In numerous ways, we as members of Unfiltered feel we most identify with the group of minorities we refer to as “in betweeners.” As people of color growing up in predominantly white communities, we were coined “too white” by people of color living in ethnic settings and “too ethnic” by white people. We find ourselves living in predominantly white communities because our parents made the difficult choice of uprooting from culturally familiar settings to obtain educational and quality-of-life opportunities for us. We recognize, appreciate, and thank our parents for their sacrifice because they too live “in between” lives. But while we have reaped many benefits as residents of suburban communities, it would be disingenuous if we, now young adults, didn’t acknowledge that it often comes at the cost of losing connections to our cultural background through the process of assimilation. For sure, life involves trade-offs, regardless of one’s racial background. The trade-off for gaining economic opportunities is the sometime rejection that “in betweeners” feel, particularly when growing up during adolescent years. The feeling can negatively affect one’s mental health and lead one to search for true identity.
Feeling out of sync with one’s culture is not limited to people of color who grow up in predominantly white settings. Former First Lady Michelle Obama writes about this similar sentiment in her memoir Becoming, where as a young black girl operating in a diverse setting, her connection to her race was questioned because of the influence her educational advantage had on her mannerisms and vernacular. She recalled an experience when she was10 years old where a distant relative questioned her identity by asking, “How come you talk like a white girl?” She noted that speaking a certain way could be “…perceived as a betrayal, as being uppity, as somehow denying our culture.” She would go on in her role as First Lady to work with countless young people to help them find their voices in a world that is very judgmental.
In our openness with each other, the Unfiltered members have come to realize this common feeling we each experienced, to varying degrees, and wished we had a support system that celebrated our identities and helped us to develop a strong sense of self. At college, we have met others who grew up in similar circumstances, revealing that “in betweeners” are spread throughout the country. This revelation that there are so many of us is promising because with time, there will be enough “in between” people to populate communities of color that are rich with full access to top-quality educational and quality-of-life opportunities.
Here, we share some of our “in between” experiences for the purpose of empowering the youth of color with the knowledge that you’re not alone and others have come through similar circumstances stronger for it. We want to be that resource for you that we wished was available when we were growing up. We identify with you. You are not alone.
Our Stories:
Victoria
I was born in Berkeley Heights into a small family of two parents and a much older sister. My extended family lived in other states, where I saw them maybe twice a year. My life was structured around school, church, playing the piano and saxophone, and athletics, all of which involved almost fully white settings. Before turning ten years old, the sports I participated in were swimming and karate.
When I turned ten, I was introduced to track. In my middle school years, I was a member of a predominantly black track club, which is located about 30 minutes away from my home. I was fully welcomed on the track team but honestly, I felt awkward. Everyone else knew each other and went to the same sets of schools in the surrounding neighborhoods. I was unfamiliar with certain cultural things like the latest hip hop dance moves and embarrassed to talk about the things I spent a lot of time on like playing classical music on the piano and saxophone. I felt like an outsider. There was one white girl on the team who ran distance and I chose to train with her because I didn’t yet quite have the foot speed to race sprint events like my other black teammates. As I advanced in distance events, I found myself isolated as there are relatively few black athletes running distance in this segregated sport. I’ve been told by white competitors while getting ready to run the mile that I was in the wrong place because the line for the 200 was somewhere else. With track playing a dominant part of my life, my racial identity was a struggle. I didn’t feel “black enough” for the black kids but felt “too black” to fit in perfectly with the white kids, and being a black runner in predominantly white distance events exacerbated that sentiment.
I looked forward to going to college to bond with black athletes. When I first arrived on campus, I saw that the racial divide on my college track team is stark. My black teammates were mostly sprinters while my white teammates were mostly distance runners, and the two groups do not mix particularly now during the pandemic. I feel comfortable with my white teammates with whom I train, but desire to build a strong connection with my black teammates around culture and personal attributes. Fortunately, my non-athlete roommate happens to come from a similar background as me. She is also a black person who grew up in a predominantly white town, and has helped me to appreciate the commonness of the plight of “in between” young people nationwide. Conversations with her as well as with my fellow Unfiltered members have spurred me to redirect my internal battle with cultural identification. I’m learning to pivot in a socially responsible way between the two groups in which I have the privilege of being included, offering up the best of my identity to both groups and in some cases bridging the divide. In the process, I’ve come to appreciate the circumstances that put me in a unique position to support youth of all backgrounds who struggle with self-identity.
Kenedi
Though I did not always see it this way when I was younger, I have been so incredibly blessed to have lived in some of the most diverse states and countries in the world. I was born in Houston, TX; though, I have also had the opportunity to live in the UK, Georgia, New Jersey, and Maryland for a short while. Granted, to most, it seems like a dream to have been exposed to these diverse ways of living and cultures; for me, it was incredibly hard to soak in such neat experiences when I consistently stuck out as the in-betweener. I definitely had my fair share of in-between experiences when living in Texas, the UK, and Georgia: being consistently asked by black classmates when I moved back to the states from the UK “how I had a British accent if I was black”, and when I moved to Georgia and lost my accent, being repeatedly asked “why I spoke white” or “how I spoke white” -- like it was some newly discovered talent or something. My black classmates would ask me to say certain words and phrases to further prove their point that I wasn’t truly black.
