When most people look at me, they assume that I’m not completely white. I’ve been used to getting questions like “what are you?” and “you’re Chinese (Hawaiian, Mexican, etc.), right?” since I was a child, and whenever I mention something about being Filipino to a group of new people, at least one person says something like, “oh. It makes so much sense now!” and tells me they’ve been curious about my race, but not wanted to ask me for fear of being rude. While I know a lot of people rightfully do, I don’t actually care if people ask my race. I don’t see it as an offensive thing at this point in my life, and I’m proud of my heritage.
My father’s side of the family has been in the US for many generations, and his side of the family is mostly German. My maternal grandmother is from England, but my grandfather is where I get my tan skin, small eyelids, and otherwise Filipino features. He is fully Filipino and immigrated to the US when he married my grandmother. No, I do not speak Tagalog. No, I haven’t been to the Philippines yet. And no, I will not let this part of my identity be erased.
I look non-white enough that white people are constantly asking my ethnicity, but white enough that other Filipino people often feel like they can prescribe an identity of strictly white to me. I am tired of others deciding that they are able to speak for me. When people tell me that I am strictly Filipino, they are wrong. I grew up with and continue to have more privilege than many people who are completely non-white. I will never know the experience of a Filipino person who grew up in a Tagalog speaking house, has close relatives in the Philippines, or has darker skin and more obviously Filipino features than me. But when people tell me that I am strictly white, they are also wrong. They discount my experiences with microaggressions, such as my race constantly being questioned, peers “jokingly” saying racist things to me, or being called a “mutt.” They ignore the times I have felt “othered” in completely white spaces, the years I spent as a child wishing I was whiter, and my internal struggles with identity.
The message that I have is this: if you are mixed race, you are the only one that can describe your identity. No one else knows your experiences, family life, or feelings about your race. If you are a person of color, please validate and accept mixed people into your community. Let them determine their own identity, and do not erase parts of their heritage just because they aren’t as _____ as you. It is not your job to tell them who they are.
I am still trying to figure out where I fit in. I’m not always comfortable identifying as a person of color, but my experiences are still different than that of a completely white person. Last year, I did a cross the line activity with my team. When we were asked to cross the line if we were a person of color, I was hesitant to cross, but still did, even though I noted that I was unsure. One other girl crossed the line, and I was sure she was judging me. Later, she and I talked about it, and I learned that she had the same thoughts that I did. Being mixed race herself, she thought I would judge her for being too white. That conversation helped me to realize that I am not alone in my experience. I am mixed, I am unique, and I am proud.
