"Okay so, You're just another white girl. You're not a real [Other Ethnic Group]"

I'm a mutt. In other more appropriate words, I'm multiracial, two races came together and produced me. So, how about more context? I grew up in Southern California, not even 5 miles away from the border. My father is half-German and half-Japanese born on an American army base in Japan, then my grandfather and grandmother moved to the U.S. My mother is full Mexican born in the U.S. For serious reasons, my parents separated and placed a restraining order on each other.

Uh, they looked past that a couple of times and my little sister and I were born (I have 3 other siblings, but they're not important right now). I am the product of a couple of incredible happenings across countries, against all odds, and I face difficulties in our "progressive" society.

" Wow. That's cool. So, can you speak Spanish? You can't? Well, that doesn't count!"

My childhood was a game of hot potato with my siblings and I being thrown around. On weekends, we spend our time with my grandparents (Father's Side). Grandpa told stories about the war while grandma cheered on Sumo wrestlers on TV. She explains "The Baby in the Peach" tale while we ate homemade rice balls with ripe persimmons. I always admired her collection of pretty geisha dolls stored in gleaming glass cases.

My mother didn't celebrate most Mexican traditions (Dia de Los Muertos, Cinco de Mayo, Quinceañeras etc.). However, we ate pozole, tamales, chile renos, horchata, menudo, carne asada, albondigas and my grandparents (Mother's Side) were ecstatic to teach us Spanish whenever we came over, which was not often so I can understand a bit, but not speak it conversationally. We went across the border to visit my mother's relatives every few years.

"Ma'am, it appears you accidentally checked Caucasian, Hispanic/Latino, and Asian Descent. Can you correct that?"

To this day, there's this wall between us, I and others. I never could fit in with kids in my school because I wasn't "Mexican enough". I have blonde ends in my hair, lightly tan skin that gets darker during the summer and hazel eyes. And that's all they saw. Some lighter skin and blonde hair, what a white girl. They'd dropped chisme on me right to face thinking I couldn't tell they were bad mouthing me. Whenever I mentioned I was also Japanese, I was drilled into questioning? Yes, my grandma is from Japan. No, I never got the chance to go. Why is that important? How am I lying? No, I don't speak Japanese. It never stops.

"Pinche Gringa no es uno de nosotros."

I came up to Maine for college and to my surprise, it's more than just "white people". There's so much more and I'm not recognized as just a white girl. Apparently here, I look different.

People ask what ethnicity I am and I'm glad to answer, because for once in my life I'm not accused of pulling some kind of Dolezal scenario. For once, I'm being recognized as a human being, more than just the melanin.

"Go back to Starbucks, Abuelita is a latino drink."

The part that strikes me the most is that I'm not alone. There are thousands, millions of people out there who struggle with cultural identity because others refuse to accept them. The way they look displaces whatever circumstances they grew up with. It's this shallowness, a lazy eye only looking skin deep that pierces the hearts that only want to be accepted, involved, and loved within communities.

The stereotype labels break when interracial couples come together and bring life into the world. This physical proof that we can love beyond bodies, races, religions, cultural expectations, yet spend their whole lives as outsiders looking into themselves saying "I am the same as you, why aren't I enough?" Well, enough is enough. How are we ever going to get over racial barriers until we accept culture as well?