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.
Showing posts with label Black. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Black. Show all posts
Biracial Characteristics: Awkward Outsider
Encountered an interesting new assumption the other day: Because I'm biracial, I must have been awkward or an outsider in high school. Wrong.
This sounds kinda gross/braggadocios, but I was actually a part of one of the popular groups of kids (I say "one of" because, like any big school, we had layers). AND, because I'm fairly outgoing and was raised by non-mainstream people, I was friendly with kids across the high school social strata.
In short, I liked, and was liked in, high school. (slightly embarrassed shuffling of feet goes with this statement)
I went to public school in St. Paul, Minn. The Twin Cities were racially integrated and home of one of the most famous mixed people: Prince. Being biracial didn't automatically make you weird or awkward. In fact, there was a mixed girl at our rival school who was so popular, she was known and liked at my school. I admit, I envied her because she figured out her hair before I did.
At my school, the pot head group had a mixed member; the jocks included two mixed guys; the smart, popular kids included biracial kids. You get the idea. We were everywhere, without stigma.
However, Minnesota is also famed for its Scandinavian population. This had an impact on my personality because it meant I was not considered good looking by most of my classmates. The standard of beauty that was in national magazines and on TV - blond, blue eyes, White - was also the standard of beauty locally. Kids who looked like me were not generally in demand. I think if I had been raised in the south, were being light skinned was valued, I might be a totally different person today.
Looking back, I feel lucky. Being a teen is angsty enough without being considered uncool based on race. And, watching oneself age is hard enough without the chip of lifelong beauty on one's shoulder.
I know this isn't the case for everyone. I know many people who were the "only" at their school - only Indian person, only mixed person, etc. They were treated as outsiders and forced to forge a new path in their classmates' minds or spend years socially isolated. I wish everyone could have Twin Cities experience. I wish America really did accept people for their character, not their color.
This sounds kinda gross/braggadocios, but I was actually a part of one of the popular groups of kids (I say "one of" because, like any big school, we had layers). AND, because I'm fairly outgoing and was raised by non-mainstream people, I was friendly with kids across the high school social strata.
In short, I liked, and was liked in, high school. (slightly embarrassed shuffling of feet goes with this statement)
I went to public school in St. Paul, Minn. The Twin Cities were racially integrated and home of one of the most famous mixed people: Prince. Being biracial didn't automatically make you weird or awkward. In fact, there was a mixed girl at our rival school who was so popular, she was known and liked at my school. I admit, I envied her because she figured out her hair before I did.
At my school, the pot head group had a mixed member; the jocks included two mixed guys; the smart, popular kids included biracial kids. You get the idea. We were everywhere, without stigma.
However, Minnesota is also famed for its Scandinavian population. This had an impact on my personality because it meant I was not considered good looking by most of my classmates. The standard of beauty that was in national magazines and on TV - blond, blue eyes, White - was also the standard of beauty locally. Kids who looked like me were not generally in demand. I think if I had been raised in the south, were being light skinned was valued, I might be a totally different person today.
Looking back, I feel lucky. Being a teen is angsty enough without being considered uncool based on race. And, watching oneself age is hard enough without the chip of lifelong beauty on one's shoulder.
I know this isn't the case for everyone. I know many people who were the "only" at their school - only Indian person, only mixed person, etc. They were treated as outsiders and forced to forge a new path in their classmates' minds or spend years socially isolated. I wish everyone could have Twin Cities experience. I wish America really did accept people for their character, not their color.
Today I am Latina
Based on outside feedback, this week I'm Latina. Based on genetics, I am not. Confused? You're not alone.
In the past I've talked about group think and the random shifts in how I am perceived, racially. Some days, I'm Black. On those days, I get acknowledging nods from black people on the street. Black people that I interact with, who are strangers, talk to me like we're old friends.
The "Black days" are comfortable because, in large part, that's what I am. But it doesn't matter what I think I am because, when I first meet someone, they interact with me based on what THEY think I am. And for quite a while, everyone agreed I was Black, inside and out.
