Comments from readers

More than any of the numerous stories I have read on the subjects of race and racism, this story resonated to the very core of my being. I am biracial, with light brown skin in the summer and a "high yalla" complexion in the winter. I remember practicing in the mirror how to make my lips look thinner. Though I could never pass for white, people of all races (sometimes even blacks) have assumed I am Indian, Hispanic, Hawaiian, Tongan, Samoan . . . the list goes on. Black girls have hated me because of my "good hair" and light complexion. My mother and her friends fussed over my hair and complexion. A white woman who assumed I was Hawaiian, upon learning that I am part black, advised me that "I didn't have to own it."

I remember every instance of being called "nigger." I grew up in a white, middle-class community where little white boys on their bicycles, circling around me, chanted "nigger, nigger, nigger." Little white girls ganged up on me after school, holding me down while slapping and spitting on me. When I was grown, "nigger" flew out of the mouth of a white man during an argument. At the time, I thought he loved me.

In 1974, when I was in the ninth grade, my American History class spent two days discussing slavery. On the final day, we had a debate. Not once was I called upon to speak when I raised my hand. When the discussion turned to the separation of families, an Italian boy who was sitting next to me (and who, by the way, was much darker than me) asked (in a derogatory way) what about the black children. The entire class, including the teacher, erupted in laughter and everyone looked at me. I just sat there - angry with the teacher for not protecting me, hating my classmates and wishing I could escape.

I could go on and on, fill up the pages, as I sit here crying. I'd forgotten how deep the pain was until I started remembering.

It doesn't seem that times have really changed all that much since the '70s - except that white people have learned how to cloak their racism, making it harder to prove discrimination, thereby making people of color look ridiculous and paranoid when they point it out. The white-supremacist movement is as strong as ever, with people like Benjamin Smith and Buford Furrow out protecting the white race. I was living just two blocks away from Liberty Park in Salt Lake City when Joseph Paul Franklin killed those two young black men because they were walking with two white women. I find I am becoming wary of white people, especially middle-age and middle-class whites. About two weeks ago, I noticed a white man watching me, an unfriendly look on his face. I froze in my tracks, thinking of how to escape if he went for his gun.

You know, I get tired of all this mess because I have lived it every day of my life. This letter might sound angry to you, and it is because it's true. My lifelong experiences with race and racism are emotional as well as intellectual.

I hope The Seattle Times will continue the conversation. I have friends who don't want to talk about it, as if the issues of race and racism will go away if we just ignore them. That attitude is foolish, impractical and, unfortunately, all too common.

- Brenda Woodford, Seattle

The cover picture of the two pretty girls caught my attention and I subsequently read the story. Looking at them, I had a multitude of thoughts - are they sisters, mother and daughter, lesbians, mentor and student?

I was not prepared for the title: "White Girl?"

The story created a sort of uncertainty in me I feel the author and her cousin encounter. Maybe my anxiety is different, and so is theirs, but I think we are on a compatible wavelength in our desire to understand this thing called race. However, mine is from a different perspective (because I am white).

I cannot understand the concept of color being a difference in humanness. I understand ethnicity in reference to the cultural background one comes from, but I don't understand color.

I understand the dilemma of Lonnae O'Neal Parker over her cousin's identification as white simply from the cultural background. But I don't understand her need to press the color issue. I fear that the racism in her tone, regardless of her acceptance of this or not, will influence her children to look upon the world with racism. The adage "Why can't we all just get along" isn't a knee-jerk line to be dealt with lightly. There are some of us white folks who truly despise the idea of slavery and racial prejudice. I am not of a background where slaves were held in possession by any of my forebears. I come from poor folk. My grandfather is Mexican. My grandmother is blond with blue eyes. My grandparents were turned out of places in the South when my mother was a child. To this day I still see people look quizzically at me when they see pictures of my grandfather.

I think we need to stop drawing lines and pointing out who belongs on what side and who doesn't. Parker's fear her cousin will not embrace her blackness should be replaced by a sense that this young woman has the world at her feet, she can embrace all around her. Kim McClaren represents the coming together of all things.

Pride in one's self is of utmost importance. Pride in being one of the human race is next. Our culture, be it the blood-born ties or the generation we ascribe to, is along those lines. But, ultimately, what matters is how we interact as humans. It has nothing to do with color.

Sometimes it is OK to just accept there are people in this world who are simply existing alongside their fellow human beings without prejudice. Maybe Parker should set aside some of the anger she professes not to have and let go of the rotten things in her life. Children are cruel, and adults are cruel, too, but that happens to all of us. Seek those who can return your beautiful smile and embrace you without prerequisite.

