The "Stuff" people say craze has unleashed a frenzy of videos about the experiences people have regarding race relations. Of course I couldn't help but think it was just a matter of time before "Stuff" people say about mixed people became part of the parody circuit. And I was right! There are a few videos out there, but I liked this one the best:
Here is my own string of consciousness about this topic:
What are you?
Oh, you're mixed? That must be why you have good hair.
You're half Oriental?
Oh let me guess, you're mom is Chinese.
How can you tell the difference between Asians?
Your eyes are so chinky!
You are so exotic!
Don't try to talk Black.
You talk White.
You dress White.
Are you trying to dress Black?
You're mixed? Kind of like a mutt?
I knew you weren't like other Black people.
You think you're all that because you're light.
Wait, what are you again?
You're Black and Asian? That's hot! I'm gonna call you Kimora!
Okay, I think I got it out of my system. Well, some people are having fun with this, some people are offended and some people are actually learning. I am hoping that we can continue to work on learning more about one another and getting more comfortable with our differences. Let's celebrate each other and all the unique aspects of our race and culture.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Friday, March 11, 2011
Mixed Race Donors
I was just talking about the medical issues that individuals of mixed race must contend with, as there is so much that is unknown. I saw this today and wanted to share...
http://mixedandhappy.com/2011/03/05/looking-for-mixed-race-donors-because-her-life-depends-on-it/
If you are part of the Highbred Nation, please consider signing up to be a potential bone marrow donor. I am going to do it and I hope you will too!
http://mixedandhappy.com/2011/03/05/looking-for-mixed-race-donors-because-her-life-depends-on-it/
If you are part of the Highbred Nation, please consider signing up to be a potential bone marrow donor. I am going to do it and I hope you will too!
Saturday, February 19, 2011
The Power of Silence
Reflecting on recent events - personal, local, national and global - I am moved to share the following insight from our youth. I am moved beyond words by the empathy, courage and power within their words. May we all stop and listen and learn. I guarantee the world will be a better place.
“In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.” The day my mother told me this quote from Martin Luther King, Jr., I really started thinking about it more.
I remember that day, that perfect day, until after lunch. My friends and I were just sitting on the swings, but that bully had to be there too. My friends just left, they just left. They didn’t even care. Why didn’t they stand up for me? I felt so alone.
Or that other day during the school party when people were teasing me. My friends didn’t say anything. They were supposed to be on my side. I wanted to go home because I felt like I didn’t have a friend. WHY? WHY?
What my mother told me was so true… the silence of my friends hurt me more than that bully on the playground or the teasing at the party did. From then on I remember to help others, respect others, and to never be the bully.
They say that one person
Has the power to change the world
Simply with words.
One sentence, from one person,
Could change the entire way somebody thinks.
Imagine, then, what thousands of voices could do!
The world could be completely turned, if we only would speak.
But here I stand, in front of you,
Completely motionless, saying nothing.
The silence
Is a python, tied taut around my neck,
Is a fist, jammed down my throat,
Is a sword, stabbing me in the chest every time I take a breath.
I dare to meet your gaze,
And my eyes immediately avert away.
Your eyes—your beautiful, blue eyes—are filled with pleading,
Begging me to say something, anything.
They remind me of how you were always there for me—
Cracking jokes when I was down,
Holding me and wiping me tears when I cried,
Defending me when they were attacking me.
Using your words to build me up, to change my life.
The silence is heavier now;
Guilt is weighing me down,
Making me feel like I am carrying backpacks full of rocks.
Still, I do not speak; I simply watch,
As they mock you,
Spit cruel words at you,
Tear you down.
Using their words to destroy you, to change your life.
Words, unformed, sit in the bottom of my stomach.
Oh, how I want to speak!
But I don’t, because of my weakness, for my fear of them turning their cruelty to me.
This is too much.
I turn, run away, from all of this, from
Your pleading eyes, from
Their cruel words, from
My own unending speechlessness.
That silence is one of my greatest regrets;
You never regarded me the same way again.
Between me and you, who was long ago my greatest friend, was silence.
If only I had been stronger, I could have spoken.
Just one sentence could have changed all of this for you.
But I didn’t speak,
Didn’t build you up,
Didn’t change your life.
I just gave you silence
They call him a name and he feels hurt on the inside but what does he say?
NOTHING.
What changes in our world when this happens day after day?
