Mixed Up
I didn’t start getting questions like “What are you” and “Are you an Oreo?” till I hit middle school, 6th grade to be exact. The first time I got asked these questions was from a young boy in my grade. I was confused as to what he was trying to ask me but I answered with “what do you mean? I’m a girl, I’m me”. That answer did not service so he asked me again “No. What race are you?” So I told him my mom was white and dad was black, then he kind of looked at me blackly and said “Oh ok cool” and then walked away. When I got to high school the questions and statements became more frequent like “Why don’t you act black?” “You’re the whites black person I know”. I truly hate when people I don’t know and even my friends try to tell me who I should be and how I should act because of the color of my skin. I believe in me and who I am and not changing to what society’s standards thinks I should become.
Growing up with a white mother and a black father has so far truly been an experience. Growing up as a kid I lived with my mom and my dad was around that much (yep black stereo type the father never being around) but that was because he lived in a different county and I was being shared between my parents. So day to day life was a little harder on my mom then most suburban moms. …show more content…
I swear my mom used every product in the house to try to tame the frizz. When I went to school I was confused why I couldn’t have hair like the other little white girls in my class. One day I came home and asked my mom why i didn’t have hair like the some other girls in my class and she told me my hair was “special” but after our talk I become jealous of other girls hair I wish it could be effortless. And today it takes me almost a two hour to blow dry my
I didn’t start getting questions like “What are you” and “Are you an Oreo?” till I hit middle school, 6th grade to be exact. The first time I got asked these questions was from a young boy in my grade. I was confused as to what he was trying to ask me but I answered with “what do you mean? I’m a girl, I’m me”. That answer did not service so he asked me again “No. What race are you?” So I told him my mom was white and dad was black, then he kind of looked at me blackly and said “Oh ok cool” and then walked away. When I got to high school the questions and statements became more frequent like “Why don’t you act black?” “You’re the whites black person I know”. I truly hate when people I don’t know and even my friends try to tell me who I should be and how I should act because of the color of my skin. I believe in me and who I am and not changing to what society’s standards thinks I should become.
Growing up with a white mother and a black father has so far truly been an experience. Growing up as a kid I lived with my mom and my dad was around that much (yep black stereo type the father never being around) but that was because he lived in a different county and I was being shared between my parents. So day to day life was a little harder on my mom then most suburban moms. …show more content…
I swear my mom used every product in the house to try to tame the frizz. When I went to school I was confused why I couldn’t have hair like the other little white girls in my class. One day I came home and asked my mom why i didn’t have hair like the some other girls in my class and she told me my hair was “special” but after our talk I become jealous of other girls hair I wish it could be effortless. And today it takes me almost a two hour to blow dry my