The Freckled Phoenician: A social commentary on race, and being “not quite white”

Recently, someone very dear to me made some racist remarks. Because of my affection for this person and the value that I place in our relationship, these comments were particularly stinging. This is certainly not the first time this person has said such things, knowing full well that I am of mixed heritage, but most of the time, I choose to ignore these words in an effort to maintain the peace. Some arguments don’t deserve my attention.

I know that this is not the first time I have written about my frustrations with race and ethnicity here, but there are a few things that have continued to resurface in recent weeks that have got me feeling all the feelings again. I wish I could clearly articulate these feelings to you, but unless you have experienced bigotry or under-representation yourself, it’s hard to describe.

When I was in my mid-twenties, the US Census came around and was getting some mild coverage in the news. On a particular NPR show that I was listening to at the time, an Arab-American man was speaking about the misrepresentation of the Middle Eastern diaspora in America. There was a campaign going on called “Check It Right, You Ain’t White”, encouraging Americans of Arabic and Middle Eastern descent to check the “Other” box on the Census form. Without attempting to tackle the idea of "The Other" and the possible implications of checking a box labeled as such, let's just say for our purposes here that this was an effort to separate people on government issued documents to ensure equal representation.

This issue frustrated me. I imagined that if I checked “Other” and wrote “Lebanese” in the space provided that the person (or machine) processing my official, federal form would just throw it in the “white” pile. In essence, I as an individual human being with a complex and diverse heritage would be thrown into the “white” pile for the sake of convenience.

Now, I am half white. (Well, approximately. I know I also have Cherokee and Iroquois heritage from my mother, but I don’t know how much of either.)  I am not opposed to white, but it isn’t 100% of how I identify. In fact, I identify as brown (perhaps "tan", if you mix brown + white). My husband is white. Our son is black. My daughter identifies as cheetah (this week), but she falls somewhere between brown and white. Why should my husband and son get to be represented as straight up "black" or "white", but not my daughter and me? Does it seem fair to you that everyone from black to white to Asian to Native to Islander to Hispanic should get a box, but not Middle Eastern? By definition, the Middle East is not white, but a crossroads of THREE continents: Europe, along with Asia and Africa. All three continents get represented, so why should a person from Egypt (Africa) or Iran (Asia) be lumped in with “white” (Europe, traditionally)? It makes no sense to me.

If you don't buy these arguments, try this one on for size.  The Latino population in America gets a box.  They have a recognized culture in the United States and, although many of them are mislabeled as "Mexican" (even if they are Guatemalan or Bolivian...), they share a language and a number of cultural similarities.  Now, let's rewind history a bit to about the sixteenth century.  Where did Latin America get its modern languages?  As we all know, most of the Latin world speaks Spanish, so their language came from (duh) Spain.  Portuguese speaking Brazil got its language from Spain's closest neighbor, Portugal.  (Duh again.)  During the colonization of the western hemisphere, most of us will agree that both Spain and Portugal imposed their values and cultures on the indigenous people groups of what we now call Latin America.  In fact, a huge percentage of Latin Americans have some kind of European ancestry.  If we go even further back in time -let's say to the Middle Ages- can anyone tell me what people groups had an enormous hold on southern Europe so much so that it caused panic on the continent and fanned the flames for Christianity's biggest embarrassment?  Anyone, anyone?  

The Moors!!!  And from whence came the Moors?  North Africa, mammajamma!  Anyone know what we sometimes call people of Moorish blood?  Arabic people.  Say wha????  Spain, Portugal, southern France – they are riddled with Arabic influence, not just in modern politics, but in over a millennium’s worth of history.  Check out this minaret in Seville's most famous cathedral:

Many of Spain's most famous religious monuments went back and forth between the hands of Christian Spaniards and Muslim Moors.  This cathedral itself is a testament to the influence of the Arab world on Spain…

Spain who, in turn, influenced most of Latin America…

Latin America, who gets its own box on the census…

I’m just sayin’.

You guys ever heard of Emilio Estefan?  Salma Hayek?  Zoe Saldana?  Shakira?  All of Lebanese descent.

Since the United States Census of about a decade ago, I haven’t had a lot of forms to complete that demand my ethnicity.  If it comes up, I usually just check “prefer not to respond”, since there are no options that fit me.  Think I’m being bogus?  Check out what the Duchess of Sussex had to say on the subject of checking boxes:

“There was a mandatory census I had to complete in my English class – you had to check one of the boxes to indicate your ethnicity: white, black, Hispanic or Asian. There I was (my curly hair, my freckled face, my pale skin, my mixed race) looking down at these boxes, not wanting to mess up, but not knowing what to do. You could only choose one, but that would be to choose one parent over the other – and one half of myself over the other. My teacher told me to check the box for Caucasian. 'Because that's how you look, Meghan,' she said. I put down my pen. Not as an act of defiance, but rather a symptom of my confusion. I couldn't bring myself to do that, to picture the pit-in-her-belly sadness my mother would feel if she were to find out. So, I didn't tick a box. I left my identity blank – a question mark, an absolute incomplete – much like how I felt.  When I went home that night, I told my dad what had happened. He said the words that have always stayed with me: 'If that happens again, you draw your own box.'”

(For the complete article, click here: https://www.elle.com/uk/life-and-culture/news/a26855/more-than-an-other/)

You might say that the differences in my ethnic background are not as stark as Meghan Markle’s.  After all, she’s black and white whereas I’m just brown and white.  OK fine, but now, I’m having to answer that question for my five-year-old when I enroll her in kindergarten.  Not cool, America.  Not cool.

I am, in every way, a blend of my parents. From my white mother, I inherited light colored eyes (mine are grey, hers are green) and brown hair. From my Arabic father, I inherited olive skin and angular features. I have faint freckles around my eyes, nose, and mouth from goodness knows where; neither of my parents have freckles.  Other things I inherited from my parents?  My dad’s perfectionist nature and my mom’s devil-may-care attitude towards the world; my dad's enthusiasm for fitness and my mom's love of coffee and tea; my dad's sense of adventure and my mom's sense of stability.

But they don’t have boxes for those on the Census or on kindergarten registration forms.

If you still think that Arabic = white, let me present one final argument.  Did anyone tell the pretty white girl in elementary school that she looked like a witch because of her big crooked nose?  Were the redheads concerned after 9/11 that people would treat them differently?  Did the Johnsons or the Smiths ever worry about getting stopped for a “random” check at the airport?  By checking the “white” box, I would be minimizing those life experiences that have helped shape who I am as a person, and I’m not about to deny those.

I am white.  I am brown.  I am me.

And if you have a problem with that, I invite you to check this box:

□ Asshole