I didn’t know I was biracial when I was a kid, but I knew I was different. I grew up on the coast of South Carolina with church steeples on the horizon and Spanish moss hanging from large live oak trees. I wasn’t your typical Southern girl. My father is white and an American G.I. who met my Korean mother while stationed overseas. I didn’t fit in with the white kids, the black kids or even the Asian kids because I wasn’t Asian enough. My peers didn’t know how to categorize me, and I didn’t know how to categorize myself. My parents didn’t have the tools necessary to help a half-Korean girl navigate school and life.
Over the course of middle school and high school, I met a few other biracial kids like me. Looking back, I can tell we were all just trying to blend in; you never want to draw too much attention to yourself as an adolescent, otherwise you’ll be labeled strange. Eventually, I figured it out despite the scrapes and bruises on my heart along the way, but I also wish I had an adult in my life who could help me navigate what I was experiencing.
It’s only in the past few years that I have been able to unpack my identity as a biracial person. The internet and social media have given me opportunities to read the stories of other multiethnic and multiracial people that resonated with me. There are memes that describe our day-to-day experiences such as being asked by a complete stranger, “What are you?” and “Where are you really from?”
Being a secondary language arts teacher for six years now, I have noticed an increase in the multiracial and multiethnic student population. I wondered if some of these students in our school were going through what I went through as a teenager. I wondered if I could be a resource and support for them on those days when they aren’t sure where exactly they fit in when it comes to their identity. Could I be the teacher that I needed when I was in school?
So, one day, I took a leap and organized a lunch discussion in my classroom for high school students to discuss multiracial and multiethnic experiences. I made digital fliers for the monitors in our hallways and personally invited some of my students. I wasn’t sure anyone would show up, but to my surprise, over 20 students arrived with lunches and friends in tow.
Setting a Table for Us
I kicked off the discussion by sharing my experience as a biracial woman. I mentioned the time in third grade when an ESOL teacher saw me in the hallway and decided I should take an English proficiency assessment, even though English is my first and only language. I shared with them the teasing I endured, like when my classmates made fun of my hairy arms and said Asian girls aren’t supposed to be hairy. I told them about how hard it was to be expected to visually fit in with a particular group of people but I couldn’t even though my white and Black peers did it every day. I said, “I don’t know if it’s still like this today or if any of you even go through this, but I wanted to share my experience with you just in case. I don’t want any of you to feel like you’re the only one who feels out of place sometimes.”
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