Mixed Girl Problems

I was military brat. That one statement should explain a lot. I moved around a lot, made friends with all kinds of people. The schools I went to had a good mix of ethnicities. I can honestly say that I was blessed to have the opportunity to meet and make friends with children that were different from me. Race was not a factor for me or any of the other kids. You ever notice that when you're in elementary school, everyone is your friend? What happens when you get to middle school? The first year is a breeze, friendships are still the same, but then halfway through middle school you start to notice a divide. The white girl and her brother that you used to walk to and from school with, no longer come by your house on the way to school to walk with you. The Asian girl that you used to eat lunch with no longer sits at the same table with you. The black girls that you used to joke around with in the locker room, now whisper among themselves. The Puerto Rican and Mexican friends that you played outside with during recess no longer talk to each other. You know what's so crazy? I was singled out of every group. I didn't belong.

I noticed the changes, but to me it was not a big deal. I didn't care what you ethnicity was. Everyone was human, just like me, right? Wrong! I don't know how what made them change from friend to foe or just a plain stranger in the course of one summer. Kids came back in their in little clicks. Blacks with blacks, whites with whites, Asian with Asian, etc... Every now and then you'd see the black click of girls "adopt" a white girl into there group because she might talk like them and act like them or you'd see the "proper valley girl" black chick that hangs out with the "Becky's." You see, I'm mixed. My mom was born in Franc. She had blonde hair, blue eyes, etc... You know? She was a white woman. My father was African-American. The combination of these two people blessed me with honey colored skin and big soft curls. I was often mistaken for Hispanic. I remember the first time I got in trouble in school.

I was in the seventh grade and I was just getting out of P.E. A girl named Destiny called me a nigger. Of course I took offense to it and I beat her up. Remember I said that it was my first time getting in trouble in school, not my first fight. Well, long story short, the girl ran to the office, my mom was called and they suspended me because I should have just walked away when she called me a nigger. People were shocked to see this short, blond haired, blue eyed woman come to the school on my behalf. They could not believe that my mother was white. My friends that saw her walk into the school would ask, "You're mom is white?!" And my response would be, "Uh, yeah! Does it matter?"

Now let's rewind to my first fight. This was in the late 80s, around 1988 or 1989. We were stationed in Germany. I was in elementary school. A group of black girls would pick on me. They would either push me in line or pull on my long hair. I think they were jealous, because I had never done anything to them for them to be acting the way they did towards me. I would go home crying to my mom everyday until she finally got tired of it. See, I was a bus rider and the girls were walkers. I'll never forget what my mom told me. It went something like this, "Tomorrow, do not get on the bus. You walk up that hill and you beat up the girl that's been messing with you. Make an example out of her and the rest will leave you alone. If you don't, I will whoop your ass myself." I guess she grew tired of these girls picking on her daughter and decided the beating up the ring leader would make it stop.

I always feared that I would get in trouble if I hit these girls back or got into a fight at school. When my mom gave me the green light to fight back, I did just that. I put a beat down on that girl. All the pent up anger came flowing out of me. I tell you one thing, I never had a problem out of her or her friends after that. My mom taught me a valuable lesson. Never start a fight, but don't let anyone put their hands you. If someone hits you, you hit them back! I was picked on for the color of my skin, the softness of my hair, the width of my nose. I was not accepted by the whites or blacks. I had friends, but a lot of the kids felt that I didn't belong. I was called a "mutt" on some many occasions that it got old to me. It's kind of like I grew a thick skin to the word "mutt." The question, "What are you mixed with" would be asked and I'd proudly answer the question. Then it would always be followed with," You're a mutt". Adults have called me this too.

People thought it was funny or there was nothing wrong with referring to me as a dog. Just look up the definition of mutt. Mutt: a person regarded as stupid or incompetent. Mutt: a dog, especially a mongrel. Sometimes I was even called a house nigga just because my skin was lighter. Now, tell me this isn't disrespectful and degrading. There was also the occasional, "She thinks she's cute cause she has good hair." Good hair? Exactly what is your definition of good hair? I hate my hair. It's thick and I can't use white or black hair products in my hair. White hair products make my scalp flake and black hair products are too heavy for my hair. It's not east being me, trust me! I would find myself longing to be either just white or just black. I grew tired of being caught in between. Especially now with all the racial tension. I have to argue with long time friends about black pride and white pride. I see nothing wrong with either one.

Everyone should have pride in what they are. There is nothing wrong with that. My problem is when you bring hate into the equation. Now that I am older, I am proud of what I am. I have both white and black pride. I choose love and not hate. I do not tolerate racism from blacks or whites. I take it very personal when someone talks bad about white people, because my mother is white. I take it very personal when people talk about blacks, because my father is black. I find myself fighting a continuous battle between this racial divide that we have in America. I'm stuck in the middle. The alt right looks at me as an abomination. They are totally against the races mixing. They would probably spit on my white mother just for having mixed children and a black husband. They scream that they are proud Americans, but would throw racial slurs at my father who fought in the military to protect their rights like freedom of speech. I see this every day! I see it from both ends. I have seen and heard some awful things. I've been treated like scum from both ends, just because of what I am and what I represent. So now, when someone calls me a mutt... when someone criticizes what I am (black and white)... when someone asks my opinion on racism, I tell them that I love everyone one. I tell them that I love the human race. Being biracial in America is both a blessing and a curse. There is no way to escape it, I was born this way. Now, that I know what I know and if I had the opportunity to pick my race before I was born, I wouldn't change anything about me. I have the best of both worlds. A lot of people don't see it that way, but I'm sure that a lot of biracial people can relate to my story.

There are more pressing issues to deal with and we all need to come together, because we will need each other to get through it. I'm hoping there are people like me, black, white, Asian, Hispanic and in between that can bridge that gap. So the next time you here the word "mutt" being used towards a human being, or you use the word "mutt" to define a human being, please keep this story and my views in mind.