What Are You?

Ever since I was a little girl, I have been asked the question, “What are you?” When it started at school, I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t have the words for this question. My Dad would tell me, “I’m black which makes you black.” My Mom would say, “Well she is black, but she is also white. So, she should say that she’s biracial.” 

 

Biracial? I had no idea what that word meant at 6. The closest thing I had to it was, “bicycle.” Two wheels, two different things, together. 

 

90% of the time, I am asked this question by strangers, people I have just met. Being asked this question hundreds of times, started to hurt and make me wonder. Why are we asking the question? Does knowing my background make you feel differently about me? Will it change the way you interact with me? Why do you want to know?

 

Because I am not white enough and not black enough, there is no box I can fit into.  

 

This piece is about addressing the question, “What Are You?” and why we feel the need ask it.