Please Choose One....BLACK!

Race for me is like a guessing game which solely depends on wether or not my hair is straight or curly. "Are you Dominican? White? Puerto Rican?" If I am in a really tricky mood I will let them continue to guess in hopes they would actually guess correctly.  Then I say for the millionth time "My mom is Haitian" they tell me I am lying, I get upset, then the game is over.  Sometimes conversations end completely, mainly because assumptions are made from my features and their ignorant eye is unable to  see a Haitian women with fair skin, and/or curly hair. 

 So... Welcome to my life! 

 It is very interesting  to read many of the Bi-racial coming out stories, as I like to call them. People sharing their experiences of identity and why they choose to identify with whichever race or culture they are mixed with. Finally seeing that there are people out there with similar experiences that just GET IT and know to ask before assuming. There are actually people out there who know what it feels like to be mistaken everyday for something they are not. The feeling is similar to having to correct your teacher on Day 1 of school when they mispronounce your name, BUT on a daily basis.... Pretty Fucking Annoying

To sum it up, Bi racial people are pretty much invisible. We get tossed into whatever group we resemble most and  are always expected to choose ONLY one on paper whether that is "Black, White, Asian" etc. Then in some other instances, mostly verbally, we are expected to say we are bi-racial and explain Who, What, When, Where and Why we are that way.  Well Guess what? It is a real pain in the ass and the most bizarre shit ever. 

 So here it is, my mom was Haitian and my Father was white. Most people who are close to me know that I do not identify with being white unless someone is truly probing to know my racial binary. I could have probably gotten away my entire life just identifying as Haitian but my brother and I grew up attached by our hips and his race was always questioned. Not to say mine would not have been, but people would have just assumed that I was possibly Latina my entire life and to me thats  far better to me than being white.

I grew up in a culturally diverse neighborhood so being Bi-racial or mixed was not something I struggled with. My fair skin was not a problem and my hair did not single me out. Like all the other little girls in my hood, I danced around my house to Whitney Houston, got my scalp got greased on Sundays and played with Barbie and Ken. I mastered the 3 player tweet baby hand game and was the bomb dot com in hop scotch, double dutch and stepping. I knew how to wine, played manhunt, freeze tag,and ended summer nights playing red light, green light 123. So I was GOOD! However living under the same household, my brother had a very different experience which was sometimes painful for me to see, but always reminded me that we were cut from a different cloth.

My Bi-Racial Experience? I'm not sure how to answer that question because it only brings me pain. Similar to Mishma from "I'm Down", my mother once had this epiphany and thought it was "best" for me to go to an all white school. I do not remember much about my elementary experience except for when I entered my new fifth grade class and realized I was different. My hair was not straight, I was not wearing brands like M.U.D and limited too, my slang was different and of course my skin was darker..I know, how ironic! I spent my lunch and gym time answering questions about my braids, where I lived, why my mother was so black and my brother was so white. I honestly wanted to slap the smirk off of everyone in my fifth grade class because they irritated the shit out of me. For the first time in my life I had to struggle with my "otherness" and I wanted OUT so badly. Instead of celebrating my long curly hair like my black family and friends, instead they pointed out how different I was. Half of me was white but I could not relate and honestly, I did not want to. Luckily my mother's dream was short lived, she knew I was miserable and put me right back where I belonged for Junior high School.

My Black Experience? Now we are talking!! "I'm from Brooklyn, what it look like?"   Identity for me has never been a problem, I always knew where I belonged and grew up in love with my culture and never wanted anything to do with being white. My father died when I was a little girl and his family did not want much to do with us after he passed so that can probably contribute to me not wanting to identify with his entire race..(Extreme I know!)  I watched my mother raise three kids on her own and saw her deal with all the oppressions and complexities  that came along with being a black women with bi-racial children. I watched her work three jobs to make ends meet. I listened to all of her work problems and remember how the white man always questioned her intelligence. I helped her mix the creamy crack every six weeks to lay down her kinky curls so that she can achieve the "White Beauty standard." I watched her make phone calls to my white family, but never actually saw a call back.  I watched her face two eviction notices and remember long dark nights in a home with no heat or light, just Love. Her skin was so thick and soul was so strong until breast cancer came knocking on her door. She lived in a hospital for over a year and yet still managed to ensure we had a roof over our head, and was on our way to college. Now thats #BlackgirlMAGIC !  
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So No, white privilege does not exist in my world. Being bi-racial has never given me a handout or made anything easier for me or anyone around me. Being "half white" has only made my life more complicated than it needed to be. All of my success and hard work does not get split up amongst two races.  So when it's time to  choose only ONE race on paper, I think about all the times I got asked if my mother was my nanny...I remember my mothers black face in a sea of white faces at my fifth grade graduation...I remember all the times my mother contacted my white family....... and then I instantly choose "BLACK."

-Rose