I grew up in a time where I didn’t know of any other mixed-race people. Where the police were called because a black man was playing with a ‘white’ child in the park. Times of hiding, times of tension, but always an undercurrent of pride for who I was and for the parents who made me. A quiet, internal celebration of being different, of knowing what others did not know.
The hiding is easy. It’s easy when your skin untouched by the sun is white. When you straighten your hair. When your father moves out and you move to a new white town with a new white stepfather. You know the joy of two worlds. You live in one and visit the other. On the edge of both, internalizing the cliche of never quite belonging.
The silent infiltrator of prejudice who can hear the racism undetected and know the ugly truth of some but also the beauty of others.
I tell myself it doesn’t matter. I am kind. I am compassionate. I am inclusive.
I am also shameful. I carry the shame of living years in secrecy. A betrayer of truth.
It’s such an uncomfortable thing. Race. How do you tell people what you are when they can’t see it? How do you confront after you hear something that was not meant for your ears? When the first boy you ever kissed later spews words you never wanted to hear?
And yet sometimes, even in your youth, you stand up. You feel good. And then one time you stand up from a table and walk out of the restaurant because you didn’t like the ugly racism that you heard. A small act…a big ripple. Three children even. How would you know that the uncomfortable thing, the divisive thing that sent you out of the restaurant would be admired? The standing up, the race, the everything was admired. That one day one of the people sitting at that table would seek you out and become your partner?
It is 2016. My first son is born and I am awash in media coverage on terrorism. I hold my child and I am very afraid. Too afraid to give my son the Persian last name of his father. Then a second son and a third. I perpetuate the hiding. The old fears anew.
I am working on it.
Sometimes I paint ‘beauty’. All its colour and joy. But it’s black and white that I hold closest. The tension, the familiarity, I love it most.
You won’t find a website or social media account with my artwork. I’ve operated most of my life in the shadows.
An application for a little box in the open, out of the shadow. A small step with a secret intention. But I’ve learned that a small act can lead to a big ripple.