See People for Who They are Not Who You Want Them to Be (Parts I, II & III)
In nearly all of my keynotes, I boldly challenge my audience of leaders and aspiring leaders with the assertion that it’s choice, not chance, that makes a great leader. One crucial point I emphasize is to, “Choose to see people for who they are, not who you want them to be.” If you read my last post, you’ll know I mentioned sharing some of my earlier writings. While it may seem convenient, it’s actually quite challenging to revisit these thoughts.
This story comes from a blog I wrote nearly three years ago during a time of intense racial and cultural division in our country. I wrote the series after the events of January 6, which starkly highlighted that there are different rules for different people. Today, I’m sharing it not because of what happened in 2021, but because we remain divisive, still questioning the essence of who people are and "what they are", often without considering the impact on them. This issue is personal for me and my interracial family.
Back then, I asked my two daughters to write about their experiences as mixed-race individuals in 2021, and I also sought my husband’s perspective on being part of an interracial family. Although my girls have grown since then, their perspectives and experiences haven’t changed much. My hope is that they see themselves as part of the future and not be weighed down by the past (and even present) of being questioned about their very existence and identity. Here, in their own words, is what they shared.
IN HER WORDS -- Jené (26)
“Growing up, being biracial wasn't "a thing." I knew I was two races, but it was rarely something other people pointed out. That didn't start until college when people decided it was necessary to remind me that I'm mixed. Then being mixed and a light-skin girl was a fad -- all girls wanted to be a "lightly toasted" skin color with brown eyes and curly hair. I don't know why all of a sudden, we became the "next best thing," but we did. During that time, being mixed was like winning an Oscar.
Fast forward to the chaos that is 2020 when America is divided by race (I say that as though it hasn’t always been that way). Amidst the #BLMmovement and cops shooting people on a whim, being biracial is a physical representation of conflict. We're not "Black enough" (according to Black people) or we "aren't really Black" (according to White people),which makes us "other" as though we don't belong to anyone but ourselves. (That could sound as though we stand in solidarity, but honestly, it's pretty lonely.) This divide reminds me of being in 4th grade when I would have to take the fake SAT exams and fill in the damn ethnicity bubbles. It took years for there to be a "Two or More Races" option. I was told numerous times to choose one -- cue Jené thinking, "well how TF am I supposed to do that when my DNA is both? Idiots." But in all seriousness, it was incredibly frustrating that we were forced to make a choice, which I never did -- I filled in both bubbles because my 10-year old self was making a point.
Now, at 26, and again during the violence that is 2020, being biracial means you don't belong, and you have a target on your back perpetuated by both sides. How exactly do we make sense of that? We can't. Imagine if you woke up every day knowing both black people and white people looked down on your existence? Imagine that you wished you could crawl out of your skin and into some Lily Pulitzer wearing white girl's skin because it would be easier. Now, I would never change my ethnicity -- that's not what I'm insinuating. The point I'm trying to make is that we, as mixed people, are confused. We are conflicted because of our DNA; our genes represent that conflict. So how do people expect us to be okay with knowing that we are the manifestation of yes, people coming together, but also 100+ years
of racial hate and divide? And unless you are mixed, there's no way to understand it, because you are already accepted (generally speaking). We aren't and never have been. So how exactly is that supposed to not bother us, to weigh on us? We are supposed to be signs of progress, and where has that gotten us? Answer me that.”
IN HER WORDS -- Savannah (24)
“During times like these, being biracial holds a strange power. I can barely relate to the feeling of being scared as I walk down the street, but then again, if I really think about it, I hold some of that fear, but not much. Growing up biracial, people didn’t always see me as mixed. Depending on the situation I was in, and who I was with, they decided my ethnicity. Sometimes I was White and sometimes I was Black to my peers.
In negative situations, I was always Black to my peers. I’ve been looked down upon by teachers in an all-White classroom and I’ve also been held to a higher standard than those who are fully Black. I’ve heard many racial slurs followed by “You can’t take offense because you’re not fully Black.” I have encountered racism by people who didn’t think they were being racist because I am White. I’ve heard the question “What are you” more than anything else in my life. It’s like it is on constant repeat whenever I meet someone. Do you know how degrading that question feels? I understand that some people may mean well when asking me the question and they are genuinely curious. I believe because of White privilege and entitlement, they don’t ever stop and consider that it might be hurtful. I find these situations difficult because it makes me want to stand up for my blackness and still understand that I, too, have some amount of White privilege. I am responsible for uniting people, I am a unity of the two races that fight the most. I’ve grown up hearing that some of my extended family has racist tendencies (whatever that means) or is racist, and that’s difficult to cope with and to handle. I don’t know if I’m loved for me or if it’s because I am their son's child. I am proud to be biracial and I am proud to educate those who don’t understand their white privilege. I’m still learning how to understand mine. I know it exists, but not how much.