NOTHING.
One day, my friend and I were sitting, observing our surroundings.
The teacher got up, leaving the room.
A boy, sometimes quite different from others,
was minding his own business.
But, many others teased this boy,
calling him names and shooting rubber bands at him.
My friend and I glanced at each other.
I then made a snide comment to my friend;
the boy couldn’t hear it;
it wasn’t hurting him.
So what’s the harm?
I immediately expected an agreeing smirk back at me.
But, no.
Rather, my friend said,
“He gets enough rubbish from the other kids.
You don’t have to contribute just because they are.”
After this was said, my friend was dead silent,
saying nothing rude against the boy.
I was so taken aback that all I could manage to sputter was, “Sure.”
Later that evening, I sat and thought,
really thought, about what my friend had said.
It felt like my very own friend
had punched me in the gut with the comment!
I was the one of whom was made a fool! No one else, but me!
I was sick with guilt; I didn’t know what to do.
The next day, I went back to my friend and said,
“You know what I’ve discovered? You’re right.”
My friend asked, “What in the world are you talking about?”
I replied with, “Yesterday you stood up for the boy.
You did the right thing.
I had absolutely no right to make fun of him, just because others were.
Thank you for making me realize that.”
My friend said simply, “Oh, sure,”
shrugging off the situation, completely forgetting about it.
Little did my friend know that
I was inspired
by the actions shown
and the words spoken.
To stand up for one’s friend,
is an act of kindness.
To stand up for one you barely even know,
is better than kindness.
It’s an act of pure love.
From that day forward,
I was a completely
different
person.
he enters our world like a cold wind—
unwanted, unwarranted, unwelcome.
there is one short-but-eternal, uncertain-but-definite
moment
when our small universe freezes in
suspended silence—
the pencil lies unsharpened,
the paper a blank landscape.
he is not like us:
his eyes are two camera lenses,
just out of focus—
his hands
curious
are a pair of explorers
in a never-ending search for treasures new and exotic—
his mind is a child at play,
simply and sweetly.
in this single moment,
the citizens of our metropolis stare at the newcomer, their eyes
twin pools of pity and fear.
for the boy in the letter jacket and the girl with the pretty yellow skirt,
he is laughably different, hilariously foreign.
and so, the charm breaks and the torment begins.
scornful glares surround the friendly wanderer;
our microcosm of civilization
morphs into a murder of harsh-calling crows,
their caws mocking laughter.
retard, they call him.
mental.
stupid.
special. you know, special.
like hunted prey, he is trapped by their words.
and I stand quietly in the back,
mute as if I am blind and deaf to these blackbirds.
I wish I had taken his curious hands
and left them all behind.
I wish I had asked him to show us all
how to break the rules
how to be human
how to free ourselves.
I wish I had told him that he is
not retarded
not mental
not special.
he is just a boy.
Martin Luther King, Jr.
Student Poetry Contest
2011 Winners
First Place, Elementary
Harmanpreet Kaur, George W. Gibbs Elementary, 5th grade
“Why Be Silent?”
Harmanpreet Kaur, George W. Gibbs Elementary, 5th grade
“Why Be Silent?”
When a friend needs your help,
What will you do?
Stand there silent,
Not saying a word?
Or, will you support them,
Stand up for them,
And not let them get hurt?
What will you do?
Stand there silent,
Not saying a word?
Or, will you support them,
Stand up for them,
And not let them get hurt?
Yes, I have had times,
Where I did not stand up for my friend,
I let them get hurt and silently watched.
But if we all follow Dr. King’s example,
We could all make a difference in the world.
Where I did not stand up for my friend,
I let them get hurt and silently watched.
But if we all follow Dr. King’s example,
We could all make a difference in the world.
One word could make a difference,
In how someone ends up feeling.
What would we end up like,
If no one stood up?
If no one spoke up?
In how someone ends up feeling.
What would we end up like,
If no one stood up?
If no one spoke up?
We should all try not to be silent,
And not just stand there.
We each want to fight for our own rights,
But we do not only have to fight for ourselves,
We also need to fight for others;
And this shows true bravery.
And not just stand there.
We each want to fight for our own rights,
But we do not only have to fight for ourselves,
We also need to fight for others;
And this shows true bravery.
