In America, my appearance manages to wedge itself between who I am and who I am perceived to be. My investments in identity -- I assumed -- would eventually bring about a change whereby the walls of prejudice, like the walls of Jericho would come all but tumbling down around me. In the aftermath my soul would be rescued much like the stillness that follows a violent quake. All that had once confused and erroneously categorized me would regain perspective. The demons rushed from my soul would lay bare the insignificance of race and color freeing me to be what God had intended -- a thinking, feeling, whole human being. But that did not happen. Freedom of any sort does not come without a price. Carried with it -- in my experience -- is the revelation of why racial characteristics devour so much of the American soul. It shields the graver questions that cut to the heart of the American conscience. It is precisely a question of more value in who I am and less in who I appear to be. And in my journey from childhood to adulthood I have concluded that the connection between Americans of whatever hue, is the destiny invested in the possibility of an unadulterated all encompassing existence.

To escape adulteration, on the shores of this majestic terrain was founded the most ethnically and racially diverse nation the world has yet known. I can think of no other sovereignty, past or present, that can boast our numbers of so-called Negroid, Caucasoid, or Mongoloid groups in one geographic space. The fact that we have managed not only to survive but also to excel technologically in spite of our differences is a credit to the spirit of human endeavor. Unfortunately, that distinction has failed to enhance our quality of life. It has made us no less intolerant of the sufferings borne by those otherwise blessed with duality of heritage. In a curious twist of fate, more than anything else, it has enabled the relentless beast we call prejudice. It remains a tenacious threat because we can face in others only that which we can face in ourselves. Our unwillingness to confront the perils has unfurled about this entire nation a veil of uncertainty. Blinded by its obstruction, an identity suspended between black and white is cast in profanity. The resulting myopia extends from a very arcane concept of identity that threatens the myth of race some of us cling to so desperately.

From the womb of race mythology is born our cultural rhetoric. Rhetoric is the salve that soothes the sting of forced labels. Jaded by the inevitable conflict between who we are and who society forces us to be helps sustain the burden. After all, few are ignorant of the unspoken but profound assumptions that live in unfamiliar stares. They fashion the fishhooks and barbed wire that define the identities of some at the expense of others. It bestows validity upon the 'melting pot' sustaining the illusion that no matter what your creed or color, you may come here, work hard, and go as far as your talents will take you. It is what we romantically refer to as the American dream. For some that dream has become a reality. For those tainted by the nothingness cast upon biracial identity, the experience has been no less short of a nightmare. Thus, we who are born by mergence, in realizing the American dream have encountered an affront to our humanity. We struggle daily with the antagonisms of conventional identity from all corners of society risking caricature and ridicule for the future of our loved ones. In the end it all seems for naught. That racist monster we thought we had slain in the sixties has proven itself more virile than ever in the consequences. Hence, nearing the turn of the century we find America still wrestling with the ability of race to divide or taint.

I believe that the problem for any biracial American who allow themselves to be categorized by external influences will always be that he/she may ultimately make errors of judgment, which racial monoids would not. When that interpretation reaches widespread acceptance we run the risk of doing psychological damage to ourselves. In the grist of self worth I have determined dignity and respect take precedent. The solution for me lies in maintaining openness and a willingness to confront new ideas. Furthermore, those of us stained by the assumptions of black vs. white indulge in an extremely dangerous luxury. We seem to feel that because we are most often the victims of ridicule we have earned the right to be accepted by whomever willing. Some of us take no responsibility for the designation of self-identity.

Such notions beget the wine of ignorance. It is not possible for anyone who has not tasted resentment to know its bitterness. I am privy to those of an indefinite hue who prefer the company of same to escape the painful guessing games. Those games have sent many of us to our graves. Thus, it is much better to claim biracial than not simply because it may be threatening or misinterpreted. In the final analysis, men of whatever race cannot deny the dignity and humanity in another without diminishing some measure of their own. For in the image of one's victim is the reflection of one's self. Peer into the various faces of race to see what we've become. Believing that, it is my sincerest hope that those who define themselves as biracial can circumvent stereotypes or misinterpretations. They should be accepted instead as thinking, feeling, whole human-beings!

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