Being a biracial woman has led men to sexualize me more too. There seems to be a fantasy with mixed-race women because we are the “the best of both worlds,” which is incredibly offensive.
All in all, I think biracial people hold the most power in uniting this country because we see both sides. Yes, sometimes we fear for our lives but, other times, depending on our level of being light-skinned we don’t have to worry about being killed just for walking down the street. I stand with my Black family and I stand with my White family. It is important for White people to see their privilege, to understand their privilege, and to do something positive with it. It’s also important for Black people to know that all White people aren’t a threat.
In His Words: Greg
“This is my perspective on being a White man in an interracial marriage and father of two biracial children. But you should know, I am not an activist.
In my adult life, I have approached most things from an intellectual perspective. When I met my wife, her beauty was enhanced by the color of her skin. I married her because I loved her then and I still love her. Regardless of our different races and different life experiences, we have always shared the same faith and values, which is important to both of us. As a side-benefit, I did hope that my interracial marriage would help educate others that White and Black people are equal and should be treated equally.
When my two girls were born, I said, and as I have repeated many times since as they have grown up, that they are part of the answer to solving racism. I know that's easy to say but I believe it. Just by the example of their lives, I always thought that our biracial daughters would be able to further educate others that the color of one's skin doesn't matter to being equal. Unfortunately, other people are being raised or somehow being taught to be racist. I strongly believe that racism is learned, it is not innate.
From my early days, I've developed my knowledge that racism is wrong and that racists, who I detest, have ranged from ignorant individuals to people who wrongfully carry hate towards others in their hearts and minds. While all of that comes from an intellectual perspective, my biggest emotional response is when my wife is scared to drive in the city out of fear of being stopped by the police for “Driving While Black” and my daughters are scared to walk their dogs out of fear of the police stopping them and it escalating into being shot (it happens). Like any spouse or parent, I hurt when they hurt.
I also hurt that my daughters are being conflicted because of others, Blacks and Whites, who want them to pick a more extreme side concerning the current race issues. They should be able to be uniquely biracial, or the best of both races if others have to categorize them. Unfortunately, most people are not that open-minded, and it makes me so sad that my girls have to put up with people who try to make them choose a race.
While I am 100% anti-racism, my wife is perplexed about why my detesting racists and the parental pain I feel for my daughters don't translate into more anti-racist activism on my part. She doesn't see, and I don't always tell her, the many times that I've corrected a White family member, friend, or colleague who has made a racist statement. I don't have anything to do with outright racists, and I would never associate with them, but I do know people that I call latent racist. They don't think they are racist, but they say things that show me they have learned racism. In my own calm, intellectual way, I try to correct them, and hopefully change the way they think.
My wife doesn't appreciate the sadness I feel that I am a registered Republican who didn't vote Republican or Democrat in the last presidential race, although I did vote for the other offices on the ballot. This year, as a registered Republican I will probably vote Democrat for the sake of our country and race relations, and hopefully, Republicans will return to their better values in the future. When the topic comes up amongst my republican friends, I try to explain my thinking in the hope of getting them to change their vote as well.
So, while I don't tolerate racism, and I push back against racist comments when I'm confronted, my wife is still surprised I don't express greater outrage. I try to explain that I'm probably representative of 80% of the White population – the other 10% are activists and 10% actively resist change. I'm one of those White guys who is busy at work; who has spent the past 30 years caring for my family (emotionally and through action); and trying to have some fun with friends along the way. Bluntly, just different priorities as I don't feel other's pain enough.
When she asks me what would evoke greater outrage and action against racism, not just by me but the rest of the 80%, I tell her what many others have previously said -- seeing pain makes you feel the pain. For non-Black people, hearing second or third hand about injustice against Black people or reading about it doesn't always evoke an emotional reaction as it still seems like a different world. But now, cell phone cameras are like TVs in the 1950s and 1960s which brought evidence of racism and cruelty against Black people, and the resulting civil rights protests, into White people's living rooms. That then led to gaining the broader population's support for civil rights. While I don't want violence to occur against anyone, when it does happen and there is video evidence, then everyone can feel the pain and agree that things need to change.
Seeing the Black Lives Matter protests helps the broader population understand how real racism is and that things have to change. Without the protests, too many people would just go back to their regular lives and not push for change. While I'm not someone who marches in protests (I did one with my wife when we were younger), I encourage others to keep up the peaceful protests until changes happen.
I will take action in my own way, I will vote for those who will make changes to policing rules; those who will provide funding for those who need educational and job opportunities as well as equal healthcare access; and those who promote anti-racism. That's how I express my anti-racism. Perhaps too calmly, but I'll speak against racism until the day I die. I'll love being with my smart gorgeous Black wife and my talented beautiful biracial daughters as long as God will let me. Hopefully, we can set a good example for others.
I'm sorry if that's not enough.”
