My Parents Made Me Think I Was White My Whole Life
This article was originally written in 2016.
I am probably black.
That statement in itself might look ridiculous to anyone who doesn't know me. To anyone who has stumbled across this article, seen a couple of my photos and thought:
Is this girl crazy?She's very clearly not white.
But for me, it sums up life as I've known it to be because for the longest time I grew up believing that I was.
White, that is.
And as unbelievable as that sounds, this went on for most of my life.
It wasn't until I lost my Dad last year, that I began to unravel the strange story that I'd grown up believing.
Because there's a lot about myself that I'm trying to find out, the story is still very much unravelling. But in order to stop myself from unravelling, I am traveling.
I'm growing through travel.
I am staying on the move.
Because my life was thrown into a permanent state of flux. So why not embrace the chaos?
I've decided to do it all on my own terms.
Growing Up White
Growing up, the word “black" was never used to describe me. I was never properly black, because I didn't talk black and I had zero cultural ties to anything considered black by the few black people I knew. To some, my features weren't black enough. To others, my very presence among white people all the time, was enough to negate my blackness.
But with a green-eyed Irish Mother, a white Father and a brother, who only had to step outside for 10 minutes to see his freckles multiply by the dozen, my own default was set as white, too.
My parents and I
I was told by my parents that I inherited my dark skin and curly hair from a distant ancestor on my Mother's side of the family.
And unless I probed my parents for answers (and I did so each and every time someone else reminded me that I just didn't look like I belonged) we just didn't talk about the likelihood of this story being true.
We got on with our lives. And I learned to bury my insecurities.
But as most non-white people will tell you, other people ask you justify your existence in a world where the default is set to white, ALL THE TIME.
So when my protective bubble of whiteness was popped with probing, persistent questions from strangers, it stung me because I never had an answer for why I was black.
On holiday as a kid, the reminders that I stood out like a sore thumb in a family where Factor 30+ sunscreen)was always a necessity in anything hotter than 64 F, always hit me like a freight train.
Was it possible I'd been adopted? How was I related to these people? Where did I get my hair from? Was I mixed, or Eritrean or just in denial?
Sometimes it was comical. Surrounded by white people on both sides of my family, I used to think my appearance in Christmas photos was funny. But I grew up never posting pictures of my family online because I cared too much what people thought.
My younger half-brother and me
When we visited my Mum's tiny town on the West coast of Ireland each year for my summer holidays (where you'd be hard-pushed to find anyone a shade up from milk-bottle-translucent, for miles) and I was told to “go back to Africa" — I wasn't particularly amused.
When aged seventeen, a teacher asked me in front of the whole class why I was marked down on the school system as “white-British" (not the smartest move from my parents, admittedly), I just didn't know what to say.
Looking back though, racial issues didn't take up too much of my headspace. But then again, that's because white people don't give too much thought to their whiteness unless they absolutely have to.
Unless they're forced to square up to their whiteness in the mirror and address how this sets them apart and above, other groups.
Not to mention, up until around the age of 16, I really believed I was white, too.
Not necessarily white in appearance, but more in the cultural, ethnic sense. I wasn't blind but I didn't believe I was black, either.
Mainly though, race was something I didn't think too much about unless other people asked me to explain myself.
My parents were ticking boxes that said I was “white-British," so to anyone who asked me, I was that too.
Luckily, I was surrounded with the kind of love from two parents that was so thick, so unwavering and so real, that sometimes I felt smothered by it. I never felt unloved. And I never felt like an outsider among the people that loved me.
But unfortunately, my family home was not a microcosm for the real world.
I did — and still do — get asked “where I'm from" around five times a month. I still don't know what to say.
On the rare occasions I heard ignorant friends or family members speak about blackness as an illness — as a concept that made people more threatening, or less attractive, or less palatable and then turned to me and said something like:
“Oh well, you're not black so it doesn't matter,"
or, “Yeah, but I'm not talking about you, am I?"
…that was alienating. THAT made me feel less than human. And so, I overcompensated. I grew louder and more confident than anyone else, because I felt I had no other option.
The Catalyst
But then two years ago my Father got really sick – and then last year he died. Like so many people who lose a parent from cancer, I found myself unable to function. My life and the life of my family was drained of colour. Things went grey, bleak, desolate.
