When we were born, we knew nothing about ethnicity, nor different races (as some refer). It is something that it is taught to us as we get older. When I was younger, I knew I was different, but I couldn’t pinpoint the exact cause. I knew some of my family, and even myself, were a tad bit darker than others; but I never thought much about it. I just thought that we were darker. Never did I know there was a barrier in between cultures.

As I got older, I was taught the differences and not in easy ways. There were hateful comments, uncomfortable situations, and even a loss of friends. Comments were even undermined by the fact that some didn’t viewed me as “black." But what am I?

Some people think situations like these don’t happen anymore, but they do. Behind the smiling faces, in the shadow of the 21st century, it is still here. Although I grew up in a very uplifting community, there were always those times when ethnicity became a factor.

I AM MIXED. Not black nor white, but in-between. Although I have factors of both ethnicity, most people only see black. They see the curly hair, the darker complexion, and instantly I am placed into a category. A stereotype outlined with broken families, poverty, and minority. A stereotype that chains the identity of the holder into a slot that they may not crawl out of. A stereotype that is clenching onto the past, with lacerations deeper than blood can define.

And yet, here I am, straddling the line of the oppressed and the oppressors. Where beneath the skin is a history of exploration and establishment. With descendants of strength and pride; hands calloused by the American Dream. I am the middle ground between segregation and unity. The ‘hypocritic race’ we are better known. The ones who can neither identify as one nor the other. I am the collision of two cultures.

They say, “circle your ethnicity,” but which shall I choose? Am I more one than the other? How should I know? To make the struggle easy, I go with the one more physically present, but why should I hide the other? A life searching for an identity, but the answer is far from being obtained.

Some may say, “ethnicity doesn’t matter;” but those are the ones who have never thought a little harder. We are all made to be equal, I can agree upon that. However, there are those moments when you are asked to characterize yourself. I am proud of my African cultural, just as I am proud of my Caucasian culture.

Though I am generally seen as black, I am an advocate for both. Don’t look at me as the identity you choose to assign me. Instead, look at me for who I am. I am a mixed baby. Mixed with the dark moments in history but highlighted with the light. I am not a mistake, nor a fault in genetics. I refused to be referred to as the hypocrite, for I am the result of equality. Mixed is beautiful.