Second Place, Elementary
Emily Madson, Harriet Bishop Elementary, 5th grade
“Be a Friend”
Emily Madson, Harriet Bishop Elementary, 5th grade
“Be a Friend”
“In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.” The day my mother told me this quote from Martin Luther King, Jr., I really started thinking about it more.
I remember that day, that perfect day, until after lunch. My friends and I were just sitting on the swings, but that bully had to be there too. My friends just left, they just left. They didn’t even care. Why didn’t they stand up for me? I felt so alone.
Or that other day during the school party when people were teasing me. My friends didn’t say anything. They were supposed to be on my side. I wanted to go home because I felt like I didn’t have a friend. WHY? WHY?
What my mother told me was so true… the silence of my friends hurt me more than that bully on the playground or the teasing at the party did. From then on I remember to help others, respect others, and to never be the bully.
Third Place, Elementary
Arianna Quinn Swenson, Harriet Bishop Elementary, 5th grade
“The Friend I Should Have Been”
Arianna Quinn Swenson, Harriet Bishop Elementary, 5th grade
“The Friend I Should Have Been”
The friend I should have been
When Mathew was a bully
When Mathew was a bully
The friend I should have been
When you needed some back-up
When you needed some back-up
The friend I should have been
When I was a bully
When I was a bully
The friend I should have been
When you needed me
When you needed me
The friend I should have been
The friend I am now
The friend we all should be
The friend I am now
The friend we all should be
First Place, Middle School
Megan Jans, St. Francis of Assisi, 8th grade
“My Greatest Regret”
Megan Jans, St. Francis of Assisi, 8th grade
“My Greatest Regret”
They say that one person
Has the power to change the world
Simply with words.
One sentence, from one person,
Could change the entire way somebody thinks.
Imagine, then, what thousands of voices could do!
The world could be completely turned, if we only would speak.
But here I stand, in front of you,
Completely motionless, saying nothing.
The silence
Is a python, tied taut around my neck,
Is a fist, jammed down my throat,
Is a sword, stabbing me in the chest every time I take a breath.
I dare to meet your gaze,
And my eyes immediately avert away.
Your eyes—your beautiful, blue eyes—are filled with pleading,
Begging me to say something, anything.
They remind me of how you were always there for me—
Cracking jokes when I was down,
Holding me and wiping me tears when I cried,
Defending me when they were attacking me.
Using your words to build me up, to change my life.
The silence is heavier now;
Guilt is weighing me down,
Making me feel like I am carrying backpacks full of rocks.
Still, I do not speak; I simply watch,
As they mock you,
Spit cruel words at you,
Tear you down.
Using their words to destroy you, to change your life.
Words, unformed, sit in the bottom of my stomach.
Oh, how I want to speak!
But I don’t, because of my weakness, for my fear of them turning their cruelty to me.
This is too much.
I turn, run away, from all of this, from
Your pleading eyes, from
Their cruel words, from
My own unending speechlessness.
That silence is one of my greatest regrets;
You never regarded me the same way again.
Between me and you, who was long ago my greatest friend, was silence.
If only I had been stronger, I could have spoken.
Just one sentence could have changed all of this for you.
But I didn’t speak,
Didn’t build you up,
Didn’t change your life.
I just gave you silence
Second Place, Middle School
Rosemary Rogers, St. Francis of Assisi, 8th grade
“Imagine”
Rosemary Rogers, St. Francis of Assisi, 8th grade
“Imagine”
Imagine…
A world where all are silent,
Where horrible deeds go unchallenged,
Where saviors become bystanders,
And the every-day hero in all of us reduced, confined, ignored.
This is a world of violence and cowardice.
This is the nightmare.
A world where all are silent,
Where horrible deeds go unchallenged,
Where saviors become bystanders,
And the every-day hero in all of us reduced, confined, ignored.
This is a world of violence and cowardice.
This is the nightmare.
Imagine…
A world where people are unafraid to speak up for what is right,
Where bystanders are no more,
Where everyone’s heroic side is proudly displayed,
And fear is vanquished by bravery.
This is a world of compassion and courage.
This is the dream.
A world where people are unafraid to speak up for what is right,
Where bystanders are no more,
Where everyone’s heroic side is proudly displayed,
And fear is vanquished by bravery.
This is a world of compassion and courage.
This is the dream.
Imagine…
A world that exists on the thin line between nightmare and dream,
Where there are both bystanders and saviors,
Where heroism is chosen,
And improvement is strived for.
