Growing into your identity is a big part of growing up, but when you are part of a mixed-race family the process is more complicated. Ami Bailey has this Perspective.
“I paint myself brown.”
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Those were the words I said over and over to anyone who asked me why I didn’t look
like my parents. I knew I was adopted, but I didn’t want to answer the questions that came with telling people I was not biologically related to my family.
I have always struggled with my identity. When I was younger, and we were told to draw
self-portraits of ourselves and our family, I would use the peach crayon. Am I white or am I black? That seemed to be the unanswerable question sitting in the back of my mind, whether I liked it or not.
I mean on one hand, I’m ethnically African American, have experienced racism and have a connection to the black culture. However, I have grown up with white parents, in a country that is geared towards white people.
I haven’t always wanted black friends. In fact, it wasn’t until recently that I decided I
needed friends that weren't white, not because of the color of our skin but because of our perspectives and experiences. When I was younger, I didn’t care that I was the minority at school. I would happily play “Hot Lava Monster” with all the white kids. When you’re young, race doesn’t matter. Eight-year-olds don’t care who’s white and who’s not. All they care about is who’s having the best birthday party and whose car you’re riding in for the class field trip.
Race and racism is a part of my identity. I’ve experienced my fair share of racist
comments, but I haven’t always been able to recognize them. When I was in elementary school, I lived in Truckee which is a predominantly white town. Microaggressions were directed towards me and my mom. That’s one reason we moved away.
Usually, if someone experiences racism, they can go to their family about it. Being the
only black person in my family means there’s nobody to turn to about racism. Although my parents try their best to make our family a safe place to talk about those things, it’s not the same as talking to someone who has had firsthand experiences with racism and identity.
Although it’s not always easy being black and being adopted. I wouldn’t trade it for the
world.
With a Perspective, I’m Ami Bailey.
Ami Bailey is an eighth grader at Kent Middle School in Kentfield.