My dad is French-Canadian and my mom is Chinese. My dad recently asked me which race I identified as, Asian or white. I said, “Both, I guess.” That technically wasn’t a lie, but those three words are just the tip of the iceberg. They can’t even begin to encompass what lies below the surface level, the full truth.

For me being biracial means that I tan pretty easily because of the extra melanin. I’ve always spent a lot of time outside in the sun, and let’s just say I could be a little better when it comes to applying sunscreen, so my skin gets pretty tan during the summer. I never used to think about this until preschool when I had a boy call me “brown girl” because according to him everything about me was brown, my hair, eyes, and skin. Yes, we were just toddlers, but I can still remember wondering why that made my skin crawl. Yes we were just toddlers so I don’t fault him, but just because the grudge didn’t stick doesn’t mean that the memory didn’t either.

For me being biracial means that most people assume I’m white. As of today, the only people that I know of who’ve recognized that I’m partially Asian without me telling them have been other people of Asian descent, so considering that I live in Exeter NH, almost no one. Although it is possible that other people realize I’m not just white with an aggressive tan, my experiences say differently. Every time I’ve had to tell my ethnicity, you’d be surprised how often this happens, I get comments on it. Most often, “You’re Asian?!.” or occasionally something along the lines of “Hmm… well that’s an interesting mix…” I’ve gotten that response from my French teacher multiple times when I’ve had to tell my “nationalité d’origine”. From people who already know, the most recent is, “If you’re Asian, how come you have brown hair?” I even had someone ask if my Asian friend and I are twins, which is a different story entirely but that’s besides the point. While most of the time these remarks are valid, for once it would be nice not to have to explain my ethnic background.

For me being biracial means that when it comes to race, I have somewhat of an identity crisis. I find myself making excuses for others too often because I don’t feel like my discomfort is legitimate. I take the easy way out and just say ambiguous things like “Both, I guess,” whenever anyone asks because I’d rather leave the underside of the iceberg uncovered. Because…

for me being biracial means that I am not

 white                                                               or                                                                  Asian, I am the gray area in between. 

If I am too Asian to be white, and too white to be Asian, 

 how do I know 

                                                                 who 

                                                                                       I 

                                                                         am?

I am far from perfect, but while my race has defined some of my experiences, that doesn't mean it’s the only thing that defines me. I am a procrastinator, a pessimist, and a perfectionist. I am independent, indecisive, and an introvert. I am genuine, generous, and a girl. I am brave, a booklover, and yes… I am biracial.