I never had experiences like that at home with my white mother. Strangers would sometimes talk to my dad like he was an idiot when, honestly, my dad is one of the most intelligent men I know. The neighborhood slowly started to become smaller with houses being abandoned and people quietly moving away. We could sometimes hear gunshots nearby, and my grandma would make sure we were in the house by dark. My dad's neighborhood was a little rougher. You're not one or the other - you're both, and no one knows what to make of you.Īs I got older, I started to notice some major differences in my mixed family. It's a tough pill to swallow to be so young and so uncertain of who you are in the world. I remember asking my mom why I didn't get to be Black, and she said, "Well, you are." Cue my very first identity crisis. It wasn't until I had a Black neighbor growing up that told me my dad was Black and that I was white. My Black cousins and I never questioned why we looked different from each other, we just were who we were. And that's just one of many examples that made me feel like I didn't fit on either side.įor the longest time, I didn't really know the difference between my races. ![]() He would take me to salons where his stylist friend would grease my hair into braids and put little poms in them. My mom didn't know how to take care of my curly hair, and my dad didn't know how to take care of it either. ![]() Growing up, no one knew what to make of me. My DNA results tell me I am - not that I wouldn't know from my dad's whole side being people of color. You wouldn't know to look at me, but I am very much of mixed descent. If you were to look at me, you'd probably think, "That white girl needs to get out of the sun," or "Why is that white girl's hair so different?" That's because I'm not white.
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