“I never knew you were adopted” is what I heard in elementary school when my mother would come to pick me up. My face would turn bright red, and I would try to respond by saying no, but nothing would come out. If you don't know already, I am half Indian and half white. Surprising, right? To society, I look like every other white kid. My mom always tells me a story from when I was a young child and she and I were shopping. I saw a toy on the shelf, and I impulsively grabbed it. My mom took it out of my hands gently and placed it back on the shelf.

​

Like most other toddlers when they don't get what they want, I began to throw a tantrum. I was screaming, crying, and jumping up and down. I had an absolute meltdown. My mother picked me up, and I began screaming the words “No no no”. As I was screaming, my mother assessed the situation around her and realized the white eyes that were staring at her. People began leaving their shopping carts and walking towards the situation. The alarm bells in their minds began ringing once they saw a brown woman holding a crying white child. But the second I said the word “Mama,” the situation de-escalated. Looking back on this story, it's crazy how people would rather assume that she was kidnapping me than assume she was my mother. 

​

How other people view us is often how we view ourselves. Letting other people's views determine my identity has created a constant battle within my identity. When I was younger, I would struggle to tell people that I was Indian and I would shy away from conversations about race. I would avoid clubs, groups, or anything that would tie me to my Indian background. What's unique about my situation is that no one would know my ethnicity without me explicitly telling them, which made it very easy to conceal my Indian side. To be completely honest, I felt guilty claiming that I was Indian. I don't speak the language, I have a different skin tone, and I don't live what people might think is the stereotypical lifestyle. Who am I to claim to be Indian? I have no understanding of the struggles of being Indian in America since the world sees me as white. 

​

On the other hand, I felt guilty for not accepting my Indian side; it felt like I was losing half of myself, losing half of my family. It truly felt like a lose-lose situation, so I ignored it for as long as I could. But as I grew older, I just began to embrace it. My family on my mother's side has never treated me differently for it. They still see me as family regardless of the way I look. Specifically, I think being so close with my cousins on my mom’s side has helped me overcome my personal struggles. If anything, we laugh about our differences; they've even given me nicknames like white chocolate, uncooked Indian, and most recently, Incognito Indian. All of which I find hilarious. 

​

As outrageous as those nicknames are, they are very fitting. Take for example my most recent one, Incognito Indian. I can't even count the amount of times I've walked into a room with white peers, who I'm less comfortable with, who are unaware that I'm Indian and somewhere in the conversation they say something mildly racist towards Indians. I wish that these were the moments where I would stand up and say something, reveal my true identity, and tell them that what they were saying was hurtful and not okay. But in these moments, I turn into my younger self, guilty, self-conscious, and scared of my Indian heritage. I’d like to think that I’m changed now, that if a moment like this arose again I would stand up and say something. My mom used to always tell me that because of my appearance people listen to what I say more closely. My unique situation has brought me so much perspective. The perspective of the privilege of being white in America. I've witnessed firsthand how I'm treated differently than my family members who are brown. My mom reminds me of this when she talks about how she had to teach my brother lessons that she never had to teach me when we were children, simply because he takes on a darker complexion than me. Being Indian has also brought me gratitude. I get to enjoy the riches of Indian culture, have an abnormally large but loving family, and celebrate all the fun holidays. I take pride in being Indian and I wouldn't change it for the world.

​

Struggling with your identity is something that's not new whatsoever. I mean, realistically, I think everyone goes through a battle with a part of their identity to some extent. It’s a feeling that everyone's had, wanting to fit in and fearing judgment from others. Everyone wants to fit into the boxes that society has created for us, so I hope that you take from my story and my experience that you don't need to know who you are right away. There's no need to define yourself and be who other people want you to be. You are who you are. Enjoy it, cherish it, laugh about it, and most importantly take pride in it.