Dear Sweet Biracial Girl…

Dear sweet biracial girl,

I see you in church. Your big brown eyes find mine and I give you a little wave and smile.  I’m not sure if you look for me each week, but I do notice that once you find me, your search seems to stop. I know your parents, but you and I have an unspoken connection. When I see you, I see me at 4 years old, scanning the crowd for someone who looks like you. Me. Even though our church is pretty diverse, I am the only biracial woman who attends consistently. Sometimes I am even up on stage in front of everyone, singing. When I was little, I idolized any woman of color I was exposed to, but never knew a grown biracial woman. I imagine what you must think of me. You likely don’t have words or thoughts really formed about me, but you are observing. Watching. 

Who knows what tidbits of the media you have picked up on in passing. Are your scared that your dad might get pulled over for DWB (driving while black), and do you cringe when people ask your mom if you are adopted? Do you know there was a time people advised people not to marry interracially because “think about the children?” As if the issue was the marriage, not the prejudice that deeply clings to the hearts of so many people, both black and white? 

In this age, we have much more access to the positive stories of biracial women, and women of color in general. Yes, we can find many books, movies, and organizations dedicated to bringing these amazing contributions to the forefront of the Average American mind. But, with every positive story, there are 100 negative accounts to see, especially on television. I am hard pressed to find good role models for young POC.  Fighting, cussing, and acting crazy? No, I don’t need to search hard for that. Especially heartbreaking, is that we are okay with it. We are entertained by the same things that are keeping us down. And thus we are communicating that our entertainment is more important than lifting each other up out of the very stereotypes we are perpetuating. 

Sweet girl, I hope when you look at me, you see a stark contrast to what the media wants you to believe about yourself. A stark contrast to what much of America wants you to believe about yourself. 

For you, I will let my hair out more – wild and free and worn with pride. For you, I will make sure to look everyone in the eye and greet them with a smile. For you, I make sure to speak with people of all backgrounds. For you, in a church that is less charismatic, I make sure to be more free with my movements and rhythm. Find the beat of the music and unashamedly move back and forth — drum the back of the pew in front of me. Lift my hands. Let myself feel. Laugh loudly, say Amen. Because it’s easy to feel like we need to hold back.  But these things are the heart of who you are. They need not be tamed. Embrace them and wear their beauty proudly.

I know you’re watching, and counting on me to be comfortable in my own skin.  And I am, so you can be too.