A few months ago, I was visiting my boyfriend in New York. While walking down the sidewalks, as one does, there were people trying to sell us tickets to comedy shows and tourist bus rides. And anyone who's ever been to New York can tell you this is a pretty normal occurrence. It is. The only reason I'm writing about this was the fact that one of those vendors yelled after us, "Half Black, half White, half-off!"

It's a small moment, but it's months later and I still think about it. Which, to me, means it's significant.

I know I'm white passing. At first glance, a lot of people assume I am White. It doesn't help that I don't have an accent when I speak English. It's not until people see my last name that they realize, "Woah, she's Latina!"

But it matters. It matters that I'm from Puerto Rico, born and raised. It matters that my grandparents are from Ponce and Peñuelas. It matters that my maternal grandmother is from Chile. It matters that I grew up speaking Spanish and eating arroz y habichuelas. It matters that I cheered when Zuleika Rivera won Miss Universe in 2006 and that Don Francisco was a part of my childhood as much as Kim Possible because my grandma watched it every Saturday night.

My identity is not something that can be erased because I go to a majority white school and a good portion of my housemates and classmates and sorority sisters are white. My identity is mine, and it's not something that everyone can see, especially not at first glance, but it's part of a bigger problem. People take White to be the default. And it's not. It never has been.

The fact that I watch American TV, the fact that I speak near-perfect English with no accent, the fact that since I was nine I have been reading English language books, that I am fascinated by the English language as a whole, none of that erases the fact that my name is Adriana Rodríguez, I was born in el Hospital del Maestro in Hato Rey, San Juan, Puerto Rico, I attended Colegio Lourdes and my favorite teacher was Jaime Juarbe. Nothing erases the fact that I am Latina.

I am a woman of color, and that is important. It's not the most important thing about my identity or myself as a person, but it is an important part of me. And living in the U.S. certainly makes it important.

I don't feel like I benefit off white privilege, and in terms of resumes and applications I won't. But my boyfriend knows that when we're both walking down the street, people see him and assume the worst. No one sees me and thinks I'm any of the stereotypes attached to Latina women, but they see him and probably at the very least think those stereotypes about him.

Being in the relationship I am... It's made me think a lot about the perception of race and race relations in this country. Not that the recent climate hasn't made me aware. I've always been aware. But this feels much more personal. And much more dangerous.