In life, people ask questions, lots of questions. As you get older and start to grow as a human, there are certain question that make you feel uncomfortable. Everyone has their “thing” they don't want to talk about let alone be asked about. My “thing” is questions about my race. As a biracial woman, my life is nothing but questions just like that. Not only do i get questions but i get stares, looks, whispers and hate.
I have been dealing with all of this just because of my being biracial. Do you know the worst part of it all? Probably, the fact of always having to repeat the same answers to the same type of people.Some things people say/ ask me on a daily basis is, “ what are you?” “ what are you mixed with?” “ you can’t be black,
...you are so light!”. Things like this are pretty normal for me. It is always mostly strangers asking these things. I get stopped on the street, at school, restaurants and everything.
Sometimes i wonder how people get curious enough to ask a complete and utter stranger about their race. But on the other hand, i understand why. I know people are driven by personal appaerannce. So when people do ask me, i try to educate them on how to approacch someone about something that personal. Most people walk away saying i taught them something and their are others who ask me maliciously. But all in all, i understand.
But when they ask me questions like the ones above I answer to them saying this, “I am a biracial woman. My father is African American and m
mother is also like me, biracial.” After that, many always ask me how it feels to be a biracial woman. My answer almost always turn out the same way. I say to them, “ Being biracial has made me soon figure out that are ups and downs to everything. As i grew up, I was not prepared for the kind of experiences and hardships i would have just because of the simple fact of being black with lighter skin.” I always tend to say this answer to make people understand my feelings in such a short amount of words.
Those types of questions often make me think about me and my place in this world. Regarding hate from others about my race, i am one of the lucky ones. Now i have not experienced much racism myself but there’s nothing like your first time. My first time being discriminated against because of the color of my skin was when i was probably 5 or 6. My experience hits close to home because it was by my family members.
One day i was at my cousin’s house getting my hair done. As i was getting closer to finishing my hair my aunt let me have break to play outside with my cousins. We started playing this game, probably hide and seek, i am not really sure. But when i won the game, one of my cousins tried to make me feel bad and he said, “ that’s why you're white and you'll never be like us”. I was so upset after my cousin said that to me. I started to cry and i couldn't even look at myself
the same way the whole night. Now if that's what my own family was saying to me at 5 or 6. What would others say to me as i got older?
That moment changed more than i knew. I was constantly around my black family members and always stood out. Over time, i tended to hide myself, my personality and my face. I thought if i never opened up to anyone then they would never ask me about myself. Quickly i realized that wasn't the case. I think when i entered middle school it became a daily routine to explain myself and my ethnicity. People came with the craziest things ever. Like that i was asian or hispanic or even indian. But when i say i am biracial, they kind of get disappointed. Like being black and white isn't “all that”. My perspective on people asking me my heritage changed when i got to college. I am not as irritated by the questions and the stares and the looks anymore. I know people are curious and they let their imagination run wild about what exactly i am. So when people come up to me randomly and ask i just tell them and keep it moving.
Something i have learned is that being biracial in america is about taking on two types of discrimination and racism from two completely different groups of people. So when you think about it everything is doubled. Double the stares, double the looks and double the negativity. In my case, i am not white enough nor black enough. So when both sides are pushing me away, there is not really anywhere for me
to turn to. I am simply alone or just dealing with it. That is the cold painful truth about being biracial in america.
