From birth through all of elementary school, I did not realize that I was different from anyone else. Or I suppose a better statement would be, I did not understand how I was different from others. Yes, I noticed that no one in my predominantly white elementary school had the same skin tone or hair texture as me, and yes, I knew that all of my friends parents had similar skin tones and appearances to one another, unlike my parents, but I did not care.

The difference that others saw in me was not made apparent to me until I started middle school. I can still vividly remember myself on the third day of middle school, struggling to open my locker and go to homeroom, when I was suddenly stopped by a teacher whom I did not know in the hallway. He called me over, and as any student would, I assumed I was about to get in trouble. But instead of being reprimanded, I was presented with a question: “Are you Filipino?” Confused and quite taken aback I responded, “No, I am American," thinking that this was an obvious statement. “Oh, I’m sorry, it’s just that you look so much like my daughter that we adopted from there," he responded as I continued on my way. Little did I know that this was only the first of many questions I would be asked about my race and ethnicity.

Before telling you what I am, let me tell you what I am not: Mexican; Spanish; Japanese; Korean; Filipino; Brazilian; Chinese; Puerto Rican; Indian; Middle Eastern; Inuit; or Indonesian. These are all guesses that people have made about my race, although guesses of Latino background are the most common. Out of everything that I have been assumed to be, I have yet to have anybody guess my true race. I am biracial: half black, half white.

Often times, after telling people my true identity, they look somewhat disappointed as if they were hoping for more of an “exotic” answer. On a few occasions, I have tried to appease them by saying that my great grandmother was Native American, to which they usually reply, “Oh that makes sense! Now that you say that I can see the resemblance," which I highly doubt, considering that makes me only 1/16 Native American, but why ruin their imagination?

Although I cannot speak for every biracial person out there, I am sure that almost all biracial people can relate to the barrage of ignorant, insensitive and sometimes just downright rude questions. Questions like, “So are you more white or black?” and “Which parent is black and which one is white?” I’ve even been asked whether I’m more attracted to white guys or black, as if that makes any sense.

But the most frequent and annoying question to be asked is “What are you?”. What am I?! What a vague question to ask. If a majority of people were asked this question, they would almost certainly be confused. I mean what are you supposed to answer with? Your gender, age, grade, sexuality, political party? Most of the time I just want to yell back at them “I am a human!", but I restrain myself and answer with what I and every other biracial person know to answer with.

I realize that to some these questions may seem innocent and harmless, however, over the years, they start to get to a person. Because we are part of both races, yet not fully a member of either one, it is hard to understand this aspect of our identity. I am not white enough to experience white privilege, yet I also do not face the same stereotypes and prejudice that black people endure. When I talk about white privilege and racism, I am quick to be reminded by certain people that I am white; and yet, in other situations, those same people tell me that I am black. There have been times that I have wished to change my appearance. To make my skin darker or my hair kinkier; that way I could finally feel as if I truly fit in with a particular race. It is only recently that I have started to embrace my biracial background.

Despite all of the difficulties that come with being biracial, I would not change my identity or the way I look for anything in this world. I love having physical features that people are not used to seeing together. I love that I can look at a situation from two different points of view, instead of just one. I feel that growing up in a biracial household has also made me more accepting and compassionate toward other people who are minorities, even if they are not from the same racial or ethnic background as me. Being biracial has taught me so much about other people and the world I live in, and I would not know all of the things I know now, nor be the person I am today, without this integral part of me.

So yes, I am biracial, but I am also so much more. I am Mackenzy Collins and I will not let my identity be determined by others.