As I sit here filling out college applications, I have to pause and stare at this one question. It’s a simple question for most, but not for me. This question is complicated and doesn’t allow me to fully disclose who I am. The question is:

What is your race (ethnicity)? Please select one of the following:

White

Black or African American

Hispanic

Asian

American Indian or Alaskan Native

Native Hawaiian or Other Pacific Islander

Now this is not the first time I’ve encountered this question in my short life, but it’s a question that I’ve begun to question myself these days. I don’t fit into any of these singular categories. My mom is white, and my father is black. There is no either or option for me. I am both white, and black. So why does my school try to put me and other students into these categories?

For most of my life, I went to private catholic schools. I could count the number of black people in the whole school on one hand, but they didn’t separate themselves much from everyone else so you didn’t think twice about the color of their skin. I swear if I had a nickel for every time someone asked me what I was, I’d be a billionaire by now. I would respond with I’m mixed, or biracial when I learned the meaning of the term. They would then respond with something ignorant, and I would chuckle and move on. I learned early on to ignore those who don’t understand.

All of the African American children always thought that I thought I was better than them because I hung out with the “white kids” and that I identified more with them than “black kids.” My closest friends were white by default of my surroundings, but that never mattered to me. It mattered about how good of a friend they were to me. I spent a lot more time around my mother’s family than my father’s, but that doesn’t mean that one influenced me more than the other. I followed the path that my family set in place for me and that’s it. I acted the way I was taught. My most irritating phrase was “but you don’t sound black.” I would always look at those people like they were stupid. What does that even mean? Sounding black? Because I talk properly, I must not be black? Sounding black is not a real thing. Everyone talks differently, but people of all ethnicities can talk properly and intelligently.

White people aren’t the only people that try to put me in a certain box either. I’ve had plenty of black people ask me if I’m even black or if I’m Hispanic. I’ve had one friend who’d known me for years but had no idea I was biracial, even though he’s met my maternal aunt several times. He then made a joke about a movie that I like that is, apparently, a “black person movie” (I don’t know what that means) saying that I must’ve only seen half the movie because I’m only half black. I proceeded to shake my head and call him in idiot.

In a time where racial tension seems to be growing, I feel myself pushing out of this little box I’ve been placed in. I have been lucky enough to not have blatant racism, or personal attacks because of my skin color, but I’ve seen and heard stories that others have experienced, even my own brother has experienced racism. Society has expected me to act, talk, dress and look a certain way, and I have followed their rules. I dress to blend in with the people around me. I straighten my hair so that my naturally curly hair doesn’t cause people to stop and ask me questions. I have two young half-sisters, one who has hair like mine and the other who has hair in perfect silky ringlets. The sister with hair like mine asked her mom one day “why she doesn’t have hair like her sister.” That question made me stop. My five-year-old sister thinks that she has to have her a certain way because everyone else loves my four-year-old sister’s hair.

In a time where ethnicities are mixing and meshing together, we have to stop putting people into categories by asking them to please select one of the following. I don’t want to belong in a box. I don’t want people to assume things about me because of the color of my skin. The color of skin does not make me who I am. My family, friends, and education have made me the person I am today. I am not black or white. I am both. I am a biracial child who refuses to be forced to pick one race or ethnicity. I am proud of who I am, and we should start letting everyone be proud of who they are without putting them in boxes.