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I grew up in an open minded, accepting environment. My grandfather, though, once told me he would disown me if I married a Black person. This had no effect on me personally, as I had already formed my own opinions and way of seeing the world.

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Race was never addressed in my family.  And I never thought to ask.

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Race was never addressed in my family.  And I never thought to ask.

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There was only one kid in my high school that was of color and he called himself an Oreo and didn’t really classify himself as color because he was adopted and “acted” white. 

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There was only one kid in my high school that was of color and he called himself an Oreo and didn’t really classify himself as color because he was adopted and “acted” white. 

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As my best friend Ervin and I became teenagers, his parents sat us down and explained why Ervin had to be more careful when we were out at night or at parties due to the color of his skin. At first, I did not understand until one night he and I were pulled over by the cops. How they treated us greatly differed for no apparent reason besides the color of our skin.

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I was told that people who were of a different race, were just inherently different from me and that it was just the way it was. It was also considered "inappropriate" to have interracial relationships in my household growing up.

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My father would show his racism by saying that Black people take advantage of these systems and that they should work harder and get better jobs. He was raised in the Midwest and around very few People of Color. This is something I have recently revisited and had to undo in my own life.

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There were very few students of color at my high school. It was considered "bold" or "rebellious" to date a black student if you were white - the inherent value in them as people did not seem to be the focus. Some people seemed to chose black partners for the shock value.

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As a child I quickly learned that my family had differences. My grandfather on my mothers side looked down on my household because my mother had me with a puerto rican man then married a puerto rican man. My mother actually had to run away from home as a young woman because of her choice of a partner. Holidays is the only time I saw my grandfather and he never really spoke to me. He has gotten better but I give him no other choice but to acknowledge and accept me, as well as, my siblings and children. My stepfather whom is puerto rican is also racist against african americans so I grew up living in a household with this as well. I am one of the only people in my family that has broken the cycle and stand up in all situations that arise. I have made such progress and continue to do so.

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Growing up I was always asked "where are you *really* from? because of my looks. The way I look was never in line with people's perception of what my ethnicity or nationality should look like. I knew that my skin+hair color played a huge roll in my identity.

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The first time I talked about race was a simplified explanation centered on skin color and experience. My mom explained that because I was adopted I looked different. In the moment I remember being unconcerned but my reaction later evolving as I grew up and understood race.

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When I was going to Jewish Summer Camp it was 99% white people and it was never discussed why Jews of Color didn't come to the camp or if they did it was only for one summer and they didn't come back.

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When I was in high school I dated an Indian girl. My parents did not mind but my grandparents were very bothered and would make jokes constantly. They would talk about how it was just a phase and that i would "get my head straight" eventually.