You see my family is the definition of America

a melting pot of culture and race

I happened to find myself right in the middle

Between black and white

Between “My n****” and “Hello there, young man”

Sometimes I look in the mirror and ask what I am

I see my caramel skin that reflects a different ethnicity every day

But thank God for that one kid who reminds what colour I am

“What’s up blackie? Oh, my bad, half blackie. Hey, hey you only get to celebrate the first fourteen days of black history month. You know, because you’re half black?”

Really?

I can’t praise my ancestors for fighting the racism that ruled most of their lives?

I can’t celebrate my grandmother who marched for the rights I take for granted?

I can’t appreciate where I come from because I’m mixed?

No

You see, I learned both sides of the racial divide

I’ve been blessed as both the slave and the master

I know I’m white because I can step into an audition and not worry about my skin colour taking roles away from me

I know I’m white because I live in the ‘burbs, I get a good education

I know I’m white because I can write my name on an application and actually get a response

Some people kill to get half of what I got

But even with that privilege I know I’m black.

I know I’m black because of the looks I get when I drive through a rich, white neighbourhood

I know I’m black because of the way that woman gripped her bag the minute I stepped into that elevator

I know I’m black because of the police officer that trailed my car all the way from the intersection to my parking space

For those of you that don’t understand, I’ll simplify it for you

I’m white because I am confident

I’m black because I’m afraid