After being subject to a racist rant this afternoon, it's about time I write about my life.
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I have had a complex relationship with race since the day I was born. Like I've stated many times before, I'm adopted. What does my adoption have to do with my race? Pretty much everything. It wasn't specified on my paperwork what the race of my biological father was; therefore, we don't really know for sure what my racial background is. My parents were able to meet my biological mother in the hospital and she was white so we know I'm at least half white. This lack of certainty has been the key aspect of my relationship with race.
I have known I was adopted ever since I can remember so I always knew that I didn't look like my parents. I knew I wouldn't have my dad's eyes or my mom's nose. Nonetheless you guys wanna know the first realization I had that I didn't look like my parents? I was in first grade, learning about Ruby Bridges. For those of you who don't know who that is (which you should), she was the first black student integrated into a white school. At the end of the lesson on her life and her integration my teacher said to the class "if it wasn't for Ruby Bridges, McKinley wouldn't be able to go to this school." I vividly remember that. I was so confused, I thought to myself "what is she talking about, why wouldn't I be able to go to this school?" Like every first grader, I went home and told my parents, asking them what she meant. It was that comment that put things in perspective for me. I didn't look like my parents, not because I wasn't related to them, but because I was a different color than them. I was a six year old.
For years, I can remember walking around the mall with my mom or my family members hoping that they wouldn't shop til they dropped. Without fail, someone would stop whoever I was with and say "wow, she's so beautiful, so exotic looking." I would sheepishly smile and my mom would say thanks and walk away. Now I know that people only called me exotic because I have dark skin, curly hair and blue eyes. I was exotic because I didn't look white, but I didn't look fully black either. Let me tell you one thing, I am not exotic. I am not a vacation destination. I am not a museum piece. I am not foreign. If you see someone who looks "exotic" to you, do not call them that. Just don't.
Now comes a very touchy subject for me. My hair. For most of my life I had no idea what to do with my frizzy, unruly and mane-like curls. I didn't have any family members who had hair like mine. My mother, in no fault of her own, did her very best to make my hair presentable yet to no avail. My mom and I struggled for years and years with my curls. RIP to all of the hairbrushes broken in my hair. Much to my relief, when I was old enough, I got a straightener and began the process of destroying my hair. I would straighten my hair on Sunday then on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday I would touch up the pieces that began to curl back up. Luckily for me, I don't have hair that gets oily so I wouldn't wash my hair until Friday after school, then I would put it in a bun on Saturday and Sunday I would spend a minimum of two hours straightening it again.
Why did I spend two hours every Sunday for YEARS straightening my hair? No one at my school had hair like me. The pretty and popular girls in my class had stick straight, bleach blonde hair. I wanted to be as similar to them as possible so I killed my hair to be "pretty." If that isn't sad, I don't know what is.
Praise Jesus that I found a hair stylist who taught me how to love my hair and I have embraced my frizzy, unruly and mane-like curls ever since.
By this time, you're thinking "hmmm, is this story over yet?" NOPE. There's so much more.
On a weekly basis, I am asked "what race are you?" "are you mixed?" "are you black?" "what are you?" "what ethnicity are you?" In all honesty, these questions don't bother me a whole lot, but if I had a dollar for every time I've been asked about my race I would have a solid $5000 in my savings account. It's absurd. I used to take it as a compliment, but I was uneducated back then. What people really want to know when they ask me what race I am is what category can they put me in. How can I most easily fit into the label they want to put on me. There's no reason anyone needs to know my race, it's not pertain information, but because I look mixed, I look black, people must know so that they feel more comfortable.
You know what's funny to me? The fact that the one drop rule that we learned about in history class still VERY MUCH applies. I look black, therefore, I am black. That's my reality. Society doesn't see McKinley, the transracially adopted girl. They see someone who doesn't easily fit into the white category, or the black category, or the hispanic category, or any category so it confuses everyone. Most people already assume I'm black before they ask. I have fought through and struggled with my racial identity not only because I don't know my background but also because society has forced that struggle upon me. I am black and I am proud.
I have said in the past, that I will never speak as if I know the harsh realities of racism because I don't. I live a complex racial life, but the vast majority of the time I don't experience the negatives that the black community faces. Today was different.
Today, I had a conversation with a man who told me that he is disgusted with black men and women in the US and that black countries and cultures are inferior. He wholeheartedly believes that blacks are lazy, dishonest and inferior. He assured me that he's not a racist because he will employ anyone regardless of their skin color. Over the course of the conversation, my intellect, education, gender, age, and race were all attacked and belittled. I was speaking with a 72 year old white man, who studied for 14 years and has published a handful of books. I am a 22 year old, mixed, female who went to college for four years, therefore, ALL of my comments were dismissed. This man is a Christian and self-professing non-racist. It was mind blowing to me that he still maintains that blacks are inferior. What he doesn't realize, and what I was too flustered to educate him on is that he is in fact a racist. The definition of racism according to Merriam Webster is: "a belief that race is the primary determinant of human traits and capacities and that racial differences produce an inherent superiority of a particular race" by stating that he believes blacks are inferior, he is in turn, emphasizing his own superiority. He's a racist.
Ladies and gents, racism is alive and well in this country. Unless you live under a rock, you should know that. I am an out-spoken person regardless of the subject. That being said, I will not be silent about the injustice I encounter, but that others encounter so much more. I tell my stories so that racism and the realities of mixed-life hit home for you. It can be hard to understand that racism isn't a big grandiose idea, but something that impacts the lives of millions of people, even people you call friends.
