Getting followed when I walked into certain stores or having a white woman press her bag to her chest as my family passed by was not something I noticed until I experienced my first run-in with racism with someone I personally knew. Looking back, tiny acts of racism that have occurred, even from a young age, are now magnified and added to a list of racially motivated acts people of color face. The first experience, that I can remember, was in third grade.
As a young child, I always wanted to know more about my family’s heritage made me giddy. My parents would get annoyed because of all the questions I would ask, yet there was excitement from talking about their family and home in the Caribbean. I would follow my parents around the house, bouncing around from room to room, bombarding them with questions. asking,
“Where are you from?”
“Where in Haiti were you born?”
“Where are your parents from?''
My family and family friends are predominantly from Haiti so I never acknowledged the Dominican Republic as part of my ethnicity. My father’s mother was born in the Dominican Republic and so was her mother, so on and so on.
I had this desire to claim and get to know more about both my Haitian and Dominican culture, yet I was always swung to my Haitian and “black” roots. If it was learning french and creole from a young age or my mom trying to teach me how to make Haitian dishes, I was reminded of my Haitian culture. Societal norms on how a race should look or act have impacted my own view of myself and my race.
It was not until the third grade that I became excited to tell someone outside my family that I was part Dominican. I wanted to spill the beans about my family because my friend, at the time, was Dominican herself. This friend loved talking about how her family was Dominican. From her hair, to being bilingual, she had to let everyone know her heritage.
It was lunchtime and we were all hurrying down the stairs to get to the cafeteria. Enthusiastically I slammed my lunch tray down and before any of us could reach to eat our food I blurted out...
“I’m Dominican!”
“No you’re not, you’re black.”
The usual lively expression my friend carried had changed. She had a look of disdain with a hint of revulsion. I cannot explicitly remember if I tried to explain that I am not only black, but I definitely remember wanting to explain my ethnicity.
The words -No you’re not, you’re black- were said instinctively, as if she heard this before. I felt that nothing would change her mind. Nothing would change the way she saw how a Dominican girl should look like, I did not look Dominican so I was not.
For the rest of lunch and afterward I was silent. I had mixed emotions of embarrassment forever thinking I was more than just black, and I was angry. I especially didn’t like having my race being thrown back at me like an insult. I was angry because someone, especially a friend, would dismiss me and my racial identity that quickly. I was also hurt because something I found exciting was not found, not even an ounce as exciting to someone who I cared for their opinion of me. If someone who is a Dominican said I was not Dominican I was not. Calling myself something else felt like a lie and now a betrayal to my Haitian culture because it was the culture that claimed me.
At the time I thought I cared so much for her opinion because she was my friend. Looking back it was truly because her strong pride and identity of being Dominican was somewhat the equivalent to the whole Dominican population. Her rejection of my identity and ancestry felt as though it was rejection from the Dominican culture in its entirety.
Looking back on this experience I have come to understand that no one should make anyone feel this way. Yes, we were all young, but one should not have the power to make anyone feel as though they have pushed aside a part of their identity. Since society continually pushes this view of being one or the other, I have since struggled to venture into my Dominican roots. Although I am distraught about not having yet learned more about my Dominican culture, I am happy to say that I am Haitian! I have learned, and still am learning more and more about my Haitian family, food, music, politics, history, and more. One day, I hope I can say the same about Dominican culture as well.
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