I also felt extremely disconnected from who I was, or should I say, who I thought I was.
So when I reached rock bottom, I started to dig myself out. I started digging because my father's death was the catalyst for change and I felt that I didn't have anything left to lose. Half of my story had died with him, after all.
And so I did a DNA test in Easter 2016 and discovered that I'd never actually been related to the fantastic, funny, blue-eyed man who raised me — in the biological sense, anyway.
There's some material online about how to put yourself together after losing a parent. But the manual into how not to implode when you realise that parent was never related to you in the first place?
That one's unchartered territory, unsurprisingly and the news hollowed me out from the inside.
When I found out via email one afternoon at work in London that half my family weren't actually related to me, that I wasn't able to call my Dad my own anymore and that I probably had a whole other life waiting for me in a not-so-distant universe, it nearly broke me.
I must have left around five dents in the walls in the house I grew up in, whilst screaming at my Mum for an explanation, which came about slowly and painfully when I begged for it.
My Mum doesn't know much about this man (who I'll never call a Father), other than the fact he was “dark" and spoke with an Irish accent.
So I'm also coming to terms with the fact that I may never have that missing piece of my ethnic jigsaw puzzle either.
And after 23 years of saying I was British/Irish and something else unknown, I don't really know what I am.
And more than anything, I would love to know WHERE my blackness comes from.
Travel and Identity
So to overcome all this; the death, the lies, the awkward conversations, the lack of closure over my heritage and the near-collective family silence that has ensued since I've told everyone the truth — I've decided to travel.
To some, it might look like I'm running away from a series of painful experiences back home. To me, I'm delving head-first, arms wide, legs akimbo into my great unknown (read: non-white spaces) to see how that's going to help me define my own identity.
Because after 23 years, I've decided that my identity is going to be on my terms.
Whilst “blackness" is something I felt I could never really lay claim to, I also know there is no one-size-fits-all approach to being black.
And if I don't want to identify as black, I guess I don't have to.
There's still a part of me that feels as if I'm denying my Father, though (the one that raised me) by exploring this unknown part of my heritage.
I'll never want to replace my Dad, but I also feel a bit guilty that all he did for me wasn't enough to quell this deep-rooted desire within me, to find out where I come from, ethnically.
But then again, doesn't everyone deserve to know that?
At the moment, I guess I still don't really consider myself any different to the person my parents raised me to be. But after 23 years of not knowing why I look the way I do and finding out all this crazy, weird information, I feel…a shift in mindset.
And I plan on doing a DNA test to shed some more light into where my ancestors may have come from.
To be raised white when you're black is to feel like you're in a permanent state of flux with your identity; it's chaotic and confusing and so, I've chosen to embrace the chaos.
Adapting to white and black company growing up means I can feel at home almost anywhere and at the moment, the journey is my home.
Traveling helps me find out more about where my ethnic origins lie. It's the obvious and only way to facilitate my journey of personal growth, so I'm not going to stop.
Right now, I'm traveling to find out who I am and where I come from.
I'm traveling to shape myself into the person I want to be.
And I'm traveling to find my own identity – whatever that is.
Because I think I'm (probably) black.
Georgina Lawton is the author of Raceless (2021) and Black Girls Take World(2021) and the host of Audible's The Secrets In Us DNA podcast.
This article is sponsored by Hulu.
UnPrisonedhas returned for its highly anticipated second season, delving deeper into the complex dynamics of the Alexander family.
The series premiere comes a year after its debut season garnered rave reviews from fans and critics and earned record-breaking ratings for Hulu's Onyx Collective brand. UnPrisoned's success can be attributed to its raw, relatable themes and comedic appeal.
Inspired by creator Tracy McMillan's life, the show follows Paige (Kerry Washington), a therapist and single mother whose life takes an unexpected turn when her father, Edwin (Delroy Lindo) --who was released from prison-- moves in with her and her teenage son, Finn (Faly Rakotohavana).
Throughout UnPrisoned's first season, viewers witnessed how Edwin's incarceration deeply affected Paige's life and relationships. In the series, Paige unpacks her trauma through interactions with her inner child and her online followers. Meanwhile, Edwin is overcoming specific struggles with his own past that led to his life of crime, including a dysfunctional upbringing and his mother's arrest. As the Alexanders attempt to reconcile, new challenges arise.
