By SheelaR

Things every mixed person will understand…

I am the product of an “African American” mother and “Irish American” father. It doesn’t make me unique, it simply makes me a riddle wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma… but only for some people. I’ve struggled with how to define myself, and I’ve settled on not doing it. My own father has struggled with how he sees me. He refuses to refer to me as “mixed” or “black.” I think that might have added to my early years of being racially confused. I don’t think he was prepared to raise a “mixed” child and deal with all the complexities involved in it. He’ often said that all he sees is “his sunshine.” In a world full of labels, he didn’t want to label his only child. He wanted me to grow up free of that. What a lovely idea… Unfortunately, we live in a world that is consumed with labeling or pigeonholing people.

My take… it is not your place or responsibility to define how I see myself. My very first encounter with ignorance occurred with my well-meaning Irish granny, who, at some point seemed confused by the idea of “mixed-race” people. My coloring was more or less of a mystery to her. She expected me to be darker, she honestly didn’t know any better… However, she would redeem herself by saying that I had the best of both worlds, which included my messy head of hair. She was and still is, the best granny ever.  She’s just a tad ignorant about all things related to “race.”

Life has been filled with moments where I’m explaining my existence to the curious. I’m generally not offended. I’ve always seen it as an opportunity to open some eyes. Unfortunately, not all those moments were good ones. Some people are highly offended at the very idea of “race mixing.” Some are willfully ignorant, asserting that I’m nothing more than a “black” girl, a half-breed, a mutt or and a host of other offensive terms.  That’s their own insecurity about who they are at work. Trying to relegate me to particular category makes them feel good about themselves.

Stop asking me what I am. I’m human first, start there. No, I’m not exotic. I am, however, midwestern born and raised. Nope, I have no Native American ancestry that would explain my hair and bone structure. However, you might find it interesting to know that my black grandfather, is the product of a black mother and an Italian father. There, more confusion for you.

And then there are those who think that I was raised in a trailer park. I have to say, that always elicits several giggles from me. I think I was raised by a single white-trash mother, who was abandoned by my black father. You don’t have all the answers. People of mixed race/ethnic heritages, have different upbringings, just like everyone else. We don’t all come from the same mixed bag of nuts.  Pun intended.

Us “mixed people” would also appreciate if you stopped asking us what we like to eat. It might surprise you to know this, but some of us will eat just about anything you plate. No lie. Although, I must say, I do love Italian food. It’s probably a big fat coincidence. My grandfather was raised like most “black” people of his generation, on “soul food.”

The next time you meet a “mixie,” just love and embrace us like you would any other. We are no different and would prefer to be known and appreciated beyond how we look or our ethnic affiliation. I feel no need to constantly define who or what I am. I’m just Sheelagh. That is all anyone needs to know.