Being biracial had never been something I thought about growing up until I moved to the United States. This is not to say I was unaware of it, but I never saw the importance of emphasizing it. To me, my mom wasn’t Dominican and my father wasn’t French. They were mami and papi. It never crossed my mind while I played with cousins and friends that I was different from them or that they were different from me. They were my cousins and friends. Although this is something that most kids don’t think about in general, I think it’s an American thing. Race is talked about differently all over the world, but in the United States, it tends to be a bigger topic of conversation.

I never personally felt like I had to “choose a side,” but it did oftentimes feel like I should feel that way. This is not to say that others don’t tend to assume my race or ethnicity, I’ve just always known no one can invalidate my blackness or my whiteness. I’m both. They are not mutually exclusive. I very much so grew up in a Dominican household but that doesn’t make me any less French. Do I wish I was more immersed in that culture? Absolutely yes. But sadly that was out of my control. Kids know what their parents teach them and I cannot live my life regretting something I didn’t have a choice in.