One day, my white friends exclaimed very proudly that they didn’t have black friends. I spoke up, reminding them that I was half black. Their response was that they didn’t see me as black. They said I didn’t “talk black” or “dress black” or “look black,” therefore I wasn’t black. That’s when it hit me: I am what people see me as. I can present myself a million different ways, all true and authentic to who I am, but if someone (whether a passerby or an acquaintance) doesn’t see me that way, they will change me to fit a mold that they can justify.