Lately, I've had to work harder to establish myself as Black. No big struggles, just notable.
This week, I learned why. Apparently, I'm shifting to being Latina. Three proof points:
First, I met a man at the gym. He's from Italy. Cool, I love Italy. He said, "But you're Spanish, right?" Me, "No." Him, "But your name is Serena (it isn't) and you have some Spanish in your face."
Aside from boggling my name and making it sound like I have paella stuck to my cheeks, what does this mean? Thanks to being a mix of European, Native American and African stock, almost any one of my features might be Spanish but they could also be anything else. I chalked it up to my new friend being from Italy and kept moving.
Second, I was talking to my favorite clerk at the grocery store. He asked me what I do for living and I told him I write children's books. "Wow," he says. "Are they bilingual?" Me, "Uh, no, why?" Him, "Oh, they aren't in English and Spanish?" Me, (nervous laughter) "No, I don't speak Spanish." Him, (nervous laughter) "Oh...Ok...Well, it's cool that you're a writer."
This man has been talking to me for two years. I've never spoken Spanish to him and I have a Midwestern accent. I live in a neighborhood that is 80% White and about 20% Asian. I can understand him not thinking I'm the only local Black person, but why go Hispanic? There's no obvious answer. So I chalk it up to group think and the phase of the moon.
Except, THIRD, Yahoo! fed up this M&M ad in Spanish for me. I haven't done anything on Yahoo! to indicate an ability to speak Spanish. So, despite behavior to the contrary, right now, even my technology thinks I'm Latina. It's not bad, but it is weird.
No lesson learned. Just the life of a mixed chick in the U.S. Off to enjoy another day of surprising people with my secret blackness.
In the past I've talked about group think and the random shifts in how I am perceived, racially. Some days, I'm Black. On those days, I get acknowledging nods from black people on the street. Black people that I interact with, who are strangers, talk to me like we're old friends.
The "Black days" are comfortable because, in large part, that's what I am. But it doesn't matter what I think I am because, when I first meet someone, they interact with me based on what THEY think I am. And for quite a while, everyone agreed I was Black, inside and out.
Lately, I've had to work harder to establish myself as Black. No big struggles, just notable.
This week, I learned why. Apparently, I'm shifting to being Latina. Three proof points:
First, I met a man at the gym. He's from Italy. Cool, I love Italy. He said, "But you're Spanish, right?" Me, "No." Him, "But your name is Serena (it isn't) and you have some Spanish in your face."
Aside from boggling my name and making it sound like I have paella stuck to my cheeks, what does this mean? Thanks to being a mix of European, Native American and African stock, almost any one of my features might be Spanish but they could also be anything else. I chalked it up to my new friend being from Italy and kept moving.
Second, I was talking to my favorite clerk at the grocery store. He asked me what I do for living and I told him I write children's books. "Wow," he says. "Are they bilingual?" Me, "Uh, no, why?" Him, "Oh, they aren't in English and Spanish?" Me, (nervous laughter) "No, I don't speak Spanish." Him, (nervous laughter) "Oh...Ok...Well, it's cool that you're a writer."
This man has been talking to me for two years. I've never spoken Spanish to him and I have a Midwestern accent. I live in a neighborhood that is 80% White and about 20% Asian. I can understand him not thinking I'm the only local Black person, but why go Hispanic? There's no obvious answer. So I chalk it up to group think and the phase of the moon.Except, THIRD, Yahoo! fed up this M&M ad in Spanish for me. I haven't done anything on Yahoo! to indicate an ability to speak Spanish. So, despite behavior to the contrary, right now, even my technology thinks I'm Latina. It's not bad, but it is weird.
No lesson learned. Just the life of a mixed chick in the U.S. Off to enjoy another day of surprising people with my secret blackness.
Cheerios Commercial Shows the New Normal
Kudos to Cheerios. They have a commercial with a mixed family. Unlike a few folks across the U.S., they don't make a big deal out of it. They did a nice job of making sure that we hear the little girl call the White woman mom before pouring a box of Cheerios on her Black dad's chest.
