I Didn't Know I was White

We all know the infamous scene from Mean Girls, "So if you're from Africa why are you White?", that basically described my first two to three years in the United States except switch African with Caribbean or Latina. I don't know if it's because the rest of the world identifies with their nationality instead of their race (shocking, I know) but I didn't know I was "white" until middle school when my American classmates would tell me that's my race here. Growing up on the side of the world I grew up in, everyone identified with their nationality, no one ever really said their race because well we can see your race. So when I came to the States and spoke my horrible English and my classmates would be intrigued and ask where I was from and they would guess all these European countries I would shock them by answering with a Caribbean island.

"But you're White, shouldn't you be mixed or Black?" I would always be confused by that response because coming to the States I, and the rest of the world, thought White was synonym with American, which I wasn't so I didn't claim White. I've witness first generation European immigrants say they're not White because they thought it also meant American; just like my Afro-Caribbean friends also going through the stage of saying they're not Black because they think it means African American. It's an immigrant phase, y'all wouldn't understand. It's like asking a(n) (Afro) Dominican if they're Black and they say no, they think you're asking them they're nationality. I knew what my skin looked like I just thought they were asking me if I was born in the US, so I would say no and keep identifying with my nationality for years like an idiot.

Now here's the thing, when I finally learned that Americans identified with their race instead of just plain "American" then I realized that in this country, based on my skin, I am indeed a White. Found out I am considered Caucasian in this country, the same category Taylor Swift is in; weird. At least I was in that category in middle and high school; things got complicated in college. In college I would start wearing makeup to emphasize my lips (something that would get comments from my southern classmates growing up), and I started to let my hair be more in it's natural state. My skin stayed the same. So in college when I would be asked what I was I would say my nationality still (because it's always cooler not saying White lol) and then I would get the occasional "Oh cool, but what's your race then?", "Oh umm I guess White". That's when discussions would arise in college that never arose in middle or high school. "Well, technically wouldn't you be mixed or something not fully white white?", "Well in my eyes you mixed" or my favorite "Wooow so you just gonna ignore your ancestors like that huh, the self-hate is real in your community". Sir, wHAT. Yea a whole 180 degrees different from what I heard growing up. Coming here I was questioned on why my skin was so white and hair so straight for a Latina and now sometimes I get questioned on why I'm not claiming to be black. *points at American map* I am confusion (RIP Vine).

"You don't look white white, you sure you White?", "I'm actually Latina, I thought you were asking my race.""Ohhhhh nah, but I see it yea ok so not White". So now Latina is my race as an adult? Or were people smarter in middle school about ethnicity and race? I always identify with my nationality when meeting someone or when anyone asks me what I am because that is the foundation of my identity. The difference now as an adult is people want to know why I say my race is White. (Because y'all told me for like five years it was White)

Even though I have no cultural or emotional connection to saying I am White, hence why I always say my nationality, saying Latina rubs some Latin Americans the wrong way too. I tried joining a Latin American club and was told my culture was "too Caribbean" and they didn't know if I would fit in. The Jamaicans didn't want me in their club either.

This must be how Cady Heron felt in a sense.