Exploring what it means to be multiracial
Being multiracial is an interesting experience. I won’t call it unique because there are 9 million of us in the US alone, but it certainly wasn’t all that common where I was raised in suburban Connecticut. In fact, it wasn’t until the past couple years that I really started to explore its significance for me.
Growing up, I didn’t identify as multiracial. We weren’t at a point yet where forms and surveys gave us an option to accurately describe being more than one race, and besides, I looked (mostly) white. I was treated as a white person. I ticked off the boxes labeled Caucasian, even when applying for college and I could have gained an advantage, because it didn’t feel right. It was just easier to pick the category I looked the most like.
But at some point, I changed. The shift was gradual. I can’t say if it was inevitable because I’m only starting to have these conversations with more multiracial friends, colleagues, and acquaintances. But one pivotal moment I recall is the first time I realized just how much judgment was passed on my name (and not in a good way).
Four years ago, I spent the weekend with an ex covering First City Festival in Monterey. We booked a bed and breakfast in nearby Carmel and made it down there on a Friday evening right before the early 8:00 PM check-in cutoff. At the front desk, a woman greeted us and said she was waiting for that one last guest. Now comes the awkward part. “I saw your name and was expecting an Indian guy. But you’re actually really handsome.”
I didn’t know how to respond, or what to say. Was I supposed to take that as a compliment? It came across as insulting to half of my ethnicity (I’m part South Asian Indian, part Irish — and a bunch of other things according to 23andMe). Although I was aware that people pass judgment on names (even when they don’t sound foreign), and spent years dealing with every mispronunciation you could fathom, this was the first time I thought about how it could hold me back. I knew it could gain me favor in some circles too, but far more likely were instances where I was being stereotyped or discriminated against. I’m glad I hadn’t dwelt on this in the past, nor will I trouble myself with it too much in the future. I already have enough insecurities.
On some level, I was already aware of the discrimination my father faced in the States. There were numerous incidents that cannot simply be explained by actions, personality, or job proficiency. To his credit, my dad talked about it, but never was the type of person who clung on to the idea of being a victim. I’m happy with how he handled it and totally get that being Indian is not the most disadvantaged group in America. It’s not even in the running.
But the Carmel incident triggered something in me. I realized that many of my favorite creatives — Sosupersam, Aubrey Plaza, Ramesh Srivastava are multiracial themselves. I don’t think it was a conscious decision, but maybe I saw a bit of myself in them and was trying to celebrate that. Like I was proud of “my people.”
I’ve always had trouble identifying through race or ethnicity. I never felt very Indian, and now I don’t feel white either. I didn’t understand in college when all the Asians, Russians, or whomever would hang out because they had that in common. Similar interests in art, music, or athletics were (and still are) the culture that bonds me to others.
Another ongoing event has been the heightened sense of racial identity. Far before the last presidential election, living in San Francisco surfaced that conversation through class, housing prices, evictions, and homelessness. My identity changed. I didn’t feel like a white dude anymore. And although I’m white enough to get a lot of the benefits, I’m also brown enough to understand that the ability to distance oneself from or ignore political and social issues is a privilege. I began to confide in Latino friends of mine that “white people are kind of the worst” and felt conflicted about having those thoughts. After all, I’m part and some people still assume that’s all I am.
This year, another admired creative of mine, Chaz Bundick of Toro Y Moi tweeted, “i feel like us mixed race ppl have a better view of the world.” He got slammed, and while obviously it could have been worded more eloquently, was he that wrong in suggesting that we may have a more complete understanding? Comments ranged from boycotts to people telling him that multiracial people are more messed up than anybody.
Blatant multiracial insults were foreign to me, but as I asked more friends, it was more common than I realized. Questions about being multiracial never offended me and I was always happy to answer them, but I began to understand why some people could be sensitive about it.
I feel incredibly lucky to be multiracial. It has allowed me to experience different cultures through family. There’s a biracial beauty stereotype that I may benefit from, and some studies even suggest that multiracial people tend to have better cognitive skills. I believe it’s made me more empathetic toward the difficulties minority groups face in the United States. But with that understanding I think comes responsibility, or at least an opportunity.
The fact that multiracial people may be in a better position to understand different points of view is valuable. It’s not inconceivable that we have a bigger audience, or at least one that is more willing to listen because they see a part of them in us. To me, it’s an opportunity to speak up on behalf of others that are being dismissed. Because perhaps, by being vocal, we can help others have their voices heard.
Afterword: When I first started writing this, I had no idea where it was going to lead. It still feels incomplete, but that’s because my own discovery is still very much that. What I hope is that other multiracial people can chime in. While I hope there was something in here others could relate to, I’m sure you have your own unique experiences stemming from your unique circumstances. Whatever you have to share, I would love to hear it.
