See People for Who They are Not Who You Want Them to Be (Part I)

In nearly all of my keynotes, I boldly challenge my audience of leaders and aspiring leaders with the assertion that it’s choice, not chance, that makes a great leader. One crucial point I emphasize is to, “Choose to see people for who they are, not who you want them to be.” If you read my last post, you’ll know I mentioned sharing some of my earlier writings. While it may seem convenient, it’s actually quite challenging to revisit these thoughts.

This story comes from a blog I wrote nearly three years ago during a time of intense racial and cultural division in our country. I wrote the series after the events of January 6, which starkly highlighted that there are different rules for different people. Today, I’m sharing it not because of what happened in 2021, but because we remain divisive, still questioning the essence of who people are and "what they are", often without considering the impact on them. This issue is personal for me and my interracial family.

Back then, I asked my two daughters to write about their experiences as mixed-race individuals in 2021, and I also sought my husband’s perspective on being part of an interracial family. Although my girls have grown since then, their perspectives and experiences haven’t changed much. My hope is that they see themselves as part of the future and not be weighed down by the past (and even present) of being questioned about their very existence and identity. Here, in their own words, is what they shared.

IN HER WORDS -- Jené (26)

“Growing up, being biracial wasn't "a thing." I knew I was two races, but it was rarely something other people pointed out. That didn't start until college when people decided it was necessary to remind me that I'm mixed. Then being mixed and a light-skin girl was a fad -- all girls wanted to be a "lightly toasted" skin color with brown eyes and curly hair. I don't know why all of a sudden, we became the "next best thing," but we did. During that time, being mixed was like winning an Oscar.

Fast forward to the chaos that is 2020 when America is divided by race (I say that as though it hasn’t always been that way). Amidst the #BLMmovement and cops shooting people on a whim, being biracial is a physical representation of conflict. We're not "Black enough" (according to Black people) or we "aren't really Black" (according to White people),which makes us "other" as though we don't belong to anyone but ourselves. (That could sound as though we stand in solidarity, but honestly, it's pretty lonely.) This divide reminds me of being in 4th grade when I would have to take the fake SAT exams and fill in the damn ethnicity bubbles. It took years for there to be a "Two or More Races" option. I was told numerous times to choose one -- cue Jené thinking, "well how TF am I supposed to do that when my DNA is both? Idiots." But in all seriousness, it was incredibly frustrating that we were forced to make a choice, which I never did -- I filled in both bubbles because my 10-year old self was making a point.

Now, at 26, and again during the violence that is 2020, being biracial means you don't belong, and you have a target on your back perpetuated by both sides. How exactly do we make sense of that? We can't. Imagine if you woke up every day knowing both black people and white people looked down on your existence? Imagine that you wished you could crawl out of your skin and into some Lily Pulitzer wearing white girl's skin because it would be easier. Now, I would never change my ethnicity -- that's not what I'm insinuating. The point I'm trying to make is that we, as mixed people, are confused. We are conflicted because of our DNA; our genes represent that conflict. So how do people expect us to be okay with knowing that we are the manifestation of yes, people coming together, but also 100+ years

of racial hate and divide? And unless you are mixed, there's no way to understand it, because you are already accepted (generally speaking). We aren't and never have been. So how exactly is that supposed to not bother us, to weigh on us? We are supposed to be signs of progress, and where has that gotten us? Answer me that.”

IN HER WORDS -- Savannah (24)

“During times like these, being biracial holds a strange power. I can barely relate to the feeling of being scared as I walk down the street, but then again, if I really think about it, I hold some of that fear, but not much. Growing up biracial, people didn’t always see me as mixed. Depending on the situation I was in, and who I was with, they decided my ethnicity. Sometimes I was White and sometimes I was Black to my peers.

In negative situations, I was always Black to my peers. I’ve been looked down upon by teachers in an all-White classroom and I’ve also been held to a higher standard than those who are fully Black. I’ve heard many racial slurs followed by “You can’t take offense because you’re not fully Black.” I have encountered racism by people who didn’t think they were being racist because I am White. I’ve heard the question “What are you” more than anything else in my life. It’s like it is on constant repeat whenever I meet someone. Do you know how degrading that question feels? I understand that some people may mean well when asking me the question and they are genuinely curious. I believe because of White privilege and entitlement, they don’t ever stop and consider that it might be hurtful. I find these situations difficult because it makes me want to stand up for my blackness and still understand that I, too, have some amount of White privilege. I am responsible for uniting people, I am a unity of the two races that fight the most. I’ve grown up hearing that some of my extended family has racist tendencies (whatever that means) or is racist, and that’s difficult to cope with and to handle. I don’t know if I’m loved for me or if it’s because I am their son's child. I am proud to be biracial and I am proud to educate those who don’t understand their white privilege. I’m still learning how to understand mine. I know it exists, but not how much.

Being a biracial woman has led men to sexualize me more too. There seems to be a fantasy with mixed-race women because we are the “the best of both worlds,” which is incredibly offensive.

All in all, I think biracial people hold the most power in uniting this country because we see both sides. Yes, sometimes we fear for our lives but, other times, depending on our level of being light-skinned we don’t have to worry about being killed just for walking down the street. I stand with my Black family and I stand with my White family. It is important for White people to see their privilege, to understand their privilege, and to do something positive with it. It’s also important for Black people to know that all White people aren’t a threat.

P.S. Next week's Newsletter will feature Part II, the last part of the series.