This is a world with both dark and light.
This is reality.
A world that exists on the thin line between nightmare and dream,
Where there are both bystanders and saviors,
Where heroism is chosen,
And improvement is strived for.
This is a world with both dark and light.
This is reality.
Third Place, Middle School
Kierra Walske, John Adams Middle School, 8th grade
“Silence = Nothing Good”
Kierra Walske, John Adams Middle School, 8th grade
“Silence = Nothing Good”
They tell a mean joke and everyone laughs and says…
NOTHING.
NOTHING.
They call him a name and he feels hurt on the inside but what does he say?
NOTHING.
He remembers that day for all of his years.
He remembers it well because he FELT like….
NOTHING.
He remembers it well because he FELT like….
NOTHING.
What changes in our world when this happens day after day?
NOTHING.
Honorable Mention, Middle School
Taylor Bluthardt, John Adams Middle School, 7th grade
“Miracle”
Taylor Bluthardt, John Adams Middle School, 7th grade
“Miracle”
In a world where quiet is a part of life
The silence can be sometimes like a knife
When you see the pain in my eyes
Set me free, for you could be
A miracle in disguise.
The silence can be sometimes like a knife
When you see the pain in my eyes
Set me free, for you could be
A miracle in disguise.
Honorable Mention, Middle School
Jasmine Sparrow, Willow Creek Middle School, 8th grade
“Speak for Me”
Jasmine Sparrow, Willow Creek Middle School, 8th grade
“Speak for Me”
Speak or I shall be torn
Forever knowing what could have changed
Wishing to be lost in darkness
Remembering the death you have brought to me
My soul the one to die
Speak my friend
I need you now
Speak for me when I need a voice
My friend why do you hold your silence?
Speak or I shall be dead inside
I cannot seem to breathe
Help me and tell me what to do
I feel your silence more sharply then a blade
Speak or may you forever remember this day
When you could have saved me
From silence
The deading silence
The one that killed me
Forever knowing what could have changed
Wishing to be lost in darkness
Remembering the death you have brought to me
My soul the one to die
Speak my friend
I need you now
Speak for me when I need a voice
My friend why do you hold your silence?
Speak or I shall be dead inside
I cannot seem to breathe
Help me and tell me what to do
I feel your silence more sharply then a blade
Speak or may you forever remember this day
When you could have saved me
From silence
The deading silence
The one that killed me
First Place, High School
Sarah Leichty, John Marshall High School, 10th grade
“If the World Took a Breath”
Sarah Leichty, John Marshall High School, 10th grade
“If the World Took a Breath”
If the world took a breath,
and resolved to speak,
would it throw up its hands
and shout toward the weak?
The missing of moments
and good things not done
of speeches not spoken
and songs left unsung
of people left stranded
with nothing but fear
while faces of beings
held not but a leer.
Would it burst out in rage
and smite the timid
for slouching and hiding
while they are amid
the troubles of others
all broken and hurt
while not even faking
to appear alert
to avoid and avert
What good can that do?
The whole world shouts to us
who haven’t a clue.
What we do as people,
while housed on this Earth,
can make such a difference
and give some rebirth.
If we teach of standing,
proclaiming what’s right,
can we right what was wrong
and reduce the bite?
Of horrors of silence,
while terrors were done,
to take the voice away
from father and son,
from mother and daughter
stripped of a small right
like voting and marriage
what a vile sight.
To place all as equal
that is what they dream.
I hope if we stand up
we will form a team.
Our fight is not finished
steps have been undone.
If everyone stood up
Then nay would be none.
All over the whole world
this is my small plea
let’s hush the world’s shouting,
so all may be free.
and resolved to speak,
would it throw up its hands
and shout toward the weak?
The missing of moments
and good things not done
of speeches not spoken
and songs left unsung
of people left stranded
with nothing but fear
while faces of beings
held not but a leer.
Would it burst out in rage
and smite the timid
for slouching and hiding
while they are amid
the troubles of others
all broken and hurt
while not even faking
to appear alert
to avoid and avert
What good can that do?
The whole world shouts to us
who haven’t a clue.
What we do as people,
while housed on this Earth,
can make such a difference
and give some rebirth.
If we teach of standing,
proclaiming what’s right,
can we right what was wrong
and reduce the bite?