The first time I saw it, I wondered if I understood the situation correctly. Surprising, considering my household looked almost exactly like the one in the commercial for a few years. The second time, I was like, "Cool. And during prime time!"
Mixed couples are not an anomaly. Children of interracial couples are more common than children of gay families. Strangely, on TV, there are a couple shows that have gay parents but, as far as I know, none that have a black parent and a white parent. Nice to see this version of the new normal.
The first time I saw it, I wondered if I understood the situation correctly. Surprising, considering my household looked almost exactly like the one in the commercial for a few years. The second time, I was like, "Cool. And during prime time!"
Mixed couples are not an anomaly. Children of interracial couples are more common than children of gay families. Strangely, on TV, there are a couple shows that have gay parents but, as far as I know, none that have a black parent and a white parent. Nice to see this version of the new normal.
Mixed Kid Problems
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Mixed kids’ problems are first-world problems. They aren’t
things like “no access to fresh water” or “school is 20 miles away and the bus
broke down.” I’m just saying, as a group, we may have our gripes but, in the
grand scheme, it could be worse. That said, here's a few, starting from the top:
- One or both of your parents has no idea what to do with your hair. Everyone knows it’s not right, but no one knows how to fix it.
- Hats - thanks to our hair, hats are often not our friend. Curls are great, except when they've been mashed down. And, if you're a girl with short curly hair, you will be called a boy when wearing a hat. Trust me, I know.
- You don’t look like you belong to your father. Out in public, people ask, “Are you ok?” and “Is that strange man (a.k.a. your dad) bothering you?”
- You don’t look like you belong to your mom. After seeing her, the other kids tease you about being adopted or wonder “Is that your babysitter?”
- Wrinkles…maybe? Most brown-skinned people have thicker skin that wrinkles less. Mixed kids, no matter what their complexion, aren’t guaranteed that anti-wrinkle power.
- Mixed = Caramel complexion, light eyes or wavy hair (or all of the above). Except we’re not all made that way. Mass disappointment (see bullet 8).
- Lingering looks that lead to the question, “What are you?” or “Where are you from?” and “But where are your parents from?”
- Mass exposure to racism. Being racially ambiguous means you’re more likely to hear it all.
- Disappointing your blind dates. I blame Halle Berry, Lolo Jones, Lenny Kravitz and Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson for setting the bar too high!
If these are the biggest problems you face in life, count yourself lucky. Surviving
being mixed doesn't have to be hard. Simply hope you aren’t tender-headed while your parents
work out their beautician skills. Fight the right battles and try to let everything
else roll off your back. Avoid society’s beauty stereotypes and figure out what’s
good about you. And, when preparing for a blind date, tell them you’re mixed,
you know... like Malcolm Gladwell.
The Tragic Mulatto Must Die
One of the old stereotypes about people who are biracial is the "tragic mulatto," a person who doesn't fit in because he or she isn't White but isn't really Black. Millions of people who claim to be mixed are living well-balanced lives. Isn't it time for us to declare the tragic mulatto dead?
And yet, the stereotype was recently perpetuated by someone I've called a friend. Ignoring all that she knows about me, this woman told a stranger that the reason why he didn't know me in college is because I'm half black and half white, so I didn't know which way to go.
In my book, being accused of being confused about who I am is just slightly better than being called a sellout and much worse than being mistaken for a race/ethnicity that I'm not. What made the accusation shockingly hateful is that she knows better AND is almost the same complexion as I. And did I mention that the man she said this too is also light skinned?
So, imagine, three very light-skinned Black people standing around and one of them basically points her finger at another and says, "You're different, you don't belong, you have to prove yourself to us." It's ridiculous. Would she challenge our President, who is boldly biracial and happens to be darker than she is, with a similarly cruel statement? What about Frederick Douglas?
I won't honor her comment by detailing how Black I was in college or am now. I will say that it's hard enough when non-Blacks make racist statements to or around me - they think it's ok because I'm light. It's not. But it really cut me to the quick to have a friend and fellow light-skinned African-American put me into that tired old, tragic mulatto box. It was tragically thoughtless in the eyes of this not-tragic (and never mulatto) chick.
