What Being Biracial has Taught me About Racism
<p>My mom was Mexican and my dad white (of English origin but think more yee-haw). My dad was absent for most of my childhood due to his struggle with Meth addiction and so I was mainly raised by my mom. My mom made sure to remind me frequently that my whiteness annoyed her. She would call me a “white girl” in a snarky tone or make fun of me for not being as dark skinned when it wasn’t the summer months and I had a glowing tan. This was quite a confusing insult as my mom only dated white guys, so I’m not sure why she was so appalled by me. Maybe she was wrestling with her own identity too. She told me about how my dad was involved in a white gang in his teens and my child brain didn’t really know how to process that. All I knew was that there was something wrong with me being both Mexican and white. I didn’t feel accepted anywhere.</p>
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