Growing up mixed race has been a unique experience. Certainly, I can't say that my experience matches the experiences of other mixed kids. But what I can say is that growing up in the area I did, with my family dynamic, the school I went to, and the friends I surrounded myself with, my early years were complex. Furthermore, add in the overwhelming influence that the media had in my life and it's clear to me why I felt confused about my racial identity for a very long time.
The earliest memory I have of me negatively taking note of my mixed race status was in first grade, and I guess that's because other's began to notice. I remember other kids blindsiding me with questions about whether or not I was adopted, because my mother, being the white parent, didn't look like me. As I've grown I've found that plenty of people see similar physical characteristics between my mother and me, so I can only assume that when other kid's said I didn't look like her they were basing our appearances off of skin tone alone. I also, remember one instance when the class bully referred to me as chocolate milk face -- go ahead and laugh if you must -- but in all actuality, to a first grader her words stung a lot. So much so that at some point along the way I began to confide in my grade school friends that I wished I just looked like my mother, and at times I would go as far to say that I wished I was white.
When I got to high school and middle school things didn't get much easier. I hated my curly hair, I nearly killed all of it because I frankly had no idea what I was doing with it, and was trying to make it do something it wasn't naturally meant to do. I was more aware of my differences than ever and with that so were my peers. Sometimes I would be asked which race I considered myself -- as if I had to choose just one. While other times the interactions I faced were more hostile, and I was outright I was told that I wasn't black, whether it was based on how I looked, how I spoke, or the music I listened to, and that wasn't right. This continued to the point that I just allowed people to define me how they saw fit, while I had no clue where my own feelings fit into the equation. Somewhere along the way I had lost track of the fact that my feelings about myself were the most important.
When I got to college I was greeted with a whole new attitude, for the first time I wasn't told that I spoke like a white girl, by white people or black people. I wasn't glared at by my black peers, or told that I wasn't really black. I met people my age who were allowing me to tell them who I was. For me college was the turning point in my journey of self-discovery and self-acceptance. I began to meet people from all different walks of life, more mixed people than I can say I've ever known as well as black people who came from all different cultures. College was the point for me that I began to learn about black culture and how it was a part of me as a mixed girl for the first time. And how there are different forms of blackness and although mine was different so was everyone else's around me. I had already known this to some extent but I had never had the living proof. It was based off of a feeling, but going to college allowed me to meet people that gave me the validation that I needed. I was given the opportunity to meet people who looked like me who had so many different life experiences that I could learn from as well as people who had faced similar challenges that they had overcome in ways that I would have never imagined.
I can't say that I go to the most racially diverse college in the world -- if I'm being honest most would see it as the opposite -- so it would be wrong to say that it's the only factor in me beginning to learn about and embrace a part of me that I never really had before. I also have to give some credit to social media, a platform that allows me to see people of all different walks of life share their stories. Social media has allowed me to see the beautiful black women that I rarely if ever got to see as a little girl. It has also been a way for me to further see the levels of racism that black people face, and how being mixed didn't necessarily protect me from that harsh reality.
So for the better part of my life, I didn't see black history month as a time that was about people that had anything in common with me. Partially because I had tried to deny half of me from a very young age, and then my feelings were further solidified when I faced so many people telling me I wasn't black and their varies reasons why. I saw myself as someone who wasn't black or white, instead of seeing myself as both. And with that belief I shut down from developing any further from that point, since I didn't see myself as either I didn't try to learn anything knew about black culture or try to surround myself with black role models, and to be frank, I already had white role models because that is what the media is saturated with. One side of me was thriving while the whole other side stopped growing a long time ago until now. I can honestly say this year is different for me, and I can only assume that the years to come will feel different as a grow, learn, and become more comfortable in my identity as a woman who is both black and white. As I actively seek new information about the beauty as well as hardships of a group of people that play a part in the person I am today.