This new season promises to further explore their unconventional family dynamic. Here are several compelling reasons why season two of UnPrisoned should be on everyone's watchlist.
The Alexander Family Life Is Still In Shambles
UnPrisoned's second season resumes where the series left off, with Paige grappling with the fallout from her troubled therapy practice and Edwin navigating life independently after moving out. Meanwhile, Finn faces his own challenges. The teenager is battling anxiety and seeking information about his father—a topic Paige avoids discussing.
The Alexander Family Are Attending Therapy To Resolve Their Underlying Issues
Amid the chaos in their lives, the Alexander family decides to mend their bond by confronting their past traumas. They seek professional help and attend therapy sessions with a “family radical healing coach,” played by John Stamos, a new cast member. This collective effort aims to unravel the complexities of their shared history and strengthen their relationships.
The process of unraveling each character's internal conflicts and their potential impact on future relationships may clash with Paige's textbook therapy approach. While Paige is used to being in the therapist's seat in both career and family, this forces her into the unfamiliar role of a patient during therapy sessions. This shift would compel her to look in the mirror and try a radically different approach.
The Alexander Family Learned A Big Lesson During A Therapy Session
In therapy, the Alexanders are tasked with addressing their individual traumas to salvage their remaining relationships. One of the family therapist’s eccentric suggestions was an exercise involving a family wrestling match. During this session, Paige faces tough questions about her refusal to share information about Finn's father.
While it's unclear whether this scene is reality or fantasy, the image of the family duking it out in the ring certainly makes for hilarious yet compelling television.
Paige Tries Dating Again Following Failed Relationships
Amid her life's chaos, Paige decides to step back into the dating field. However, her many attempts have left her with mixed results. The dating apps have turned out to be a fail, and an outing with her ex Mal (Marque Richardson), who is also her father's parole officer, doesn’t go quite as expected after he brings an unexpected guest – his new girlfriend.
The situation takes an awkward turn when Mal's new partner learns why the former couple split, partly due to Paige's self-sabotage.
UnPrisoned Is A Perfect Balance Of Comedy And Drama
As a dramedy, UnPrisoned takes a comedic approach to its heavy subjects. The show takes us on a ride with Paige's dating misadventures and navigating a friendship with her ex.
Other lighthearted moments include Edwin's attempts at CPR based on online videos and, of course, the antics of the Alexander family's unconventional new healing coach.
The second season of UnPrisoned is now available on Hulu.
UnPrisoned | Season 2 Trailer | Hulu
Feature image courtesy
The Common Denominator Is You. So, Why Do You Keep Choosing The Wrong Men?
Everywhere you go, there you are. It’s one of those popular sayings (kind of like “It is what it is”) that I find myself using a lot, especially when I’m in sessions with my clients. Why? Well, it’s kind of likean article that I once read that pretty much said our culture likes to play the toxic game of blaming other people because it’s an easy way to deflect from personal accountability (check out “What It Actually Means To 'Hold Yourself Accountable'”). So true, so true,
Well, another way of saying “everywhere you go, there you are” is using the math term “common denominator” — and today, what we’re going to attempt to tackle is, why is it that some of us, if we stepped back a moment to take a very real and honest assessment of our dating life, do we always end up with the same kind of guy? One who really isn’t the best for us; sometimes, not even close.
Before getting into some questions that I think can help you get to the answer, let me just say that this is definitely one of the kinds of pieces that may step on at least your pinky toe before it’s all said and done. At the same time, although this might not be the most comfortable of reads, keep in mind what the late poet, singer, and publisher Tuli Kupferberg once said, “When patterns are broken, new worlds emerge.”
And so, if when it comes to the caliber of men you’ve dated, what you’ve been doing is revealing that your pattern is not really working for your ultimate good, spend a bit of time trying to unpack just why that could be the case — why, at the end of the day, you truly are the common denominator in it all.
How Self-Aware Are You?
GiphyAbout five years ago, I penned an article for the site entitled “These Are The Things Self-Aware People Do Daily.” You know, of all of the things to be in this life, prioritizing self-awareness is king because self-aware people do things like hold themselves accountable, know their strengths and weaknesses, identify their triggers, have good boundaries, self-reflect, pay attention to their own “blind spots” — and they can — eh hem — take feedback and constructive criticism pretty well.
