With the recent events in the world, I have held back from voicing my stances on these subjects via social media because I believe it isn't the best outlet. In this article, however, I would like to give my thoughts on the violence that is going on in our communities, relation to minorities, policemen and women, and connecting my ethnic background.
When people first meet me, I cannot tell you how many times they just stare at me awkwardly until they finally ask, "What are you?" I never am offended at this question, I find it quite humorous, but a defining question that they ask is figuring out what you are—whatever that means. Most people think I am Puerto Rican, some think I am Nigerian, and others think I am half of something.
Sadly, I am not Puerto Rican, but I am, I guess, half-and-half. Even as I type these words, I want to push backspace; I dislike calling myself, or any other person, half of something—they are a whole person who should be loved for their whole being.
For those of who are wondering what I am, I am in fact 100 percent white and 100 percent black. The top half of me isn't just black and the bottom just white, or vice versa, I am fully white and I am fully black. For those of you who are bi-racial, it's both weird and funny to consider your physical body as half of one skin color and half the other, but so many people approach it that way. That isn't a fault of their own, it's just what happens and we need to change it.
I love being two races—it is so cool! I look at my parents, and then my sister, and I and thank all the leaders before me, such as Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., who helped make the unity of different races in marriage possible. I have been able to speak into different communities because of my race, and I love sharing both cultures.
Growing up was difficult because I felt like I fit into the black community, but people would always say that I wasn't really black, only half of me was black. I also had struggles fitting into the white community because they viewed me as black because of my skin color.
Another struggle I encountered was when I first became an RA at my college. There were some guys that were black I heard talking about me saying I was not really "black" because I talked white. But just because I know how to make a complete sentence, does not mean I talk "white."
What do I think when all this violence is going on in the communities that my race is associated with? I am sad, deeply sad. It saddens me that the black community is still receiving hatred, but also it saddens me that police are abused in their communities.
I would have never thought that I would be scared to be black, but honestly, when a cop pulls into my neighborhood or is driving down the road, I become fearful.
That is a sad world to live in. I want to put in a word here: I believe that there are a lot of policemen and women doing great things, and I also believe that there are some out there displaying brutal acts of hate against people of color.
So what do we do with all this? Honestly, I have no idea. I do, though, want to speak to the black community about decreasing black-on-black crime; we cannot blame the police for all of our problems, if we really want these stereotypes in the black community to decrease, we have to decrease this violent crime against our own people—let's stop killing each other!
I also want to speak to the white community to help them understand what it is to be black in today's world, and also to listen to their views on what is going on—it matters!
I am 100 percent white and I am proud to be that. I also am 100 percent black and I am proud of that.
If you want to stand with your black brothers and sisters, talk to them. Hear their stories. If you want to stand with your white brothers and sisters, talk to them. Hear their views on these things.
Posting on social media with all these hashtags is not going to do anything—how about we actually do something and love people?