My mom is Chinese, with black hair and tan skin. My dad is white, with light eyes and skin the color of office paper. I, on the other hand, am an awkward midway point: dark skin, but not super dark; black hair, but not super black.
It used to be that I never thought about my mixed race. But as I've gotten older, and now that I attend a predominantly white suburban school, race is constantly on my mind.
Recently, my classmates and I participated in a survey calculating our privilege,
One question, asked whether band aids match my skin color. Are band aids supposed to, I wondered?
Another question, asked whether I can surround myself with people of my same race whenever I choose. I looked around my English class and saw blond hair and pale skin.