Of horrors of silence,
while terrors were done,
to take the voice away
from father and son,
from mother and daughter
stripped of a small right
like voting and marriage
what a vile sight.
To place all as equal
that is what they dream.
I hope if we stand up
we will form a team.
Our fight is not finished
steps have been undone.
If everyone stood up
Then nay would be none.
All over the whole world
this is my small plea
let’s hush the world’s shouting,
so all may be free.
Second Place, High School
Mara Smith, Century High School, 10th grade
“The Day My Eyes Were Opened”
Mara Smith, Century High School, 10th grade
“The Day My Eyes Were Opened”
The teacher got up, leaving the room.
A boy, sometimes quite different from others,
was minding his own business.
But, many others teased this boy,
calling him names and shooting rubber bands at him.
My friend and I glanced at each other.
I then made a snide comment to my friend;
the boy couldn’t hear it;
it wasn’t hurting him.
So what’s the harm?
I immediately expected an agreeing smirk back at me.
But, no.
Rather, my friend said,
“He gets enough rubbish from the other kids.
You don’t have to contribute just because they are.”
After this was said, my friend was dead silent,
saying nothing rude against the boy.
I was so taken aback that all I could manage to sputter was, “Sure.”
Later that evening, I sat and thought,
really thought, about what my friend had said.
It felt like my very own friend
had punched me in the gut with the comment!
I was the one of whom was made a fool! No one else, but me!
I was sick with guilt; I didn’t know what to do.
The next day, I went back to my friend and said,
“You know what I’ve discovered? You’re right.”
My friend asked, “What in the world are you talking about?”
I replied with, “Yesterday you stood up for the boy.
You did the right thing.
I had absolutely no right to make fun of him, just because others were.
Thank you for making me realize that.”
My friend said simply, “Oh, sure,”
shrugging off the situation, completely forgetting about it.
Little did my friend know that
I was inspired
by the actions shown
and the words spoken.
To stand up for one’s friend,
is an act of kindness.
To stand up for one you barely even know,
is better than kindness.
It’s an act of pure love.
From that day forward,
I was a completely
different
person.
Third Place, High School
Paige Schreifels, Century High School, 10th grade
“Broken”
Paige Schreifels, Century High School, 10th grade
“Broken”
Break your friend’s heart
Keep quiet, don’t stand up
Leave your friend in terror
Abused, unwanted, lost, crying
Keep quiet, don’t stand up
Leave your friend in terror
Abused, unwanted, lost, crying
Let rumors fly
Your friend will understand
Hiding, wishing, damaged
Your friend will understand
Hiding, wishing, damaged
Your heart won’t give you courage,
It will give you loneliness
Break your friend’s heart
It will give you loneliness
Break your friend’s heart
Honorable Mention, High School
Herchran Singh, John Marshall High School, 10th grade
“Martin Luther King, Jr. Said…”
Herchran Singh, John Marshall High School, 10th grade
“Martin Luther King, Jr. Said…”
Martin Luther King, Jr. said
“In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies,
But the silence of our friends.”
“In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies,
But the silence of our friends.”
In my mind this means,
Don’t bail on your friends,
Stay true ‘til life ends
Don’t bail on your friends,
Stay true ‘til life ends
I think of a time
When my friends bailed on me
When my friends bailed on me
A time when they laughed
With my worst enemy
With my worst enemy
I had been tripped by a boy,
He was a bully
He was a bully
And through my flood of tears,
Saddened, I could see
Saddened, I could see
My friends were laughing
And smiling with the rest
And smiling with the rest
I was in emotionally hurt
As I carefully stood
As I carefully stood
But for years I did
What I knew was not good
What I knew was not good
I had clung to those friends
For several years
For several years
They had bailed many times
And caused many tears
And caused many tears
But now in the present
I can gladly say
I can gladly say
I am happy with the friends
That I have today
That I have today
I hope you stand up
For your friends in need
For your friends in need
Go forth and help them,
Don’t just recede
Don’t just recede
Don’t be the one
To start all the violence
To start all the violence
And don’t be the one
To stand there in silence.
To stand there in silence.
