Brown skin, you know I love your brown skin
Apparently your skin has been kissed by the sun...
Everytime I see your lips, I think of honey-coated chocolate.
- India.Arie
My 4 year old is a tad too perceptive at times. One evening, almost a year ago, she blurted a non sequitur of sorts. "Mama, I don't want to be brown."
Oh no. Is she referring to her skin?
"What do you mean by that?"
"I don't want brown skin no more."
Oh God. What do I say?
"I want to be white like you and Henry."
"But your skin is beautiful just the way it is. You are beautiful."

Both of my children are mixed. Hapa. Mulatto. Multiracial. Hybrid. Mixblood. Mezclado. Whatever the term, derogatory or not, they're considered "other" by most, especially the U.S. Census. Before having children, my husband and I always anticipated conversations like this. Only who would have imagined that I would have them with a precocious 4 year old? I mean, how do you make a child feel comfortable in her own skin?
My daughter is blessed with the warm, brown sugar skin of my husband, and oodles of curls spring from her head in caramel-colored rings, reminding me of her African roots. Her almond-shaped, hazel eyes reveal Asia, and the blood that flows through her body runs from Ireland, England, France. To add to the recipe that is her, a tiny pinprick of her blood is Native American.
I anticipate, in the very near future, my daughter will have to face that inevitable, annoying question that I have had to answer millions of times before. The question, "What are you?"
My hopes are that she can proudly answer, without hesitation, "I am American."
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