And yet, the stereotype was recently perpetuated by someone I've called a friend. Ignoring all that she knows about me, this woman told a stranger that the reason why he didn't know me in college is because I'm half black and half white, so I didn't know which way to go.
In my book, being accused of being confused about who I am is just slightly better than being called a sellout and much worse than being mistaken for a race/ethnicity that I'm not. What made the accusation shockingly hateful is that she knows better AND is almost the same complexion as I. And did I mention that the man she said this too is also light skinned?
So, imagine, three very light-skinned Black people standing around and one of them basically points her finger at another and says, "You're different, you don't belong, you have to prove yourself to us." It's ridiculous. Would she challenge our President, who is boldly biracial and happens to be darker than she is, with a similarly cruel statement? What about Frederick Douglas?
I won't honor her comment by detailing how Black I was in college or am now. I will say that it's hard enough when non-Blacks make racist statements to or around me - they think it's ok because I'm light. It's not. But it really cut me to the quick to have a friend and fellow light-skinned African-American put me into that tired old, tragic mulatto box. It was tragically thoughtless in the eyes of this not-tragic (and never mulatto) chick.
Traits of a Mixed Person: Linguistic Ninja
I was recently asked what the traits of a mixed person are. I think what the guy meant was, is there a stereotypical mixed look, style or way of carrying oneself. I couldn't think of anything that's standard issue "Mixed." Our hair runs the gamut, skin color covers the rainbow, and any part of us may reflect one parent's lineage or the other.
Except, I think that many mixed people have the makings of linguistic ninjas. Depending on who raised you and your socio-economic background, many mixed people have learned how to reflect the people around them in the way they talk. An op-ed piece on Barack Obama in the International Herald Tribune on September 10 reflected my thoughts on this.
The gist of the article is this: Barack Obama is flexible in his speaking style. Sometimes he sounds more typically African American while other times he is more racially neutral. The article also points out that Obama says he quickly picked up on the language and customs when in Indonesia, knows a bit of Spanish and a little Hawaiian Creole. Yes, the man is well educated and has proven intelligence, but this kind of linguistic agility and speed may be rooted in something else - having to blend in with different ways of speaking from a very early age.
And he's not alone. A mixed friend of mine, Lisa, speaks English, a bit of Black slang, French and enough Spanish to travel alone in Spain. Another mixed friend, Jeff, is the same - except his fourth language is music instead of French. Personally, I would say I speak American English blended with Black slang and British terms (from living abroad). But when I travel, I either pick up the local accent - my Scottish accent used to make my ex-husband so delightfully frustrated - or the language (if it's a Romance language). For this I thank being comfortable as a kid in Minnesota with my White family and Colorado with my Black family and feeling at home ever since, as I travel the world.
Except, I think that many mixed people have the makings of linguistic ninjas. Depending on who raised you and your socio-economic background, many mixed people have learned how to reflect the people around them in the way they talk. An op-ed piece on Barack Obama in the International Herald Tribune on September 10 reflected my thoughts on this.
The gist of the article is this: Barack Obama is flexible in his speaking style. Sometimes he sounds more typically African American while other times he is more racially neutral. The article also points out that Obama says he quickly picked up on the language and customs when in Indonesia, knows a bit of Spanish and a little Hawaiian Creole. Yes, the man is well educated and has proven intelligence, but this kind of linguistic agility and speed may be rooted in something else - having to blend in with different ways of speaking from a very early age.
And he's not alone. A mixed friend of mine, Lisa, speaks English, a bit of Black slang, French and enough Spanish to travel alone in Spain. Another mixed friend, Jeff, is the same - except his fourth language is music instead of French. Personally, I would say I speak American English blended with Black slang and British terms (from living abroad). But when I travel, I either pick up the local accent - my Scottish accent used to make my ex-husband so delightfully frustrated - or the language (if it's a Romance language). For this I thank being comfortable as a kid in Minnesota with my White family and Colorado with my Black family and feeling at home ever since, as I travel the world.