Honorable Mention, High School
Jennifer Kim, Century High School, 10th grade
“The Visitor”
Jennifer Kim, Century High School, 10th grade
“The Visitor”
unwanted, unwarranted, unwelcome.
there is one short-but-eternal, uncertain-but-definite
moment
when our small universe freezes in
suspended silence—
the pencil lies unsharpened,
the paper a blank landscape.
he is not like us:
his eyes are two camera lenses,
just out of focus—
his hands
curious
are a pair of explorers
in a never-ending search for treasures new and exotic—
his mind is a child at play,
simply and sweetly.
in this single moment,
the citizens of our metropolis stare at the newcomer, their eyes
twin pools of pity and fear.
for the boy in the letter jacket and the girl with the pretty yellow skirt,
he is laughably different, hilariously foreign.
and so, the charm breaks and the torment begins.
scornful glares surround the friendly wanderer;
our microcosm of civilization
morphs into a murder of harsh-calling crows,
their caws mocking laughter.
retard, they call him.
mental.
stupid.
special. you know, special.
like hunted prey, he is trapped by their words.
and I stand quietly in the back,
mute as if I am blind and deaf to these blackbirds.
I wish I had taken his curious hands
and left them all behind.
I wish I had asked him to show us all
how to break the rules
how to be human
how to free ourselves.
I wish I had told him that he is
not retarded
not mental
not special.
he is just a boy.
NOTE: Credit for these exceptional poems goes to students in Rochester, MN who entered the 2011 Martin Luther King Jr. Poetry Contest with Diversity Council.org http://www.diversitycouncil.org/poetry_2011.shtml
1130 1/2 7th St NW, Suite 204 , Rochester, MN 55901 · Tel: 507.282.9951 · Fax: 507.282.9964 · info@diversitycouncil.org
Monday, February 7, 2011
UnMixed and Angry vs Mixed and Happy
A facebook page that I follow (Mixed and Happy) was recently attacked with negative, hateful comments. We know that there are people out there (and a lot of them) who think that us mixed folks are an abomination. Unfortunately, ignoring them and not giving them the time of day is easier said than done. But, arguing with them is truly pointless. Generally, they feel the way they feel and that is all there is to that. Could some of them be open to changing their minds… hmmm… possibly? In any case, in my humble opinion, the best way that we can launch a counterattack against those who shun our existence is to continue to advocate for who we are and our place in this world. And I am not just being an advocate for myself; not just an advocate for my daughter and for my family; I am also being an advocate for every other mixed person in the world who deserves to exist without being harassed, demeaned and devalued.
I would like to explore one comment that was made by an individual who does not support mixing races. While not a racist (of course!), he felt that mixing races is essentially a crime against God and nation. I wish I could explain, but I just don’t get it. Anyhow, in support of not mixing races he was concerned that doing so would be to obliterate the distinct characteristics of individual races/ethnicities. And why on earth would anyone want to do that?! Well, I am going to go out on a limb and say that no one is interested in obliterating any race. There is beauty in our diversity. And truthfully, the world has evolved over time and we all change in some way, but we seem to retain the unique characteristics associated with the multitudes of racial/ethnic backgrounds as well as culture and heritage. When races mix, there is pregnant opportunity to celebrate more of our diversity that we may not have embraced before. Some of us would do it anyway, but for some, the merging with another race is the motivation for expansion.
It is unfortunate that there are people in this world who feel the need to be so hateful. But, I think I feel more pity than anger. They are missing out on the richness of diversity and all the wonderful things it brings. I am thankful for facebook pages like Mixed and Happy. That is exactly what I am! And I will continue to be an advocate for other Mixed and Happies. Hate us or join us – we are the Highbred Nation and we are not going anywhere… check the 2010 Census!
Friday, January 21, 2011
Musings on Mixed Race
I have been noticing a movement. A rumble of indignation in the world. Many people are demanding to be acknowledged as Mixed Race... not Black and White or Asian and White... or... or...
I guess that is what I am wondering. Is the desire to be viewed within this specific category universal? I wonder if people who are half White experience this more than people who are half Black and something other than White. In my life, there was a momentary lapse of identity, but for the most part I always identified as Black. My Korean identity was never nurtured or developed. It was not difficult to avoid an identity struggle when one half of my identity lurked in the shadows. I really only experienced one really difficult time in my life as a person caught between two worlds - the LA riots. I had to defend Blacks to Koreans and Koreans to Blacks. I am thankful that episode was short lived and not very traumatic. So, based on my experience, I wonder what it is like for others like me - the Black/not-White biracial folks. Is it easier to identify as Black? Or are they feeling what (it seems) many Black/White or Asian/White or other White/??? are feeling? A desire to embrace a Mixed Race identity rather than identifying more with one race or the other or with asserting that one is half of this and half of that.
