According to the 2010 census data, "more than 9 million people in the U.S. identified themselves as being two or more races, up from about 6.8 million in 2000."

At five years old, I learned it is an insult to ask an African-American person if they are part white. If your features suggest that you have African ancestry, then you are African-American. If you do not value the black American legacy before all other parts of your culture, you become a representation of betrayal to “your people.”

Although the one-drop rule was used to differentiate between black and white Americans in the Jim Crow south, African-Americans still use this rule to identify who is African-American and who is not. Because of affirmative action, the one-drop rule has aided individuals in the college process. Many students have done research on their ancestral histories to simply check off the most ethnic-looking boxes, although they have never known anyone in their family who can identify with a minority group. I had peers in high school who would research their Native American ancestors and apply as American Indian, and even knew families that suddenly identified as Hispanic by adding accents to their last names.

Recently, questions surrounding adding a “mixed" box to standardized tests has sparked interest among academics, tests makers and, most importantly, mixed students.

The New York Times article ”Mixed-Race Students Wonder How Many Boxes to Check,” included an interview with a half-Sudanese, half Russian 18-year old female. Aia Sarycheva, 18, stated,

“The thing I want to convey is that I didn’t check the box because it would give me some sort of admissions boost. I checked black, along with white, because that is who I am.”

My closest friend in high school came from a Sicilian-American father and African-American mother, and only checked off the “Black/African-American/Caribbean” box on her standardized tests and applications for schools. The college process is just one of many examples where biracial persons may feel compelled to “pick a side” of their cultural identity. In 1903, Pan-Africanist scholar, W.E.B. Dubois, coined a term, which perfectly conveys the feelings my friend experienced surrounding her double identity. He described such "double consciousness" as:

“This sense of always looking at one’s self through the eyes of others, of measuring one’s soul by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity. One ever feels his two-ness, —an American, a Negro; two souls, two thoughts, two unreconciled strivings; two warring ideals in one dark body, whose dogged strength alone keeps it from being torn asunder.”

When I took my first standardized test, I was asked to “Check all races that apply.” Although I am black, I found myself struggling - because I am often mistaken for mixed, or called “the really white black girl.”

 

The first thing most of my peers notice about me is that I do not use the vernacular, although I am African-American. One of my peers at the UC Berkeley Summer Writing Workshop told me his first thoughts about me were:

“Oh. There’s a black girl in the class. If she is ghetto, this could be really interesting.”

I tend to disappoint new acquaintances once they discover I can afford certain privileges, like worrying about diet and exercise, and even stress over the pressures of coming from an incredibly intellectual “Stanford Family.” These privileges often exclude me from being “able to hang” with working-class black people and sometimes intimidate students who “have never met a black person like me” before.

Regardless, my skin is still brown, and my ancestors still faced extreme prejudice, so while befriending and dating outside of my own race, I still tend to feel like the “token black girl.” It becomes lonely when most of my friends just don’t understand the daily expectations that come with being a part of a culture that is so focused on overcoming oppression. I’ve noticed that, depending on a biracial individual's appearance, he or she may be treated as if they are either white or black. And at times, I feel as though my family’s financial success and access to education are equated with whiteness.

 

 

Despite the fact that I come from predominately African ancestry, the shame and fears I experience as a response to racial prejudice seem identical to many of my biracial peers. Because African-Americans highly value memory and tradition, I have been encouraged to solely identify with my African-American ancestry, "fully entrench myself" in the black community at USC and to make sure I always have "black girlfriends."

But I can't forget that I, too, am French, English and 1/32 Native American, meaning my father can legally live in a reservation or tribe. I may be predominately African-American, but the bond that exists between peoples in a race does not simply come down to heritage and ancestry.

I will always identify as the daughter of two African-American professionals, who have instilled me with a deep sense of pride and understanding for African-American traditions and customs. People do ask me, "what race are you?" which can be extremely offensive, because most of these people suggest that "I'm just so white" or "don't look very black." I hate admitting that I do identify more with the experiences of my biracial and white peers, mainly because I am from an affluent, white suburb and have only attended private schools.

But, before anything, I am human. A human who identifies with countless cultures, ranging from the Creative Non-Fiction community to 80s Indie culture. But when asked "what race are you?" I will always answer "African-American." Though my blackness does not define who I am, it is what I come from.

 

Reach Columnist Maya Richard-Craven here. Read her previous installment on youth & race issues, "You're Pretty For A Black Girl."

See more from Rebecca Orlandini Photography here.