- Dannielle Bollinger-Smith, Covington

As a woman, I'm tired of the race issue. As a white woman, I am tired of being blamed for slavery because - and only because - I am white, when the fact of the matter is I am descended from Irish and German immigrants who didn't arrive on Ellis Island until well after the Civil War. They were so poor they were lucky to own the shirts on their backs, let alone slaves.

As a white mother of an interracial daughter, I shudder to think folks like you may try to force her to choose between her white heritage and her Japanese heritage, rather than allow her to embrace and celebrate both.

Katie Couric angered you for not expanding on the fact her ancestors owned slaves and for failing to offer any apologies. That was three generations ago, yet descendants of slaves continue to demand apologies from descendants of whites. I do not excuse slavery, Jim Crow laws or racism. The hate crimes that continue to plague this country are terrifying, and we need stronger penalties and zero tolerance to fight them.

However, as a race, you want us to continue apologizing and keep us in a perpetual state of guilt, shame and owing. Well, I have my own burden of transgressions, and I refuse to carry the guilt and shame of others, especially those who have gone before me.

If a family member of yours were to murder a family member of mine, I would not expect my descendants to hold it against your descendants, nor would I hold you and the rest of your innocent family accountable.

Inasmuch as you feel Cousin Kim hides her black with her white, you cover your white with your black. Why should one dominate? Why is one better? By asking - no, expecting - her to be black, you expect her to deny her white side. I fail to see why she must be one or the other. This "one-drop" rule is archaic and perpetuates separation.

You stated, "Every day, the world lets me know I'm black," an expression of the daily injustices you experience. I wonder if maybe that's what you see because that's what you're looking for; that's what you expect. You weren't waited on in a store? It's happened to me countless times, with and without my husband present; we both view it as poor service.

It's time to let go of the hate; stop expecting racism; stop trying to color-code, label and separate. And just a quick note to Cousin Kim: Most people your age are trying to figure out who they are - on the inside. Outside, know that you're a beautiful young woman with a rich family history. I truly hope you celebrate all of it and reject none of it.

- Peggy Sakagawa, Kirkland

Kim should have her choice in checking which box she prefers, but it is probably our culture that makes her want to check the white box. We all know that no one race is better or worse than the other. But it is sad that some people think so. I would hope the individual is always taken into consideration.

If I were Kim, I would be proud to have both colors in my genetic makeup. Each one has a culture with a diverse and rich background.

- April Weber, Seattle

Lonnae has pretty much summarized the whole black experience. The issue of "color" and "shade" has always been important within the black race. And why? I truly believe it a sort of "divide and conquer" that whites of the past used to keep us separated, against one another, thereby preventing us from revolting against them and the institution of slavery.

As a dark-complected black woman, I never wished I was light-skinned; however, my sisters and I (and other neighborhood girls) would put towels on our heads and pretend it was our hair. Brainwashed? You bet. Thoroughly, by the whites, to believe that their look was "the look." Fortunately for our family, complexion was never an issue. Although we are a brown-skinned, dark family, we know the genes of a white master lurk somewhere in our lineage, as evidenced by my "green" eyes and my even darker brother's "gray-blue" eyes.

Yes, my now deceased brother, big, tall, and very dark-skinned, had gray eyes that would change color with every outfit he wore. He and I were made to feel "special" because we were "blessed" to have those eyes (as told to us by outsiders).

Lonnae, I don't know your family dynamics, and this is not to in any way blame your uncle (Kim's father). But I truly believe a child's self-esteem can be determined by how they interact with their parents. Your father instilled in you that you were black. From your article, I couldn't find any evidence of Kim's father talking with her and telling her anything about herself, her heritage or culture. That saddens me because as a parent, my son and I are constantly talking about these things. I believe that if (your cousin's) father had sat and talked with her and basically told her she was black and talked about the positives of being black, she would be a different person today.

My son is light-skinned (not to the point of looking white), but as soon as he was old enough to understand, I began the "briefing" of blackness. My nieces and nephews who are half-white went through an identity crisis (as I like to call it) for a brief period (for about the first five years of their lives). Soon after, they quickly became aware of who they were, and now, my niece (who is as light as your cousin) will date nothing but "dark" black men. I think this is subconscious on her part, because she doesn't want her children to go through the uncertainty she went through as a child.

Lonnae, I truly hope one day your cousin will wake up and see the light. I will pray she someday comes to appreciate her black roots, to realize that it is OK to be black. With your help and guidance, and with the Lord, she will. Thank you once again for being a sister!

- Sandra Y. Hilton, Seattle

What is it that makes a person a racist? Is it ignorance, lack of a social conscience, or just plain evil? Could it be all of the above?

I am white. I grew up white in an all-white town at an all-white school in central Illinois. But my parents did their best to give me a love and respect for all people.