I'm inclined to think that the experience is different for those of us who are not half White. I think that there is a lot more baggage for those who are. Especially if they are Black/White. For me, there just wasn't a history of one half of my heritage having oppressed the other half of my heritage. I honestly never really gave it much thought until I started reading more about the assertion of a Mixed Race identity. Perhaps it really does represent a new way of looking at race. Perhaps it is a way that we can honor the richness of heritage without focusing on the baggage that comes with it. In counseling there is the idea of the creation of the New; creating a new story (Ivey, Ivey & Zalaquett, 2010). In America, in the world, this is the creation of a new story. It is a new way of looking at race. Eventually we will be so intertwined within races, ethnicities and cultures that the only practical way to identify will be 'Mixed Race.'
The truth is that despite the similarities of our many stories, we each experience mixed race identities in different ways. Everyone has a unique experience. While I identify as Black, I am very proud to be half Korean. I am always looking for ways to infuse Korean culture into my life and now into my daughter's life. I am biracial. My daughter is multiracial. We are Mixed Race. We are part of the Highbred Nation. And our numbers are growing. I hope the world is ready to get with the program.
Ivey, A., Ivey, M. & Zalaquett, C. (2010). Intentional Interviewing and Counseling (p. 240). Belmont: Brooks/Cole.
I guess that is what I am wondering. Is the desire to be viewed within this specific category universal? I wonder if people who are half White experience this more than people who are half Black and something other than White. In my life, there was a momentary lapse of identity, but for the most part I always identified as Black. My Korean identity was never nurtured or developed. It was not difficult to avoid an identity struggle when one half of my identity lurked in the shadows. I really only experienced one really difficult time in my life as a person caught between two worlds - the LA riots. I had to defend Blacks to Koreans and Koreans to Blacks. I am thankful that episode was short lived and not very traumatic. So, based on my experience, I wonder what it is like for others like me - the Black/not-White biracial folks. Is it easier to identify as Black? Or are they feeling what (it seems) many Black/White or Asian/White or other White/??? are feeling? A desire to embrace a Mixed Race identity rather than identifying more with one race or the other or with asserting that one is half of this and half of that.
I'm inclined to think that the experience is different for those of us who are not half White. I think that there is a lot more baggage for those who are. Especially if they are Black/White. For me, there just wasn't a history of one half of my heritage having oppressed the other half of my heritage. I honestly never really gave it much thought until I started reading more about the assertion of a Mixed Race identity. Perhaps it really does represent a new way of looking at race. Perhaps it is a way that we can honor the richness of heritage without focusing on the baggage that comes with it. In counseling there is the idea of the creation of the New; creating a new story (Ivey, Ivey & Zalaquett, 2010). In America, in the world, this is the creation of a new story. It is a new way of looking at race. Eventually we will be so intertwined within races, ethnicities and cultures that the only practical way to identify will be 'Mixed Race.'
The truth is that despite the similarities of our many stories, we each experience mixed race identities in different ways. Everyone has a unique experience. While I identify as Black, I am very proud to be half Korean. I am always looking for ways to infuse Korean culture into my life and now into my daughter's life. I am biracial. My daughter is multiracial. We are Mixed Race. We are part of the Highbred Nation. And our numbers are growing. I hope the world is ready to get with the program.
Ivey, A., Ivey, M. & Zalaquett, C. (2010). Intentional Interviewing and Counseling (p. 240). Belmont: Brooks/Cole.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Another Perspective on Raising a Biracial Child
I read an article in Harper's Bazaar by Nandini D'Souza, who like me is a mother to a biracial daughter (http://www.harpersbazaar.com/magazine/feature-articles/raising-mixed-race-children-0810). It is always interesting to be privy to someone else's story - especially one so near and dear to me. Nandini is Indian American and her husband is Irish/German American. Their beautiful daughter favored the father more in complexion and the result for Nandini has been interesting. In her experience, others have brazenly questioned her tie to her child; others have assumed her role as a caregiver; others have ignored her in favor of addressing her husband; others have snapped at her as she parented. I was dumbfounded reading about this. She shared that she initially tried to be understanding, but eventually became aggravated and embarrassed any questioners, and then finally seemed to gain a better sense of how to navigate the murky waters of how others viewed her and her relationship with her daughter.
