Black + White
If I had a dollar for every time I get asked “What are you mixed with?” I’d be a fuckin millionaire. Okay maybe not that rich but I’d for sure be bankin. So to answer the question… Black and white. I’ve never liked having to just choose one race when I fill out paperwork. Only because if I choose white, I feel like I’m denying my black side… and vice versa.
I will say though that I go back and forth with my mom a lot because I think I’m half Hispanic. Oh, I probably should’ve mentioned at the beginning of this post that I don’t know my biological dad. Never seen a picture of him, don’t know his name, and the older I get the less I care.
It’s 2017 and people still look at mixed raced families like they are foreign. My mom and I have been in the W (Walmart for people who don’t get my abbrevs), and people will still stare. I can’t even imagine the looks my mom got when I was a child. A 17 year old white girl carrying around a little mixed baby in 1987.
Quick disclaimer: I’ve dealt with racism personally maybe ONCE in my 29 years of life. My brother and I rode the bus every day and this high school white kid held up a confederate flag to us and said “Do you know what this means?”. Well hell… I was in the 4th grade and my brother was probably in the 1st. No we most certainly did not know what that meant.
My grandparents sure did though. We told them what happened, my Nana was in the principal’s office the next morning and the kid ended up getting suspended. It wasn’t until I was older that I really realized the meaning behind him doing that.
I get asked a lot if I’ve ever dated a white guy. Ummm I went to an all white school so yes. I “talked to” this one guy in middle/high school off and on I guess… But I think his mom wasn’t comfortable with him talking to me because I wasn’t the typical ‘blonde hair/blue eyed girl’ that was Krum, Tx. Maybe you can consider that another form of racism.
My Nana & Papa loved us because we were their grandkids but at the same time as I got older I could tell certain things bothered them more.
I brought home a white guy to meet them and my Papa talked his ear off. It was like they were so happy to see me with somebody who had their same complexion. The next guy I introduced them to ended up being my now ex-husband. Conversation between them was night and day. It was short and didn’t feel like they genuinely wanted to get to know him. (Definitely a topic that will be in a blog down the line).
Growing up mixed came with a lot of mixed emotions. I know when my cousin Johnathan was born, my brother and I felt some kinda way because he was white and we were ‘brown’. I think we felt like he would be the favorite because he wasn’t mixed.
One thing I ended up realizing as I got older though was that was the furthest from the truth. I may not have known my black side but the love I got from my white side was enough.
This might have been one of those blogs I mentioned I would ramble so forgive me if you’re bored. I’m almost done. I may have not dealt with some of the segregation that other races have but I have seen things that have made appreciative of the upbringing I had.
I say that because I know I can teach my boys to look past skin color. Mixed, black, white, green… I don’t want it to matter to them. The question “What are you mixed with?” should no longer matter.
Okay so now to close.
With so much racial division going on today I get asked a lot “Did your white side get offended by that?” Two halves make a whole and my whole self doesn’t get offended very easily.