Why Am I Unapologetically Proud To Be Biracial

In this heartfelt post, I share my journey as a biracial girl and the growth, resilience, and self-acceptance that have made me proud of who I am today.

Have you watched Mixed-ish? If you need more time, let me give you a quick summary of the show. Mixed-ish tells how Rainbow “Bow” Johnson grew up in a mixed-race family in the 80s and the dilemmas she faced as a biracial girl. I love this show for many reasons. The main one is that I can relate to Bow as a fellow biracial woman. She talks about how she often felt insecure and unsure about her place because she was African American and Caucasian. However, she also talks about how people went out of their way to ensure she knew that she didn’t belong to either racial community.

As a biracial girl, I often experienced feelings of alienation growing up due to my mixed heritage. Being both a black woman and a Hispanic woman, I felt caught between two worlds, facing challenges that many people couldn’t fully understand. It’s taken time and self-reflection to fully grasp how this has impacted my identity and sense of belonging. Now that I’m older, it’s crucial for me to openly and honestly discuss how my mixed heritage has shaped my experiences, both the struggles and the beauty that comes with it. By sharing my story, I hope to shed light on the complexities of being biracial and raise awareness about the importance of embracing and celebrating diversity. Through these conversations, we can foster understanding and acceptance, creating a more inclusive society where everyone feels seen and valued for who they are.

My Ancedote On Being Biracial

The Early Years: Being The Only Biracial Child

Growing up, I experience the same dilemmas as Bow. As a Puerto Rican and Black girl, I was taught to be unapologetically proud to be biracial. However, that cannot be easy when adults and peers constantly question you.

Yes, even in the early 2000s, people still acted like being biracial was a crime. 

As a child, I was often bullied to feel insecure about everything, from my hair to who I was. I remember kids telling me I could not be black since my skin was white. At the same time, I could not hang out with the Hispanic kids because I didn’t know how to speak Spanish.

Whenever my mom went to my school, they would give me a hard time not walking out with strangers. Despite seeing her so often, teachers and students still wouldn’t accept that I had a black mom. I don’t think my mom noticed or didn’t care because she knew their words meant nothing. But, at the time, it meant something to me.

Often, children and some adults would go out of their way to say cruel things to little me. For years, I heard the same phrases.

• “Why is your hair like that?” 
•  “Is that your mom? Wow, I didn’t know you were black.” 
•  “Why do you sound so white?”
•  “Are you sure that’s your mom?”
•  “Just because she’s black doesn’t mean you’re black.”
•  “Real Spanish people speak Spanish.”

These perceived perceptions, comments, and ignorance did not get any better as I got older.

Identity Crisis

As a high schooler, I experienced the same identity crisis as Bow regarding my biracial heritage. I tried to force myself to fit into every group I could find. I wanted to be as peppy and “white” as the Caucasian girls. I wanted to be fabulous and famous like the black girls, and I tried Jajaja with the Hispanics (I went to an all-girls school).

But, no matter what I did, the girls still treated me like I was less than them. The only time my race mattered was if someone asked me about it. It got to a point where I was uncomfortable speaking about who I was and where I was from because I wanted the other girls to like me.

If I was asked, “Where are you from?” or “What’s your nationality?” I’d often avoid the question or pretend I didn’t hear it. Finally, it got to the point where I cried on my mother’s couch because I felt like I didn’t belong anywhere. She’d often tell me to ignore it, but being who I was wasn’t easy.

I compared myself to the other girls a lot. I kept asking for my hair to be permed, for my mom to stop giving me hand-me-downs and forced myself to behave how everyone wanted me to.

Learning To Love The Biracial Skin I’m In

I learned to be proud because I watched my mother do it for me. She is why I proudly represent who I am, regardless of what people think. So let me tell you what happened.

The incident started when my eleventh-grade English teacher at high school asked me to tame my hair and attitude because she felt I was pretending to be someone I was not. She explained that she didn’t want me going on a trip to Motown looking “raggedy.”

I explained to her that my sweater was old and that my mother couldn’t afford a new one then. She responded, “Don’t pretend to be struggling when actual girls are struggling.” At this point, I was almost in tears because I knew my family situation, but she accused me of lying. I kept telling them about my multiple siblings and our financial situation, but she wouldn’t let me get one word out.

The last thing I remember her saying is, “The school sweater doesn’t cost a lot. It shouldn’t be hard to get one. Don’t come on the trip looking like that.” as she pointed to my afro and patched-up sweater.

I went home and cried that day. I told my mother everything, and she pulled up the next day in a white t-shirt, hair tied up, and jeans, ready to beat the teacher. Instead, she went straight to the principal and told her she would call the news if she didn’t do something.

Afterward, she had a long conversation with the teacher about her ignorance. She told her she’s been trying to teach me to love myself. My mother pointed out the irony of another black woman belittling a girl because she was light-skinned and mixed.

Being Unapologetically Proud

That day, I changed everything. I felt more comfortable speaking about myself and went to college with no regrets. I joined the newspaper and worked hard to appreciate who I am and what I have. I never allowed anyone else to bring my self-esteem as low as the teacher and the people before her have. Now, I wear my mixed heritage proudly. I am half black and half Puerto Rican; nothing can change that. So, why should I care about what anyone else thinks?

Since high school, I’ve been on a journey of self-care and love and learning how to rediscover the truth of who I am.

I am incredibly proud of my biracial heritage because it represents the beautiful merging of two distinct cultures and backgrounds. Being biracial allows me to embrace the richness and diversity of both sides of my family, creating a unique tapestry that shapes my identity. I can experience the traditions, languages, and customs of two different worlds, giving me a broader perspective and understanding of humanity. My biracial heritage has taught me the value of acceptance, empathy, and the ability to bridge gaps between different communities. It has also given me a chance to celebrate the beauty of diversity and challenge societal norms that seek to divide us when it comes to loving ourselves. By embracing and celebrating my biracial identity, I am honoring my ancestors and paving the way for future generations to celebrate their diverse heritages with pride.

Final Thoughts

It is essential to be proud of who you are and embrace every aspect of your being, regardless of how others perceive or judge you. We are unique, with our heritage, experiences, and characteristics that shape our identity. We should never allow anyone to make us feel bad for how we were born or the attributes that make us different. Embracing our true selves, including our race, ethnicity, and all the qualities that make us who we are, is a powerful act of self-love and acceptance.

Through this self-affirmation, we can navigate the world with confidence and resilience, unapologetically living our lives and contributing to the richness of diversity. Remember, your worth is not determined by others’ opinions but by your self-perception and the knowledge that you are inherently valuable and deserving of respect, regardless of how you were born.

Thank you for reading my story. Let me know if you have had a similar experience and how that’s changed you in the comments!