Famous Mixed People

As an athlete (sorta) and a mixed chick, Friday was a pretty exciting for me.

First, thanks to my cousin, I got to spend the day at the USA Track & Field Outdoor Championships. It was a who's who of runners - Alison Felix, Lolo Jones, Sonya Richards Ross, Bernard Lagat, Wallace Spearmon, etc. etc. I'm a former long-distance runner and general geek around athleticism (which is very different from being a woman who tries to date athletes), so it was an overwhelmingly good day.

At the end of it, my cousin introduced me to Dan O'Brien, decathlete and 1996 Olympic gold medalist. Super nice guy, on top of being a super athlete. We took a photo, had a quick chat, and kept it moving. Of course, I posted the photo on Facebook. A friend commented that we look alike, which brought memories crashing back from the lead up to the '92 Olympics and during '96. I had forgotten that, back then, I often wondered if Dan O'Brien is, like me, a mixed kid.

Twenty years ago, there was no Google to easily answer these kinds of questions and so, as the summer games faded, so did my curiosity. But my friend's comment brought it back. After a few minutes on the WWW, I'm happy to add another talented person to my list of famous bi-racial people. Welcome, Dan O'Brien!

Do Dan and I look related?

Racial Progress, Measured in Advertising

Thinking about racism, advertising and social media
When I was a kid, my dad used to say, "You'll know we've been accepted when Blacks are in deodorant commercials." If you're younger than 20, that might sound crazy but seriously, Black folks used to be restricted to very limited commercial situations. We ate fast food, we bought American cars, we played sports, we cleaned and did laundry. We never traveled, cleaned ourselves, had sex, ate health food or got to be in the front of a group of people if the other people were White.

Today, Black folks are every where. And yet, my dad and I agree, it doesn't feel like we've completely made it. My new measure for racial equality and triumph over ignorance is when brands can air commercials like Cheerios', showing a mixed family doing regular stuff, and Coca-Cola's Super Bowl ad, showing Americans as multi-cultural, -colorful and -lingual, and nobody says a negative word on Twitter, Facebook or whatever social media channel is popular in that not-too-far-off future.

Money talks. When big brands are spending big cash on all Americans, you know that change is a'comin'.

And, just because I'm lovin' this dude like he's my own son, here's a little glimpse of today's Black teens: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W6nLAaVeRjQ

Pictures of Mixed Families

Call me a hypocrite but I love looking at mixed people but hate being stared at. Which is why I'm kinda lovin' this site: http://wearethe15percent.com/.

It's gawking at it's best. I get to look at other mixed people and their parents and no one has to feel awkward. In fact, these people shared their photos, so even if they caught me looking, they can't be mad. Win-win!

My only question is the site name. Do mixed families make up 15% of all families in the U.S.? That's bananas! American, ya gotta love it.

Challah! at Drake

I forget that Drake is part of so many tribes - Jewish and Black are highlighted in this Bar Mitzvah rap from the Jan 18 Saturday Night Live.

Slow start, but the rap rhyming Lenny Kravitz and Manischewitz cracked me up.

However, it seemed really outmoded of him to divide up his abilities based on his racial background. Like, saying he knows how to play basketball like LeBron AND can fill out a W-2, implying Black folks are less economically functional.

I guess what I'm really saying is, Drake seems too smart for a dumb joke that perpetuates racism and a bias toward mixed people. Up your comedy game, son!

Where in Africa is your dad from?

One of the great things about international travel is the opportunity to experience new perspectives. For example, in Morocco, being a biracial American was hard to explain. Consider:

1. Morocco is in Africa, where almost everyone is some shade of brown. When asked, "What's your background?" answering, "My dad is Black," is meaningless. They could easily respond, "So is mine, so...?"
2. Many people in far away countries have a specific idea of what American looks like. My light brown skin, freckles, big brown eyes and dark brown hair do not meet the definition of American. I further confuse by not wearing running shoes and shorts (yep; American women are pretty much the only ones in the world who combine these two items, making it easy to tell they're American).
3. In the US, we divide and commune based on things like race, gender, sexual preference or socioeconomics. Abroad, they connect or separate based on where they are from. So, when trying to connect with me, the Moroccans wanted to know from where my family originates. My mom's family is from England. Ok, good, they get that. And my dad is Black. See bullet 1 and you can see how this conversation started to sound like Abbott and Costello.

Africans know we had slavery. They don't realize how it decimated our connection to Africa. To them, not knowing where your ancestors are from is an indescribable loss. Maybe it is to us too, and we just don't fully realize it.

Daughter of the American Revolution & Slave

If you followed the two sides of my family tree up, up, up to about 160 years ago, here's what you'd find:

On one side, the women were Daughters of the American Revolution. My mother's family - the Coxes - can trace itself back all the way to Bishop Richard Cox of Ely Cathedral in England in the 1500s. After a stop in Ireland in the 1600s, ye olde ancestors finally made it to Virginia in the 1700s. My mother's dad, Granpa Charlie as we knew him, was a Son of the American Revolution. I guess it's not surprising that he temporarily cut my mom off when she married a Black guy. What would the Bishop say?!

On the other side, we've got Billy, the slave. Billy escaped. I don't say he ran away because that sounds cowardly and condemn-able. He escaped, which seems like the smart thing to do when conditions are a lifetime of "12 Years a Slave." Anyway, Billy made his way to Canada, married a nice French-Canadian girl and started a family line where twins and freckles pop up every other generation. Blame Canada.

Many, many generations later, the Bishop and Billy met, in the form of my parents, Sarah and Spencer.

Bishop Cox rocks 16th-century shoulder pads

My great-grandfather, grandfather and dad (the baby) on the family farm

So what do you get when you combine a could-be Daughter of the American Revolution and a coulda-been-a slave?

Me in Morocco

Hypocritical Pride in Being "Mistaken" for Black

Last weekend, at my college reunion, someone who has known me for a long time was shocked to learn that I'm mixed. He thought I was Black, like him and almost everyone else in our homecoming crew. In return, I was shocked to realize that I was...flattered? Proud? Something about his error made me happy. For someone who says being mixed is no big deal, this is embarrassing.

I'd like to say it was the context. I had asked the group if my alma mater's quarterback is Black. A former player said yes and then the caveat was put on it. "Well, Biracial."

Because I've known this person for a while and understand where he comes from, I was able to genuinely laugh and respond, "We count, too!" Shock and confusion ensued. And I was happy. I now knew that, if someone had asked him, before this exchange, if I was Black he wouldn't have equivocated. His answer would have been the same as mine. An absolute yes. And I was sad to know that I had lost that "in-the-club," without-qualification acceptance.

People who know me and my lifestyle even better than this guy put the same equivocation on being mixed. I get sad when I experience it and that's what makes me a hypocrite. I say that being bi- or multiracial is no big deal but the truth is, I experience most of the distresses of any person of color who is sensitive to race and a bit extra I still don't deserve the key to a city or special paperwork, but maybe it's time to accept that there's no shame in being sensitive to other people's deep or shallow biases.

p.s. Yes, I'm still proud of my heritage.