Description
I wonder why people feel like they have the right to ask me about my personal life. I don't know how many times a day I am asked, "Who are you? Where are you from? What are you mixed with?" My replies to those people are, "Why do you care where I'm from? It is your business to know what I am mixed with? How dare you overstep your boundaries and violate my space? Society judges my skin color, my hair, and my exotic features. It does not accept me for being who I am. I often hear, "You are too light to be black" or "You are too dark to be white." They size me up with their eyes of hate as if I asked for their opinion. I don't owe you an explanation. I am not on trial because of my background. I didn't choose my race. I did not ask to be here -- but I am here. I am not ashamed of who I am. You asked me, "Who am I?" The real question is, why are you obsessed with my race? Why is it any of your concern? I am Stella. I am 16 years old, and I am proud of who I am! I am biracial, and I am a human being just like you.
Why Are You Obsessed with My Race?
