Multi-cultural, mixed, bi-racial, two or more races, blended ……those are some of the words we often hear to describe people that are mixed with different races. We see mixed couples and children everywhere. Diversity has become the new normal.

Oreo, N….., white girl wanna-be, or what exactly are you? Those are the words I heard growing up. Although the multicultural world today is more accepting of us, it doesn’t discount the fact that we still continue to search for the box that fits our identity. This may not be a problem for everyone but I can definitely speak for me.

All of my life I searched for something, somewhere to fit, to belong. I grew up in predominately white neighborhoods. My mother tried so hard to give us a better life by living in areas that had good schools and nice homes. The areas she picked were less diverse than the one she moved to my junior year.

For me, it really did not matter when I lived, my story was the same.

I had curly black hair during the time when Bo Derek and Farah Fawcett were running down the beach with their beautiful blond hair blowing in the wind. My face covered in freckles, full lips, and tan skin. I didn’t fit the typical look in the neighborhood I was living in.

My parents lived in two different states so I would grow up in two different worlds. One white and one Black, intertwined with multiracial relationships and hidden stories of trauma and deceit. My mother, the blond European, Irish girl would beg me to check the black box, hoping the minority advantages would come my way. My father’s preaching a promised life I could have by embracing my white side, meanwhile not shielding me from the deceit and secrets that would make an emotional impact later in my life, much deeper than the racial struggle.

There was so much going on in my world as a young adult and I felt broken, ashamed and disconnected.

I hid behind my personal struggle; I would lie about my true identity and tried so hard to blend into the environments I encountered. I would hang out with my white friends who didn’t consider me black and my black friends begged me to drop the valley girl accent and dive into my destiny. Choices, choices. I was overwhelmed, confused, emotionally shattered, and longing for a life where I wasn’t different! I didn’t want to choose a side.

I am both black and white and culturally dissatisfied. Where would I belong?

I prayed to God to find myself, to reveal my identity. What would it be? Would I fit into the white community? Would I blend into the black culture and could I meet the expectations of each? Funny, how all of those thought ran through my mind. Where did I belong?

Today, times have changed but the experience is still fresh. You see, I am the OTHER, I am black, I am white, I am both, I am mixed, I am saved and I am loved. It was hard, hard to find my place. I was searching in the infinity circle of choice, the circle that would never end.

I do not need to pick a side to love who I am.

I embraced the struggle to release the butterfly. I had to see the beauty in both worlds. I refused to be backed against the wall, picking a box.

I value my creation and blessed to have the opportunity to experience both worlds. I am thankful for the grace I received for my wiliness to submit.

I do think it would be nice to have a box that describes my cultural blend but that is the best part…… I am unique, I am willing, I am loved and I am creatively designed, just as all of us are. Those are the words I hear now and bring me to a place of peace……….and there is not a box for that.