I had this lesson down really well and I never gave it much thought until I joined the military. Although I was in the Navy, I was sent to school at Sheppard Air Force Base deep in the heart of Texas. I flew into Dallas and was put on a civilian bus to Sheppard. I had already been in the Navy four years and I was decorated and traveling in uniform.

On that bus there was about a 50/50 split of whites and blacks. When I first got on that bus it was easy to converse with the white passengers and difficult with the few black passengers around me. But that changed.

There was an elderly black woman who had no seat. I noticed no one on the bus was going to give her a place to sit down. So I stood up and gave her mine. In that instant I could feel I had become the enemy of every white person on that bus and they all quit talking to me. At that same instant I became the friend of the black passengers on this bus.

What changed when I, as a white man, gave my seat to an elderly black woman? What was it that changed in the white passengers? What changed in the minds of the black passengers?

That bus ride deep in the heart of Texas back in 1988 is still with me. Such a small gesture. Ever since that ride, I have tried to understand the "what" and "why" of the obstacles black Americans are up against in our country. It has been both an enriching and saddening journey for me. Where it will end, I don't know. I have learned the truth that because I am white, I have enjoyed many advantages over my black equal.

I am starting to understand why my black equal would probably switch places with me if given the option. Somewhere my counterpart has a family he is trying to support. His love, his hopes and his fears for his family are the same as mine, if not more. Why, because I am white, should my family have more opportunities at a better life than my black counterpart? Can anyone answer this one for me?

What of the elderly black woman on the bus?

As she got off, she turned to me and said, "God bless you, young man."

I looked at her, smiled real big and said, "He just did."

- Jonathan D. Standridge, Tukwila

I am an African-American woman reared in South Carolina and who now lives in Atlanta. Trust me . . . not a lot has changed.

Sometimes I don't know what's worse, rejection by someone who looks nothing like you or rejection by someone who looks like your reflection. We (the African-American community) will never combat racism until we deal with our own internal struggles (i.e., good hair, straight nose, shades of black).

Personally, I am an American first, woman second and of African descent third. That's how I see myself and the people I meet. Unfortunately, I am reminded every day that I am a black woman who is an American by default. I am hoping that one day, people will get it right.

- T.B. James, Atlanta

Please thank Lonnae O'Neal Parker for me. Her story "White Girl" is a most insightful narrative about the shades of color as seen through her self-proclaimed black-person eyes. It brought more understanding into my white experience and did so in a sympathetic way. When I read it with my 13-year-old son, I hope it will also bring some thoughtful insights that he can bring to his future experiences.

- Al Lamp, Seattle

Reading Lonnae Parker's story "White Girl?" and your introductory remark that the story prompted much conversation in your office reminded me that media attention, and the interest of the masses, is directed not toward ameliorating social problems but toward exacerbating them.

There is only one way to eliminate racial discrimination and hatred, and that way involves recognizing and embracing the fact that all human beings are so much alike, and have so much in common, that mere skin coloration cannot and does not make us different from one another. We must rid ourselves of the "them and us" approach to our daily lives. Unfortunately, no realistic attempt at this is being made.

Parker's story is just one more in a long line of stories, long and short, that use race to divide good human beings from bad human beings, and that make no attempt to provide insight as to how to extirpate from our society the mental conditioning that leads to the social ills of racial discrimination and hatred.

I doubt seriously your office conversation included the observation that the story did not do one thing to make any reader consider himself and a person of different skin tone both part of "us," but instead focused on doing just the opposite.

- Tom Difloe, Camano Island

I have long wondered why we can't all just be people, and not have to choose categories at all! Most blacks in America today appear to be of mixed origin, and to even ask for a statement of choice is, I believe, insulting. It is also against all principles taught in the Christian and many other faiths.

People are equally deserving of respect and civility. I thought we were past requiring those statements except on census. Why can't we drop it on census questionnaires?

My biggest question: How would anyone dare criticize a category or lifestyle someone chooses? Blacks criticize people who "pass," and they are just people who are existing in the manner that seems right to them. Blacks also criticize people who appear to be not fully black and who categorize themselves as black - a total accident of birth, so what fairness is that?

And the whole idea of criticizing any of them for not choosing to identify with black culture today is totally unfair and divisive. How can those who teach acceptance and equality also push for a declaration of being "black"? We have a long way to go, and I think your thoughtful article is a great step.

- Martha Sampson, Seattle

I wasn't sure how I felt after reading the article last night, but I awoke this morning with some definite opinions. What the writer carries is baggage. What Cousin Kim does not carry is baggage. Down through history, white people have convinced the writer's forefathers, who have in turn convinced their children, that being black is a terrible detriment. No one can deny the history of oppression and cruelty blacks have suffered at the hands of many whites. But here she is today with a relatively unburdened cousin and a daughter, and it is her mission to make them both feel the pain.