I even remember being called an Oreo in the fifth grade and thinking it was a compliment, until I asked my father what it meant when I got home from school.
Moving to Berkeley Heights, NJ, a town with a 1.7% black population, in a strange way, felt welcoming. After years of being told that I spoke white, acted white, and felt like a stranger to my black brothers and sisters, I finally felt at home. I finally felt like I could be myself. Though, I later realized that years of being told that “I was basically white” by my white peers and feeling ostracized by my black brothers and sisters, inherently ended in defining my blackness, what it meant to be black, and became diminishing to my self-esteem. Interestingly enough, as I have grown older, these in-between experiences have only amplified and shown its realness through tough and adult situations as a black woman -- it has only been until recently that I’ve been able to validate this in-between life as something non-fictitious. Sad to admit, but I still get anxious when in a room full of people who look like me. I suddenly become hypersensitive to certain comments and/or observations that are made about me, I try to act a certain way (that does not come natural to me), I tend to stay quiet -- I mean, if I keep to myself, it’s hard for people to see through me. Right?
But then my silence makes me an easy target. I am now labeled as “bougie” or “stuck-up” -- the black woman who “only has white friends” or the black woman who “doesn’t date black guys”. In turn, I crawl back to my safe space -- what I am used to.
But when I’m in a space where I once felt a part of and am burdened with countless microaggressions, the struggles of accepting my natural hair, constantly taking on the role to be an activist, and feeling alone during racial unrest...Who do I turn to? This is the inbetween that is rarely discussed.
Everyday I am finding new ways to embrace this in betweenness, and have embraced it as who I am and as a part of my story. I think it helps to know that others (like my Unfiltered brothers and sisters) have similar struggles/experiences, but never knew it was a legitimate struggle worth sharing. If you share similar struggles/experiences, just know that you are definitely not alone and that your in betweenness is just one element of your story that contributes to how YOU define your identity.
Mikayla
Growing up in a town with a C+ diversity rating, it was easy for me to be picked out from the crowd, simply due to my darker complexion and stereotypical hispanic last name. Although both of my parents are fluent Spanish speakers and immigrants to the U.S., they insisted that I speak predominantly English at home so that I wouldn’t fall behind in school. As I got older, my Spanish got significantly worse and it became difficult to speak to my Spanish-speaking family members after being raised in an English speaking household. In middle and high school, I began to grow frustrated when my mom spoke to me in Spanish at home and asked me to try to speak Spanish with my grandparents who lived outside the country. I straightened my hair almost every day to hide my curls and blend in with my classmates. Even when I celebrated my Quinceañera my freshman year of high school I made sure that the DJ played mostly songs in English so that my friends would feel comfortable and have a good time.
It wasn’t until I went to college that I noticed how much I had suppressed my culture my entire life. This revelation made me feel embarrassed and ashamed. I found myself hesitating to join Latin American culture clubs in fear that I acted too white for them to think I was actually Dominican and Colombian. I was afraid that the hispanic students at college would reject me for my inability to speak Spanish and I found myself scurrying past their tables at the student involvement fair in fear that I wouldn’t be accepted.
Similarly, I caught myself consciously stepping into college parties and club meetings feeling insecure about whether the white students would think my skin was too dark and my culture too “exotic” for their liking. I was finally learning to love my curls and curves but wondered if I needed to revert to my middle school ways in order to fit in with both the white and hispanic students in college who didn’t yet know me for me.
To this day I still struggle with my identity. I’m stuck in this “in between” of feeling like a failure to my hispanic family members who think I am muting my culture in addition to being an outsider amongst my white friends and classmates. How can I consider myself Latina if I can’t even hold myself to speaking the Spanish language fluently? How can I make myself seem white enough for students at my predominantly white college to understand I’m just like them? These thoughts were tucked away throughout my childhood but I am now finally realizing how they were and still are affecting me on a daily basis.
After speaking with members of BH Unfiltered, I’m realizing I’m not alone in possessing these feelings and am consciously working on being my unapologetic self. Similarly in college, I had the pleasure of becoming close friends and roommates with a fellow Latina who similarly grew up in a predominantly white town and was also working to embrace her culture and heritage in college. She encouraged me to join one of the biggest Latin American culture groups on campus and I quickly found my home away from home with people who accepted me for me.
I hope that sharing my experience of feeling this inbetweenness can encourage you all as readers to join me in actively working to embrace our diverse backgrounds that make us who we are.
Conclusion
The “in between” experiences that people of color who live in predominantly white communities have is real. We are amazed by the youth of color in our suburban towns for their perceptiveness, awareness, and willingness to speak out on the mental health impact of living “in between”. The Unfiltered members want to lend our support to uplift them and Berkeley Heights/Mountainside residents as a whole. We have benefited greatly from the education provided to us as part of the school systems in which we grew up and want to pay it forward by empowering children of all backgrounds to strengthen their self-identity. From the perspective of people who have been there, we are offering to mentor those who struggle with the same identity crisis as us by emboldening them to carve out their unique paths to build a strong self-identity.