me. I started off fighting it. I would argue with everyone and try my best to prove my race. However, as time went on, I began to fight less. I began to just hold my tongue. It was so much easier to let people think what they wanted, and say what they wanted. Now as a woman, I am starting to get my fight back. I refuse to hide a part of who I am.

I pass. What is my place?

jlwJennifer Ward,
Denver, CO.

As discussions have proliferated in Denver and online about race, the Black Lives Matter movement, and how change should be implemented, one idea that has been reiterated is that white people’s place is to support, while black people’s place is to lead and direct. I understand that, but where does that leave me – the white-looking daughter of a white mother and black father, who has never directly faced discrimination based on skin color but has certainly felt the repercussions in her family life and beyond?

We experience, we teach, we grow.

Eli Russell,
Austin, TX.

As a writer, these six words are something I’ve said before. I lend it here to hopefully add to the growing conversation, to close the divide in the races, to open racist minds and to unite all Americans, all people across the world in peace. It is up to each generation to take our experiences, teach our children the history and where they come from, so that future generations can learn from our mistakes and do better. We must do these things for a better future for our children and their children. There need never be another Charleston. There need never be another Ferguson. It is imperative to keep the conversation going to keep the past from repeating itself. There’s another 6 words. “History doesn’t have to repeat itself.” It’s so hard for me to watch all the news coverage on these racially divided and chaotic events. Not just because it is so painful, because it is. It’s so profoundly, soul-shatteringly heartbreaking. But it’s hard for me to watch because it’s uncomfortable. As a half Caucasian, half black woman who grew up in rural Texas, living with my white mother and my father out of the picture, “Black” history didn’t exist yet. This was in the 1990’s. There was only one type of history and black people had nothing to do with it after the abolishment of slavery. Or so I thought.

I still remember the first day I met the other black child who started coming to or school. It was like a starring contest. (We weren’t the right color to be friends with the white kids and we couldn’t speak Spanish so we were even shunned by the Hispanic children, who were also discriminated against, but could take solace in the insular nature of their culture and feel better about themselves by excluding me, and now “Tyson”.) We couldn’t believe our eyes. We were no longer alone in that predominantly white school. The same predominantly white school where my 1st grade teacher slapped me across the face and screamed the ‘N’ word at me. The only black history I was taught was passed to me from my Caucasian mother. But she couldn’t give me exact dates, all the battles fight and won on behalf of The Civil Rights Movement. Even if I did think my mother was the smartest person in the world and had all the answers when I was six years old, it turns out she didn’t. This is why it’s so important to me to learn what I should have learned about my heritage and history. I want to add that to what I experience in my life, to teach my children and their children so that future generations don’t have to live through the past repeating itself. They can learn from our mistakes and actively help to grow our society. My partner Scott (who is British and Caucasian) are both very much human rights advocates and activists. We want to teach our children to question everything, to live life with a purpose and to love all of humanity as though they were blood relatives. So six words- “We experience, we teach, we grow.”

Uppity white mother, shut your mouth

Kristen Hartke
Washington, DC

I have been a DC public school parent for 14 years, and my daughter is about to graduate from high school. She has always attended schools that were at least 80% African-American with about 30% of the students in the free lunch program. I have been a longtime volunteer, working particularly hard on fundraising efforts, often to meet the most basic classroom needs. However, I have also experienced consistent discrimination from some teachers and administrators – including racial slurs – when I have asked even the simplest questions (like “Will there be any books assigned for reading in class?”). It has meant that I have finally become completely disengaged in my daughter’s senior year – I am simply exhausted from so many years of having to defend myself for wanting the schools to be, at the very least, adequate. I do not know a white parent who has not felt they had to be extraordinarily careful in asking any questions for fear of being labeled a “crazy white parent”, nor a black parent asking similar questions who was not labeled as “acting like a white parent”. I fear that DCP, and many school systems, will never be able to provide excellence in education if there is no willingness to treat parents of all races with real respect and engage them in the life of the school. It is parents who can make the difference by bringing their enthusiasm and support to school with their children.

Bi-racial means you are nobody’s baby.

Silvija Singh,
Pittsburgh, PA.

Unlike my sibs, I do not look white, altho I have a white mother. I do not get treated like a Latvian, the way the blond-haired blue-eyed cousins on this side of the family do. Complexion-wise, I look more like my father, who was from India. But among Indians, I am also ‘not Indian enough’ or not the right type of Indian…. This in-betweenness can be isolating, but it has also allowed my a unique perspective. I believe my thinking has, of necessity, evolved to be less ‘group-bound’.

White mother of adopted Bolivian son

Nancy Rawn
Storrs, CT

I have been so proud of my beautiful boy for all of his 20 years. He struggled with so many high school identity issues but it has been especially painful to watch him struggle with the big question of “Who am I?” in this white community and white family. He has taken an alternate path which has led to reckless decisions and several arrests. We have accepted the harsh reality that showing up at court is essential- our race, his father’s and mine, effects his court outcomes. I am white but I live the reality of every mother of a brown son who wishes the world was more color blind and accepting of her child for exactly who they are.

Invisible white mother feels demographic betrayal

Amy Chai
New Haven, CT

I am “white.” I am not European-American, I do not have permission to honor my heritage with a hyphen. I am simply a member of the melanin challenged group that bears collective blame for something that some British, African, and Arab people did a few hundred years ago. It doesn’t matter that I am Scandinavian, with no British, African, or Arab blood at all.

I am also the mother of “mixed race” (AKA HUMAN) children. My child was sitting in a group of Asian girls, and they told her that she could “pass” and did not have to admit to having white blood. They encouraged her to deny me. I am not the only white mother to feel this type of pain–the pain that comes from knowing that your “whiteness” is something that stains your child’s PC potential in this screwed up society in which we live.
I recall feeling happy because Obama was biracial. I didn’t vote for him, but I couldn’t help liking the fact that he came from a family like mine. That was before the 2010 census came out. In the census, although he had the opportunity to affirm his mixed heritage, he decided to mark, “African-American” only on his form. He got to celebrate, hyphenate, and dance on his mother’s grave. After the moment I heard about Obama’s census, I hated him. I hated him on behalf of his mother, who is dead but even if she were alive she would never have the heart to hate him for his betrayal. She would probably even understand why he did it, and maybe even say that it was the right thing to do. White mothers are supposed to be invisible, and be ashamed.

The definition of racism: Making someone feel ashamed because of who they are on the basis of race. Anyone who feels ashamed of being white is a victim of racism. Never apologize for who you are.

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