She wants Kim to feel pride as well, but apparently the two must go hand in hand. Would it surprise the author to know that as a white girl, and now a white woman, I have never felt that feeling of superiority that lets me know I am just fine wherever I am, in whatever situation, merely because I am white?

I have insecurities. I have been snubbed, rejected, etc. The difference is I was never taught these inequities in treatment were because there was anything wrong with me. Some people are mean, unjust or, simply, they make mistakes, and that's their problem. I have never taken ownership of the degradation their actions have implied.

A white boy once spit his chewed-up popcorn all over my face. Why? He was a weird, naughty boy. True, I have never been called "nigger," but I certainly have been called many other degrading names based on my most obvious features.

I encourage the author to break the chain. Have pride in your features, your color, your inherent artistic bent, your culture, your family accomplishments and heritage. Know that you have come a long long way from your original roots. Be aware that there are inequities in this world, and sometimes people do pass us over at the shopping counter. But don't burden your cousin and your child with an inherent sense of shame and victimization.

Let them find out for themselves that, despite their color, appearance and stature in life, they are people. Let them see how far they can go in this world without inheriting the baggage you carry.

- Lynne Robinson, Bellevue

This article certainly struck a cord with me and generated lots of discussion between my husband and me. We are both African American, but I am very light-skinned (with blue eyes, "nappy" hair and a very European name), and he (as well as our children) are more a "medium shade" of brown.

I could relate to so many things. But in many ways and for many years, I didn't feel as if I fit into either camp - black or white. To whites, I was black, got called the "N-word" several times and was spat on more than once. I was one of only four blacks at my high school. Naive me thought the reason I was never asked out on dates in high school and was turned down on numerous "Tolo" date requests was because I was ugly. And, unfortunately, to reinforce this opinion, then and now the media bombards us with images of what is beautiful: straight hair, light skin, buxom, thin nose, etc. Images that are unrealistic for most, particularly for those from other cultures.

On the other hand, I am the "white sheep" of the family. Much lighter than my immediate and extended family members. I, like the author, come from an educated, white-collar family. My grandfather (born in Alabama just after the end of the Civil War), aunts and uncles, and many of my cousins all graduated from college. But to fellow blacks (even some in my own family), I "talked white" and was "high yellow" - a term I understand. However, it still makes me cringe because it says more about how I am different vs. how I am, and my experiences are similar!

I was asked why I didn't look like the rest of my family (even by family members). As a child, I thought perhaps I was adopted or was switched at the hospital with another baby.

Although these experiences and others created a strong sense of low self-esteem that took over a decade to erase, they also set me out on a mission to better understand how I could look the way I do. I have since documented my genealogy on both sides. I learned I had two great-great-grandparents (one on each side) who were white. Furthermore, my physical traits show that I am the "perfect conglomerate" of my wonderful African ancestors. Now when I'm asked about how I got those strange eyes or why I'm so light, I respond that "I'm a walking recessive gene pool." A quick answer to a complicated question.

I am extremely proud of my African-American heritage, and like it or not I understand there are a few unasked-for privileges that come with having skin tones on the lighter end of the spectrum for my race. But these privileges also come with expectations, while still maintaining the shackles of being perceived as "not as good as."

I think one of the greatest characteristics of my race is the rich spectrum of color. We are beautiful and should be extremely proud of the accomplishments we've made considering the astounding obstacles we've had to overcome.

- Name withheld

An interesting article that allows modern-day America to read what black America has known and understood for years. I have been around the world for about 68 years and have experienced much of what she speaks.

It is no longer "dirty linen," as it was once known, because you can look into almost every "American" family whose ancestors came to this country from Europe during the 1700s, 1800s and in some cases even the 1900s, who lived in the Eastern and Southern states, and find that a degree of miscegenation took place. And further, that those who participated have relatives who have "one-dropism."

It is a fact of life that many don't wish to admit, but it is as true as the sun rising daily in the east and setting in the west.

- Retired Army Col. James A. Manning, Seattle

Until each of us can talk freely and openly about our perspectives and perceptions regarding race in this country, and most especially those of us who deny there is a problem, we cannot begin to overcome the injustices and inequities that racial bias incurs.

I recently met a man who, by most black/white standards in the United States, would be labeled as "black" or "African American." Yet this man spoke exuberantly and very proudly of his multicultural background, which included no fewer than eight nationalities, from European to Asian to African to Pacific Islander. His enthusiasm was infectious, and I found myself, a European mutt, envious of the vast reach of the human clan to which this man could lay claim in his own background.

Instead of having to choose "one" or "other" or even "multiracial" in those little check boxes on whatever forms, what if we were able to check all groups, nationalities, ethnicities to which we belong? The greater the number, the greater our status. Talk about a paradigm shift . . .

- Deborah Todd, Shoreline

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