I’m biracial and it’s not my job to ease your discomfort.
Tara Vox

I’m African American and my husband is white. We have two girls. One looks bi-racial, tan skin, wavy curls and the other looks white. Even when I’m with her, white people often assume I’m a nanny. It’s fascinating to me to see how deeply UNCOMFORTABLE her “whiteness” makes so many white people — her teenaged peers, even more so their parents. My daughter, like you, knows who she is, and, if I’m being honest, I enjoy watching people squirm. I like to think that it forces them to question why their compulsion to categorize and stereotype is so strong. At 14, she already has a litany of responses at the ready for “what are you?” My my favorite answer of hers is “Human, just like you.”

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