What are you?

I'll never forget the first time someone asked me "so what are you?" So what am I? I didn't understand the question. Does she mean what year am I in college? What major am I in? In an attempt to clear up my obvious confusion she proceeded to suggest various Asian races --and then it registered, she was asking me my ethnicity! I was well aware of my smaller shaped eyes as it is a common trait amongst my Dad's side of the family, but never had it occurred to me that a person would actually mistaken me for being Asian. I explained to her that other than my Mom's Mom being half Panamanian I was pretty much full on white. I wasn't the least bit offended by her assumption, if anything I found it kind of awesome. I've always found people that are a product of mixed ethnicities to be exotic and beautiful. Checking Caucasian on forms has always made me feel, well... plain. I’m from a small town where if you don’t know the person you at least know of the person or someone related to the person. So if anyone back home had ever entertained the possibility of me being part Asian then they either a) saw my parents and realized I’m not or b) just chose to never say anything. But here I was, my very first year of college living away from friends and family in a new town anxious to meet new people. I expected this year to be filled with many “firsts” but the fact that someone believed I was anything other than white was one first that I had not anticipated. My mind was racing. If she thought that, had anyone else thought that before and just never voiced it? Will more new people I meet think the same? There was something thrilling about my discovery and I was all sorts of giddy.

Still, in the midst of all the excitement there was something about the question that bothered me.

“What are you?”

I'm a person.

I'm Lauren.

I’m me.

Maybe it's because I'm white and had never been asked that question before, or perhaps I am reading too far into this, but I couldn’t help but feel slightly offended. Not offended for me per say, more offended on behalf of all those that are noticeably mixed and consequently asked a lot. I know the girl wasn't asking it to be rude, she was asking it because she was curious. I guarantee I have asked that very same question to others as well. But once I heard the question posed to me personally I felt a little weird, as if I just digested a delicious piece of candy and then was left with a bad lingering after taste. An individual shouldn’t be defined by their ethnicity and yet the wording of the question seems to insinuate just that. It also can feel intrusive. Again, for me the situation was more of a funny one, but imagining being a person that is constantly asked “what are you?” I can see not only how annoying that would get, but even less obviously how it may impact that person’s perception of them self. Without realizing it, we are reducing this person to just their ethnicity. The question is simple, but the answer is not. It's not simple because we are all a multitude of things. Assuming that a person should automatically understand what you're asking when you say "what are you?" is kind of a slap in the face. Maybe it's not a back handed bitch slap, but it can sting just as bad. If you really feel the urge to ask someone, then at the very least the question should be rephrased. Something as simple as “So, what ethnicity are you?” would be an improvement. But before you ask, it might be good to look within yourself and answer why you feel the need to know? Sometimes our mind tricks us into believing our motive is more simple or innocent then it actually is…I don’t know, I’m not an expert in sociology by any means and I could be completely off base with this one, but it’s interesting to think about none the less.

I find incidents that tap into an issue that you never even knew existed to be intriguing as well as humbling. It helps you reevaluate yourself and reminds you of the more obvious reality, which is YOU DON’T KNOW EVERYTHING.

**and breath

Sorry with all this serious talk! Totally not what I intended for this post when I sat down to write it. In fact, what triggered this topic was simply a recent visit to a Japanese Steakhouse for lunch with friends. The guy cooking for us asked me if I was Asian. On the rare occasion I do get asked I always have this urge to say yes, but seeing as though my own personal Jiminy Cricket accompanies me wherever I go aka I have a guilty conscience aka I can’t even bring myself to lie to a complete stranger, even if it is a small white lie (pun intended)-- I once again confess the boring truth that I am in actuality just plain ole’ white. He had thought I was half Korean half white and when I expressed my regret that I wasn’t he responded that it was okay as long as I’m not blonde. If this were a scene in a movie or tv show now would be the precise moment that I’d have the camera zoom out from a close up of me to reveal my four blonde girlfriends seated at the same table.

Yup.