Lyrik Harris thinks identity is much more dimensional than a single descriptive word would have you believe.
It’s no surprise when people ask me if I’m mixed, or multiracial. My light skin and hazel eyes tend to give away more than just black. Though I have become accustomed to the question, it still puzzles me sometimes.
Mixed: a word used to describe a person who has multiple different racial backgrounds. As I ponder that, I wonder, aren’t we all ‘mixed?’ The easy answer for me is no. Both of my parents are African-American; darker skinned with deep brown eyes and beautiful dark curls. My brother has a similar appearance, taking after my mother’s side, but I stayed true to the Creole background that my father’s grandmother holds.
As genetics go, your appearance can be affected by those hidden genes that got passed down to your parents, but weren’t used. In my own home, I am the only member of my family that dons light eyes and even lighter skin. When I visit my dad’s family, those features make up the beauty that I see in many of my relatives. My great grandma is from Louisiana, meaning that her ethnicity may include European ancestry, African roots, and the history of the Native Indigenous people of the Americas.
With all those mixed ethnicities, it becomes difficult to pinpoint exactly where you’re from. Even so, I embrace what I have. The love of jazz and recipes for iconic Creole gumbo, jambalaya, and étouffée are aspects of my culture that I carry with me proudly. I don’t want to lose a part of me solely because I have to categorize myself into a single box.