January 27, 2018
9:01 p.m.

Once upon a time, after having spent an afternoon with various school chums who were discussing heritage (not very seriously--we might have been third-graders at the time) and learning that some of my classmates had ancestors who may have arrived on the Mayflower (!), I came home and asked my parents, "What am I?"

"A nosy little girl," my mother informed me seriously.

"Mom!"

"A bossy big sister," my father added.

"No!" I cried. "I mean, where did I come from?"

There was a nervous glance exchanged between the parents, and than Dad asked Mom, "You want to take this one?"

Mom shook her head and rolled her eyes. "I don't think she means what you think she means," she informed Dad. "What do you want to know?"

"Were we Pilgrims?" I blurted. "Or Indians? Or...I dunno...Vikings, maybe?"

Mom's jaw dropped a little and Dad started laughing. Always a good start, right?

"Uh, no," Mom began.

"You're a Heinz 57," Dad finished, still chuckling.

"I'm...steak sauce?"

Now he really laughed. "Kind of," he said. "There's a pretty good mix of herbs and spices in you."

My first lesson in mixed-races, that was. And the more ancestry studies I do, the more appropriate Dad's "Heinz 57" reference becomes.

My father's ancestors were in the Americas nearly a century before the landing at Plymouth Rock. The first date I have found on the North American continent is around 1530. They were primarily from Spain, but there were also some from Portugal. In later centuries, there was a French ancestor, whose name--much altered through various misspellings--we carry today.

There are Native Americans involved, but I haven't been able--so far--to narrow down actual tribal roots. The area where families settled were populated with many different indigenous peoples.

My mother's ancestors came to this continent much later, leaving homes in Scotland, Ireland, England and Germany in the early to mid 1800s. Many of the British relations came with the "Saints" of the Mormon church in search of a New Zion. Those who came from Germany and Prussia and possibly Austria more likely came for reasons other than religious persecution.

What is interesting to me, is the fact that within a couple of generations, my direct maternal line had all left the LDS church in the past and embraced Catholicism. There are probably more than a few stories to be found regarding that change in religion. Believe me, I'm looking into it. (I know a little!)

Growing up, we were also told that we had ancestors from Wales. So far, I haven't found them. But I'm looking!

Okay, maybe too much information here, but I have a point.

I grew up a mixed-race child who appeared wholly white. My sisters did and still do look more like the ethnic mix that makes up our bloodline: Hispanic and American Indian, German and Scots, Irish and French. God knows what else. I often felt outside even while dwelling on the inside, because I felt like a puzzle-piece that didn't quite fit in the picture. Seven family members, and I was the only one with blue eyes. I was the only one who ever got a sunburn. Where did I come from? Why was I different?

I was a teenager the first time I heard someone reference people of color who were light-skinned enough to "pass" for white. I was slightly horrified; did the darker-skinned members of my family ever think I was trying to "pass" as something else? Was I?

More recently, the phrase "white privilege" has given me pause, especially since my own children have accused me of being given a "pass" from time to time due to my apparent all-whiteness.

I hate census forms, application forms, ANY forms that ask me to identify my ethnicity, because I don't know what to answer. Caucasian OR Hispanic/Latino. Caucasian OR Native American. Why are the Hispanic and Latino bundled? Those are two distinct origins. If I choose Native American, can I choose a tribe? What if I don't know? And did you ever notice that if you are filling out these forms online, you can almost never choose more than one? At least on a paper form you can make several check marks.

Finally, FINALLY, I'm seeing forms that say things like "mixed race" or "mark all that apply". There is finally a public acknowledgment that the question isn't straightforward. But there aren't a lot of those forms out there yet.

In the meantime, my son reminds me that I have never been pulled over for driving in a predominately white neighborhood. That police tend to speak to me respectfully, that none have ever put hands on me, and that I have literally gotten fewer than five tickets in my life for anything. "Bat those baby-blues, flash a smile and get a warning."

He, on the other hand--or his sisters--get invited to step out of the car, get patted down, get the ticket and sometimes even get a trip to jail.  It was never a matter of wrong place, wrong time. It was a matter of wrong place, wrong color.

It is the 21st Century. The United States is a true "melting pot"; there's no way that purely Caucasian people outnumber those of us who are Heinz 57s.

Why on earth is there still even a hint of "white privilege"?

Why are my children repeatedly asked to produce their green cards? They were born in Wyoming to a blue-eyed mama from Idaho. Their father is a citizen of the USA.

I'm afraid to ask them how many times they may have been told to "go back where you came from."

And me--the white-enough Mom? There has never been a thing I could do to fix things, and never a time when I could completely understand their feelings of frustration, helplessness and anger over being targeted because their own skin was a shade or two darker than mine. How can I? I can try, I can empathize, but the truth is, consciously or not, I AM white enough and I DO pass, and therefore, I can never really get it.

I used to argue this with them. But they are right--I can't understand.

But here's the thing--I shouldn't have to, because it should never happen to anyone. Not anyone.

People need to stop making assumptions about others based on race--or apparent race, for that matter.

I had a friend back in the day who was mixed race, Black and Irish. Big green eyes, dark, curly red hair, tawny skin. Beautiful. She never actively tried to "pass", but people assumed. She'd go out somewhere with her sister, who was a self-described "black and beautiful" woman, and no one believed they were sisters. "Were you adopted?" Or, "You're half-sisters, right?" Or any number of other assumptions. After witnessing this a few times, I could only conclude that people are rude and foolish, and should learn when to keep silent so no one else will discover their rude foolishness.

We turn our how we turn out. I got blue eyes from my grandfather. I didn't always like the fact that they made me different from all the rest of my family, but now, whenever a new baby comes along, I hope one of them will get my grandpa's blue eyes. (One out of nine. Hmmm...) See, I tried brown contact lenses once after years of wanting to be like everyone else, and...let's just say God got it right. Paula with brown eyes was just...weird.

Still--I wish I could go outdoors when the sun is out without worrying about burning.

But mostly I just wish I was taller. And thinner.

And it would be seriously cool to discover that I'm descended from Vikings. Because, Vikings! Right?

(I have given up on Cherokee princess. MOST unlikely.)

I am a Heinz 57, and so are my children, and theirs. I'm tired of the fact that any one of them could suffer from discrimination, but these days it seems like we all are. We are too dark, too light, too short, too female, too noisy, too whatever.

"We hold these truths to be self-evident: That all men are created equal."--Thomas Jefferson.

Uh huh.

This is undeniably the most influential of statements in an American document, but our country seems determined to put every man, woman and child into a box, point to them and declare, "Different."

It makes me sad to see how little we've progressed, and sadder still to see the rapid regression taking place before my very eyes.

What century will it be before people learn to get along?

Ouch, my head. I thought too much.

Good night!