"What are you?" — a question I get a lot. I do look a little racially ambiguous, but most can tell I'm black and white. Unless I start speaking Spanish to someone, then it's assumed I'm Hispanic. A few have no clue until I tell them. I've got hair thicker and way more coarse than a white person's hair, but my hair texture isn't that of a typical black person's either. My skin is darker, which goes along with dark eyes as well. It's a somewhat ethnic and unique look yet is only the tip of the iceberg in trying to define myself.

I've always struggled to find a sense of racial clarity. Being biracial has meant that I have a very good sense of how both black and white people are expected to function and act socially. But when it comes to being biracial, social expectations are a little ambiguous, to say the least. I attempt to change what I do and how I act around both races depending on who exactly I'm interacting with, but to be honest a lot of my social anxiety stems from not really understanding how to function and interact around either race. Growing up around two distinct races meant that a lot of behaviors and social expectations reserved for one race can be frowned upon by the other. My parents had very distinct and different parenting styles, each parenting style expected of the race they are a part of. It led to massive confusion for me, through no fault of their own. I just was never sure why such different behaviors were expected from both races.

The problem with society is that we think in boxes. I need to think and behave like one race, and I can't be two things at the same time. A choice has to be made in different scenarios, which has led to constantly asking which part of myself I like better. Growing up, I consistently saw people of color treated as lesser. I never saw them living in good places with good careers. My dad is my biggest role model in the sense that he taught me the system doesn't have to play out against me. He pushed for me to get my education and do impressive things in life. My dad works a good job, however, to his frustration, the higher in the ranks he gets, the lower the diversity level gets as well. He is my biggest cheerleader in the sense he taught me to fight this societal motif.

To contrast, while the white side of my family does pretty bad money wise, I grew up with the understanding that white neighborhoods and places are inherently more stable and less violent just from what I saw personally and on TV. Regardless to say, me having to choose between two races seemed unfair and counter-intuitive as both races raised me and gave me life, regardless of the history or stigma surrounding both. However, far too often it came to choosing between the oppressors and the oppressed.

The cultural sensitivity I've gained through being biracial puts me at a very distinct advantage, whether or not society chooses to acknowledge it. I know firsthand the issues both races endure and have no implicit bias towards either. I know the ignorance that fills the phrase "I don't see color," because I do. Every single day. And maybe if we could learn how to build empathy for each race and come to an understanding as to the norms, behaviors and issues that are exclusive to one race, we wouldn't be so eager to put biracial people into categories and boxes. Being biracial doesn't mean I have to view myself in a bipartisan way.