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In junior high I would get in trouble for hanging out with the Black and Hispanic kids. I wasn’t allowed to leave the house because of it. It made me really sad because all my female friends were Hispanic. My biological father is Mexican but I grew up with my white mom and my adoptive (white) father. They would use obscene words to describe POC, which really messed with my own identity.

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I was in elementary school and after not recognizing a friend's mom, she joked, "all us white people look alike" in unwanted racial solidarity. It was in front of a group of kids and (we were all white) we were all horrified, felt very awkward. Aside from this, the biggest message I received about race was silence. 

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I was in elementary school and after not recognizing a friend's mom, she joked, "all us white people look alike" in unwanted racial solidarity. It was in front of a group of kids and (we were all white) we were all horrified, felt very awkward. Aside from this, the biggest message I received about race was silence. 

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I was always teased that I didn't sound black enough or act black and got constant questions on what  I was "mixed with"

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I was about 5th grade when one of my neighborhood friend's mom made comments about another neighborhood family that was Hispanic. She made comments about not wanting us to spend as much time around their kids. It was a negative message.

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aunt reprimanded how I acting around white people , don't remember how old I was

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Colorism I was about 5 or 6 years old and my cousin was coming to school with me. My cousin is much darker that I am and I remember thinking/feeling sad that my friends would judge her for being darker.

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Colorism I was about 5 or 6 years old and my cousin was coming to school with me. My cousin is much darker that I am and I remember thinking/feeling sad that my friends would judge her for being darker.

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As a young child all of my best friends were of a different race than me. Other classmates and even some of family members would make comments that made me feel very uncomfortable and like it was "wrong" .

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During visits once or twice a year to my grandparents on my mother's side, I was exposed to my grandfather's overt racism. The messages I remember most were negative and confusing, such as referring to a black person as the n word, perhaps complimenting a celebrity (but with negative connotations as well), being very angry about a black family moving in next door to my grandparents.

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One of my earliest memories of a conversation about race is of my parents telling me that just because someone is Black we shouldn't treat them differently. Lately, I've thought more about how on the surface this sounds like a good message, but  underneath was the fact that my parents didn't have any Black friends and the words they used also underscored that discrimination was the accepted norm in society.

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We had Black neighbors move in next door. I had Black classmates and friends, but when they moved in, my mom told us what kind of words weren't appropriate; they were things I had never heard before and I had never thought about there being specific "bad words" for people because of their race. I was young, but it started the thought process about how people from different racial backgrounds experience the world.

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I went to a k-12 school that was dominated by white, wealthy folks. One of my first memories of race comes up in memory of an Indian boy who died by suicide when I was in 5th grade. He was a junior in the high school, and though Indian, was remembered in my 6th grade year negatively as being "the same" as those who made 9/11 happen and I recall folks making jokes about him and saying "he probably wore a turban."

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My (white) parents had a close friend who was Black. It was explained to me when I was very young (ca. 4 years old) that some people in our community/neighborhood wouldn't understand or accept this. The reason/s were not clear to me at the time but I began to understand when my best friend in 3rd grade, a Black girl, explained it to me.

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My (white) parents had a close friend who was Black. It was explained to me when I was very young (ca. 4 years old) that some people in our community/neighborhood wouldn't understand or accept this. The reason/s were not clear to me at the time but I began to understand when my best friend in 3rd grade, a Black girl, explained it to me.

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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.