What Not to Say to Biracial Person
I'm not gonna get preachy, but there are a few things one should think twice about before saying them to a mixed a person:
"Mixed babies are so cute." We're not pandas and therefore we're not uniformly adorable. I mean, have you seen Malcolm Gladwell's hair?! (Nothing against MG; his brain makes up for the bad 'fro)
"My cousin married a (insert minority here) and their kids are mixed." This is second only to "I love gay people...my best friend is gay" when it comes to statements that don't prove you're open minded.
"Which parent is which?" Why is this interesting? And what will the children of my friends Natalie and Greg say to this question considering both Natalie and Greg are hapa?
"You aren't really (insert minority here)." Really? What am I? I'd love for you to tell me more about myself.
"People don't know you're (insert minority here)." Yes, they do. How do I know they don't think I'm white? Because you JUST asked me, "What are you?"
You get the idea. If you would be surprised if I said it to you, about you, please don't say it to me (even if you mean it in the nicest way.
"Mixed babies are so cute." We're not pandas and therefore we're not uniformly adorable. I mean, have you seen Malcolm Gladwell's hair?! (Nothing against MG; his brain makes up for the bad 'fro)
"My cousin married a (insert minority here) and their kids are mixed." This is second only to "I love gay people...my best friend is gay" when it comes to statements that don't prove you're open minded.
"Which parent is which?" Why is this interesting? And what will the children of my friends Natalie and Greg say to this question considering both Natalie and Greg are hapa?
"You aren't really (insert minority here)." Really? What am I? I'd love for you to tell me more about myself.
"People don't know you're (insert minority here)." Yes, they do. How do I know they don't think I'm white? Because you JUST asked me, "What are you?"
You get the idea. If you would be surprised if I said it to you, about you, please don't say it to me (even if you mean it in the nicest way.
Being Mixed in California Has Made Me Soft
Since moving to California in the fall, no one has asked me what my background/heritage/ethnicity/parental birthplace is. It's been nice and I didn't miss it. Yesterday, my "It's been 160 days since our last questioning" sign was erased and put back to zero.
I was with my boyfriend, his friend and the friend's fiancee. We were having a great day. All of us are people of color and I wasn't thinking anything about it - it's nice to just be comfortable with the people around you. Out of the blue, the fiancee asks me about my background. It felt like someone slammed on the brakes of my good time. Suddenly, I was aware of the fact that I'm obviously different. I went from assuming I was part of the group to feeling like an outsider. And, because it's been so long since somebody asked or I thought about being mixed, I sort of stumbled over my answer. No snappy "What do you think I am?" Just, "Ah, well, um, huh, yeah, that came out of nowhere, uh, yeah."
It turns out she is mixed also - Asian and White. I assumed she was simply Asian, but maybe she is often asked about her heritage and didn't think I would find it disconcerting when she asked.
The upside is that I knew there wasn't anything malicious behind it and so I recovered pretty well. I still like her as much as I like anyone after one meeting (I'm slow to call someone a friend) and look forward to us reveling in the comfort of being four people of color on the town sometime soon.
I was with my boyfriend, his friend and the friend's fiancee. We were having a great day. All of us are people of color and I wasn't thinking anything about it - it's nice to just be comfortable with the people around you. Out of the blue, the fiancee asks me about my background. It felt like someone slammed on the brakes of my good time. Suddenly, I was aware of the fact that I'm obviously different. I went from assuming I was part of the group to feeling like an outsider. And, because it's been so long since somebody asked or I thought about being mixed, I sort of stumbled over my answer. No snappy "What do you think I am?" Just, "Ah, well, um, huh, yeah, that came out of nowhere, uh, yeah."
It turns out she is mixed also - Asian and White. I assumed she was simply Asian, but maybe she is often asked about her heritage and didn't think I would find it disconcerting when she asked.
The upside is that I knew there wasn't anything malicious behind it and so I recovered pretty well. I still like her as much as I like anyone after one meeting (I'm slow to call someone a friend) and look forward to us reveling in the comfort of being four people of color on the town sometime soon.
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