I was born in 1970. My mother was a young woman of Swedish descent who immediately gave me up for adoption (which I still believe is the greatest gift, besides life, that she could have given me). My father's race is unknown, although he was most likely African-American or Pacific Islander. I have been labeled everything from Southern Italian to Hispanic to Hawiian to "What are you?". The family that adopted me is German and Irish. All of my siblings (I have 4 older ones!) are my parents biological children. I grew up in a predominately white community all of my life. I remember the stares my family used to get! I never understood it until they sent me to a more ethnically mixed junior high. That was my first experience with racism. The black girls hated me and the other minorities just made fun of me. The only ones who seemed to accept me were the white kids. I also had the misfortune of looking very mature at a very young age which unfortunately invited unwanted sexual advances from predominately older minority men. Needless to say, that experience left a life long bad taste in my mouth that I am only getting rid of now. I've dated mostly white men all of my life. I once dated a mixed race man and briefly, a black man. The man who was of mixed race seemed to have a lot of unresolved issues with his own heritage which eventually took a toll on our relationship while the black man treated me like some an object to be displayed and controlled. While all of my relationships with white men weren't wonderful, at least they weren't focused on looks and the only issues that dominated were those of a couple trying to make things work (i.e. careers, commitment, quality time etc.). I am now engaged to a wonderful man who happens to be white. From the minute we met we connected and we knew we were soul mates. Now, when people ask me what my race is, I just say mutt.

I was married in May,1999 to my now wonderful husband. We were surrounded by all of our family and friends for a truly incredible experience. The funny part was when we first got up there. We were married out of town and the wedding coordinator had only met my mother. Needless to say she couldn't hide the confusion on her face when she met me! We had a few stares while we were up there but nothing out of the ordinary. The strange thing was that for the first time in my life, I didn't notice the stares on my own. It was my siblings or nieces and nephews who pointed it out. They asked me how that felt, since they had not really had to deal with it in their lives and so I described how it felt when I was a small child, which was confusing. I didn't really understand why people were staring until I was a pre-teen. As a teenager I felt out of place and insecure, no one wants to be different at that age. In college, I decided it was rude and I would tell people exactly how I felt. Now I look at those stares with pity. How limited a person's world must be that the only way they can relate to others is by by judging them on the way they look. I realize that to some extent, we all look at physical appearance for initial identification. Be it skin color, attractiveness, the way we are dressed etc. But to base your entire identification of others on such superficial factors is sad. I'm not saying that I do not do this myself to some extent, but to stare at me with my family is about as limited and ignorant as those who say, stare at someone with a physical disability. I now know that we are all just people and that our outward appearance has little to do with who we are. And surprisingly enough, being biracial has taught me that lesson. As I move forward with my life, I hope to learn more valuable lessons so that someday I can pass them on to my children.

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