TQ Presents... @Reckmonster

I generally try to put out three blog posts per week, but from time-to-time, I get caught up with other things: The Mrs., work, football, etc. So, I figured, why not solicit some of my favorite bloggers to take up the slack for me. Yeah, that's right, I can facilitate my blogging duties to others! How lazy wonderful is that?

So, I've asked Michelle to grace my blog with her bold and up front style of blogging! Well, I'm going to let the Reckmonster do her thing. But, before I do so, I want to announce that this is blog post #250! Reck, feel privileged that #250 will be graced with your talents!

"When I Found Out I Wasn't White"

You know what I find abso-fucking-lutely hysterical? I'mma tell you: When people give a disclaimer that they're not prejudiced, but go on to express their disdain for when white girls date black guys, or white guys date asian girls, or so on and so on. Hmmmm, let's dissect this even further...you're not "prejudiced," per se, but you have a problem with when the black bull strays into another farmer's pasture and mounts the white heifer? And even MORE unbelievable??? Is when people say this to ME. ME - the chick who is the product of an interracial marriage. You're gonna pontificate about the evils of the races "mixing" and you're gonna do it to the audience of the crazy "mixed" chick?! I will never understand that. Like I'm going to fucking agree with you or something: "Hell yeah! Let's keep those races separate! All that happens is crazy, mixed up mutts get born and don't fit in anywhere." Or even better - when I actually point out their faux pas (translation: COMPLETE FUCK UP), and their priceless response??? "Well, not YOU - we think of you as 'white!'" My response is not usually well received: "Well, that's mighty fucking white of you!" Can you tell this subject is a little, hmmm, "charged" for me?! Yeah. Just a lil. You want to know why? Let me share...

People wonder all of the time what "flavor" I am. I get asked, "Where are you from?" all of the time. When I answer, "Michigan," they roll their eyes and say, "No REALLY, like where are you REALLY from?" And if the scruff on the back of my neck starts to stand - because they're being real douches about it, I say, "I REALLY AM from Michigan. I was born there. But if you're curious about my parental ancestry or my ethnicity, then you should ask me that." If they're honestly curious (and - bless their hearts - truly clueless about how to tactfully ask), I usually answer with, "Well, My dad's family is from Michigan, and I was born there too - but my mom's family is from the Philippines. So I'm Heinz 57." That usually satisfies people enough because they nod knowingly and say, "OOOOH! O-kayyyyy."

The real truth is that my mother is Filipino, my father is a mish-mash of Chippewa Indian (yes, we are card carrying members of the Sault Tribe of Chippewa Indians) and whatever "whiteness" was hanging out up there in Michigan - maybe French Canadian, but who knows? My parents have always referred to me as a "mestiza" (which is a Filipino word meaning "mixed"). And since I grew up in an Army family - most of my friends were "mixed" bags too. My best friend in High School was half Black and half Thai. Then there was the beautiful girl a year ahead of me who was half Puerto Rican and half Korean. You get the idea.

Fast forward to sixth grade: My dad gets us stationed in Louisiana. We had just come from Korea. Now, Louisiana was probably the biggest culture shock in the world to me. And we lived in this po-dunk town that was a good 20+ miles from the Army post, so they were much more removed from all of that "mixing" that occurs in the military. I encountered my first real bouts of experiencing "racism" there.

Being the child prodigy that I was (snicker snicker), I was slated to be interviewed for the Beauregard Parish School System's Talented and Gifted program ("TAG") - accelerated classes for the smarty pants nerd kids (and yeah, I got in and was in the TAG program the whole time we were stationed in LA - until we moved to Germany in the middle of my Freshman year of HS). Now, in order to get me signed up for the interview, my homeroom teacher had to fill out some basic info on the application. She asked for my date of birth, place of birth, yada, yada, yada. Then, the conversation got interesting:

Teacher: Race?
Me: White.
Teacher: Are you sure? [accompanied by double-take surprised look]
Me: Yes. [accompanied by, "Are you retarded?" look]
Teacher: Well, you're not Black, right?
Me: No.
Teacher: Are you Mexican?
Me: No.
Teacher: Are you sure you're White?
Me: [exasperated by this point] Yes! My dad is White. And my mom is Filipino, but she's an American citizen now, so she's White too. [ahhhh...to be that naive again...]
Teacher: Well, okay, then I guess we'll mark White. (and she proceeds to reluctantly mark the "White" box on the "Race" portion of the questionnaire)
Me: Mkay.

So, what is a 12 year old supposed to do now? I get home and immediately start grilling my momster.

Me: MOM! What am I?
Momster: What are you talking about?
Me: Am I WHITE?!!!
Momster: You're a mestiza.
Me: Yeah, but does that mean I'm White?!
Momster: Well, you're a mestiza...
Me (annoyed, impatient and traumatized at this point): BUT THERE'S NOT A BOX FOR MESTIZA!!!
Momster: Well, you can be whatever you want to be.
Me: MOM! I need to KNOW what box to mark!!!

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is when I found out that I was NOT White. 12 years old...living a "White" lie - because nobody bothered to tell me BEFORE we moved to KKK-ville that I was NOT White. Thus began my campaign to fuck with those silly "race" boxes every opportunity I get. Sometimes I mark "Asian/Pacific Islander" and sometimes I mark "Other." Sometimes I mark "all that apply" and check off all kinds of boxes. And sometimes (since I got my Chippewa Indian card) I mark "Native American." I like to make sure that I mark as many DIFFERENT racial representations of myself to all of the different jackasses that feel like they need to know. I think I even mark a different race every time the census comes out. HAH! Take that!! [insert Bronx Cheer here] But...I NEVER mark "White" - because I now KNOW that I'm NOT.