I am an oreo. I am white chocolate. I am a zebra. I am a domino. I am half n half. I am a latte.

Yes, I am biracial.

My mom is Italian and German, white, and my dad is of African American descent, black. This means half my extended family burns in the sun and the other never has to tan for bathing suit season. And me, well I stopped putting on sunscreen a few years ago because I never burn, just tan.

If you take a glance at me, I look black, lighter than some, but black nonetheless. No one notices the white in me until they meet my mom and think I'm adopted. Then when they meet my dad, it makes sense.

1. It used to confuse me why people couldn't see that I was part white without me telling them.

And when I did tell them, it was a huge shock. It wasn't just kids when I was younger, but adults and professors as recent as last semester. The professor asked any Catholic with Italian heritage in them to raise their hands. When I put my hand up, he did a double take, then questioned me again, as if I hadn't heard the question correctly. I told him that I was, he let it go, but I'm not sure he ever accepted it. It didn't offend me but made me think a little.

2. I didn't understand why people questioned me when I introduced one of my white cousins as my cousin.

I grew up with my cousins on my mom's side of the family, going to the same schools, playing on the same teams and hanging out on the weekends and after school. We grew up like any cousins, playing in the bath together and going on vacations together. The only difference from "normal" cousins is our skin tones are significantly different from each other. It only ever occurred to me when someone didn't believe that we were related and thought we were joking around. Then we'd have to explain how our moms are sisters and my mom is white. It hasn't happened in awhile, but when it did, it hurt a little.

3. On the contrary, when I'm with my dad's side of the family, I feel too white.

I've grown up in a predominantly white neighborhood and I only have one or two black friends. I've grown up white. Most of my friends and I grew up in the Catholic church, so when I hear my relatives talking about their church services or when I attend a service that takes over three hours, I get nervous like everyone expects me to know what to do because I'm black. Except I'm only half black and the half that isn't, really stands out in these times.

4. My hair was not like any of my friends or any of my cousins.

It was so thick and curly, but according to everyone else, it was beautiful, especially to the people who didn't have to comb and brush it out. Broken hair ties were a common occurrence in my house, at least three a day. And unfortunately, that has not changed.

5. I couldn't imagine my life being any different.

6. I am a person with two parents, who may be different races, but it doesn't matter to me and it shouldn't matter to anyone else.

I am and always will be black and white.