That last one? If you’re constantly in a hamster wheel or even a cul-de-sac when it comes to men, be honest with yourself: did your family, friends, hell, even your co-workers warn you about some of the guys you dated, and you found yourself either defending, deflecting or getting offended? Yeah, self-aware people don’t get down like that because they would rather have peace and be wrong than act like they are always right and remain in chaos.
So yeah, if you’re always in some foolishness or even in relationships that are simply a counterproductive waste of time, pondering how self-aware you actually are is a really good place to start. Self-reflect. Know your weaknesses. Listen to what others have to say about your tendencies. All of this can do you a whole lot of good.
How Humble Are You?
GiphySociety is a wild place, boy. The reason why I say that is because, while it’s out here acting like humility is a bad thing, Scripture says, “By humility and the fear of the Lord are riches and honor and life.” (Proverbs 22:4) And why is humility such a vital spiritual attribute? Because, when you’re humble — you’re grateful; you’re teachable; you’re open to seeing things outside of your own perspective; you’re compassionate and empathetic; you’re flexible; you’re forgiving, and you’re able to release your ego so that you can accept what you need over what you want.
What you need over what you want. Chile, if that doesn’t keep some people in cyclic stuff, I honestly don’t know what does. There’s a client that I have right now who only contacts me when she’s basically blown up her life because she constantly gets caught up in a man’s looks and bedroom performance. When I tell her that she needs to stop making that #1 and #2 of things to look for in a relationship, she “uh-huh's” me and then does what she wants to do anyway — only for it to end up wreaking all sorts of havoc…again.
It’s another message for another time about how some of us could stand to look within to see if wanting a fine man above all else is more about validating some deep-rooted insecurities that we have about our own looks (ouch). For now, I’ll just say that if your ego is out here telling you that looks and sexual performance should trump things like character and consistency, it is LYING to you. If you chose to heed the humble side of yourself, you would know that.
And this actually brings me to my next question.
How Stuck Are You in Your “Type”?
GiphyThe reason why I wrote “According To Experts, We All Have A ‘Type’” back in the day is because it’s true — pretty much all of us have a type which is pretty much a preference; there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that either. At the same time, I’m advising, from very up close and personal experience, that it’s a good idea to spend some time pondering “the origin story” of where your type came from.
Me? I’m always gonna be down for a very tall, hella chocolate, basketball (or soccer) build Black man. However, I’m a sexual abuse survivor and my molester looked a lot like that, so during the healing process of what he did to me, I had to factor in his influence. Plus, my first love also fits the physical mold and he definitely had quite an impact on my life. So…see what I mean? My type didn’t just come out of nowhere. Yes, sometimes your type may have some trauma or drama attached to it. And yes, that might be really uncomfortable to think about; still, that doesn’t mean it’s not true.
Now my late fiancé? He was right at about 6’ and, complexion-wise, he was lighter than I am. He treated me better than most of the men of my past, though — and even though he definitely pursued me for a while to get me to consider us beyond being friends, because I took a risk outside of my type, I learned what it was like to be loved in a healthy way. And what that did for me was it taught me to remain open outside of my standard type. I still like a tall-ass Godiva man, chile (and don’t let him have a beard and be in a tailored suit!). I don’t limit myself to that package, though. To do so would be severely limiting — potentially tragic even.
How Healed Are You?
Giphy“Healed” is a word that comes up A LOT in the social media space. When it comes to relationships, specifically, it’s important to ask yourself if you are healed from your past because, if you aren’t, you very well could be reliving it over and over…and over again, whether you realize it (or choose to accept it) or not.
Just so that we’re all on the same page, the word “heal” means things like healthy, sound, and whole. Synonyms for the word include improve, restore, mend, soothe, and rehabilitate. Signs that you have healed from past hurts of a relationship (or a series of relationships) include you don’t think of them with anger or bitterness; you can see the silver linings from the experience; you’ve forgiven them for things that they did wrong (or that simply hurt you — and no, that’s not always one and the same), and you don’t pick (or avoid) other people to be in your life solely based on what someone else did to you.
