Truthout

(Image: Jared Rodriguez / Truthout)When anyone asked, "What are you?" I didn't mind. I laughed and told them, "I am a black girl." When they persisted and asked, "No, where are you from?" I'd laugh again and say, "The East Coast, baby!" If they gave me a look, I'd smile and tell them this:

"I'm part Bermudian, Bajan, Jamaican, English, French, German, Scotch-Irish, Native American and, obviously I'm African. But of course we don't know from where. Some people have mad loot. I have mad DNA." Depending on the asker, I would add, "But really I'm just a light-skinned black girl."

And I was. Really, I was. As black as can be, and free to be me. I once was a real black girl. Until a few months ago…