While I am surprised that I have not had her experience, I am enormously thankful. I can't say for sure how I would respond if someone were to assume that I were Bella's nanny. I am not sure how sensitive and understanding I would be to someones lack of ability to be open minded or show care in their inquiries. Bella is only 20 months, so I still have plenty of time to find out. It was good for me to read Nandini's article; to know about her experience and how she handled it. I think it will help me as I navigate the murky waters of how others might view me and my relationship with my daughter. Perhaps I have already been sized up and questioned, but maybe the inquirer employed tact and discretion so that I remained unaware.
I guess I get it. I get that people are curious. But I also think that we all have a responsibility to be appropriate; to not be offensive. I need to use my words just as carefully as the next person. In a world where biracial and multiracial is becoming more and more normal, individuals need to learn to understand and accept that families look different today than from years ago. Nandini and her family are a part of the Highbred Nation and I like how she described the differences of her own brother's biracial children: "It's the difference between fluffernutter, peanut butter, and Nutella. All different flavors, but all tasty." Well said!
While I am surprised that I have not had her experience, I am enormously thankful. I can't say for sure how I would respond if someone were to assume that I were Bella's nanny. I am not sure how sensitive and understanding I would be to someones lack of ability to be open minded or show care in their inquiries. Bella is only 20 months, so I still have plenty of time to find out. It was good for me to read Nandini's article; to know about her experience and how she handled it. I think it will help me as I navigate the murky waters of how others might view me and my relationship with my daughter. Perhaps I have already been sized up and questioned, but maybe the inquirer employed tact and discretion so that I remained unaware.
I guess I get it. I get that people are curious. But I also think that we all have a responsibility to be appropriate; to not be offensive. I need to use my words just as carefully as the next person. In a world where biracial and multiracial is becoming more and more normal, individuals need to learn to understand and accept that families look different today than from years ago. Nandini and her family are a part of the Highbred Nation and I like how she described the differences of her own brother's biracial children: "It's the difference between fluffernutter, peanut butter, and Nutella. All different flavors, but all tasty." Well said!
Friday, January 7, 2011
Princesses and Baby Dolls
One of the best things about the holiday season involved the thoughtful gifts that my daughter Isabella received from friends and family who love her so much. I'd like to share two of these very thoughtful gifts that will contribute to her openness and understanding of the highbred nation...
One gift from Isabella's grandmother (affectionately known as 'Mimi') was this darling little doll from Corolle. Calin Yang is a 12" doll with Asian features. Isabella has dolls with White or Black or Latina features, but this is her first Asian doll! I am really excited about the growing diversity of her collection of babies. Currently, she is equally excited about them all.
This is the Calin Yang doll from Corolle. Corolle
Target
While Bella looks very different now, she looked a lot like this doll when she was born.
My sweet girl the day she was born: May 2, 2009. The best day ever!
Bella's aunt Kim (one of my close friends) gave her a wonderful book called: Do Princesses Have Best Friends Forever?
Amazon
This is a really sweet book about best friends who have a playdate and do all kinds of fun and cool stuff. It is not super girly, even though they are princesses. It shows that girls can do whatever - princesses can get muddy and build stuff and have adventures and be good friends. And I especially love that they just happen to be a little pink girl and a little brown girl - because princesses are diverse too!
I am so glad that we have people in our lives who will nourish Isabella's hybrid world.
One gift from Isabella's grandmother (affectionately known as 'Mimi') was this darling little doll from Corolle. Calin Yang is a 12" doll with Asian features. Isabella has dolls with White or Black or Latina features, but this is her first Asian doll! I am really excited about the growing diversity of her collection of babies. Currently, she is equally excited about them all.
Target
While Bella looks very different now, she looked a lot like this doll when she was born.
Bella's aunt Kim (one of my close friends) gave her a wonderful book called: Do Princesses Have Best Friends Forever?
This is a really sweet book about best friends who have a playdate and do all kinds of fun and cool stuff. It is not super girly, even though they are princesses. It shows that girls can do whatever - princesses can get muddy and build stuff and have adventures and be good friends. And I especially love that they just happen to be a little pink girl and a little brown girl - because princesses are diverse too!
I am so glad that we have people in our lives who will nourish Isabella's hybrid world.
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