What I mean by that last one is an unhealed woman may say something like, “I don’t want to do [such and such] for a first date. That’s what my ex liked to do.” The new guy isn’t him, so why does he have to be beholden to your past? Or, “I don’t trust men who won’t let me go through their phone. That’s how I found out my ex was cheating.” You know, for all of the women who like to play a non-animated form ofInspector Gadget (the real ones know), they sure don’t want their phones inspected as much as they like to do all of the inspecting. SMDH. Anyway, I don’t go through phones. For what? I don’t pay the bill and I’m not anyone’s parent. And so, your next guy not preferring it either? That doesn’t automatically mean that he’s up to no good — he may just want his boundaries respected. An unhealed person may not accept that. A healed one tends to, though.
And how can being unhealed play a direct role in you choosing the same guys over and over again? It’s weird because, sometimes you will go back to what’s familiar to you — because the new guy is such a risk, you’d prefer to “stick to the devil you know” than take a chance on someone who rolls very differently. It’s a cryptic way of remaining the common denominator in your dating dynamics. Oh, but it happens all of the time, chile.
What Makes a Man WRONG for You? Specifically?
GiphyOkay, with a lot of the inner work out of the way, how do you even come to the conclusion that someone (or several people) is wrong for you? Because you know what? Once you’ve done some real healing (and serious maturing), you can oftentimes find yourself accepting the fact that just because someone may not be right for you, that doesn’t automatically or necessarily make them a bad person. No, not at all.
Although the word “wrong” can mean that something or someone isn’t morally right, wrong also means things like erroneous, not suitable or appropriate, not in accordance with certain requirements, or — and please catch it — out of order (which sometimes consists of the right thing happening at the wrong time). So, if it does seem like you keep choosing (because it is always a choice; that is also where accountability comes in) men who aren’t appropriate, aren’t in accordance with your needs or standards, or who aren’t what you need at the time — why is that? Is it rooted in fear? Impatience? Settling? What?
I have had enough clients go through this to know that it’s not good enough to be abstract about someone being “wrong” for you. You need to set aside one weekend, get some wine and a fresh journal, and really get into what wrong looks like. For instance, if you keep lowering your standards (which is the wrong thing to do, by definition), why is that? Because no matter how wrong the guy may ultimately turn out to be, what you have to be willing to accept is — again — you chose him. Why do you choose what’s wrong? Because, more times than not, some red (or at least orange) flags were waving long before the relationship came crashing down; oftentimes, they reveal themselves within the first couple of dates. You just chose to ignore them.
One more.
Do You Know a Good Man When You See One? You Sure?
GiphyAs we close all of this out, when you get a chance, please check out “Question: Is The Man In Your Life Good 'TO' You? Good 'FOR' You? Or...Both?” Learning the difference between “to” and “for” took my own relational processing to an entirely new and freeing level. And you know what? Back to the healing point, another way to know that you’ve healed is you don’t generalize men. Meaning, that if you’re out here declaring that there aren’t any good ones, that’s not true; you’re just jaded (I mean, it’s the truth), and that head and energy space is affecting your judgment and perspective.
That said, if you’re constantly selecting the wrong men, ask yourself if you even know what a good man looks like (cue India.Arie’s “Good Man”). Again, by definition, good means things like morally excellent, right, kind, friendly, benevolent, educated, financially sound (not rich, stable and responsible…goodness), genuine, reliable, dependable, responsible, attractive, warm, intimate — satisfactory to the purpose (yes, that’s a literal definition).
For a man to be good for you, you need to know what purpose he is to serve at this particular point in your life because if, for example, all men seem to do, in your eyes, is use you for sex, why are you prioritizing sex over an emotional connection if the latter is the purpose that you seek right now? A lot of women can stop being the common denominator when it comes to choosing the wrong man if they 1) become the good that they seek and 2) do not betray the purpose behind why they even desire a relationship in the first place.
____
I know. When things aren’t going your way when it comes to matters of the heart, it can be easy to always say it’s the man’s fault. If there’s a pattern, though, please be a bit more self-reflective than that.
Once you do, you’d be amazed by how much about you shifts — to where the wrong guys can’t even get close to you, in the way that they used to, anymore.
Because you cease to be the “common denominator” you once were.
And how wonderful is that?
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