I haven't been on Xanga in such a long time.. I just sort of forgot about/decided not to update anymore. I had a lot of stuff in my life, not like that's an excuse- I'm constantly busy, no matter where I am. The only reason I started updating again was because I started reading through DearRicky's "racial fights" (I don't know what to classify them as, but they were interesting to read through), which led me to think about race, which led me to once again question my own race. And then I was featured, and I regularly go on to check the comments I get on the post. So I thought, why not continue? And here I am, back again.

But the even bigger news is that I'm officially in the city now! New York City, that is.

Let me just update you guys a bit about my life here.

I wake up in the morning on school days at 6am. My four cousins, my aunt, and my uncle are usually asleep, although the babysitter is usually at the house by then. We exchange awkward, sleepy hellos, I eat cereal, get dressed and ready, and procrastinate for an hour (I know you're all sighing right now- "teeeeenagers".). Then I take the train to The School, which will remain nameless for my own "safety, where I endure hours of mental anguish at the hands of my torturers teachers.

But living in the city is so much different than living in suburbia, where I came from. I can walk outside and get anything I need just by walking a few blocks. School supplies? There's a Staples six blocks south. Coffee? There are about 70 Starbucks per square inch. Live animals? That one's a little tricky, but that's what they invented the internet for!

It's such a culture shock. I am so grateful to get the opportunity to go to high school in New York City, but at the same time I feel a bit overwhelmed. I'm far away from the friends and family I love dearly, I'm living in an impersonal and bustling city, and The School is so much more different than my old school back home- smaller, full of friendlier people, and more trusting of its students.

My question today is- have you ever been "culture-shocked"?

Before I launch into my post, let me give you a little background info on, well, my background.

In the 1800's, several Scottish and Irish families sailed from Europe to Australia, in search of a new life. They marry each other, mix up genes, blah blah blah. And in the late 20s, a baby is born to the O'Brien family, the youngest of 9. This baby was my grandfather.

Let's back up even more. The Spanish conquer Cuba, settlers move in, settlers bring African slaves. The slaves have children, long after they're free. This leads up to the birth of a Afro-Cuban baby girl, born in circumstances that she refuses to speak of in the late 20s as well. This baby was my grandmother.

Now press fast forward. The fifties are roaring, my grandparents meet in a college in Maryland. They fall in love, they marry (not in Maryland however; at the time, interracial marriage was illegal.) They have children. One child will grow up to become my mother.

My father's background is much shorter; his descendants were mostly Jamaican, with some Peruvian genes mixed in. He moved to Canada when he was three, and became what can only be described as a "die-hard Canadian". He and my mum meet, and fall "in love" (I put this in quotes because they divorced fourteen years later). They get married, and settle in the US.

Then comes me.

I wasn't born into a world of racial clarity. I'm light skinned, and (somehow) blonde. My features aren't of any definable race; I have full lips, but a thinner nose, and large eyes. When I was little, I used to look at the color of my skin and tell anyone who asked that I was white. I thought everyone who had the same skin color as someone else had to be related to them; I remember telling my kindergarten class that Martin Luther King was my grandpa, because he was black like my dad.

Now, as a teenager, I feel myself being pulled in several different directions, by all these different cultures. My mother has always tried to instill in me and my brothers that we are "black", but I've found that several people refuse to believe that I am.

I used to go to school with a mostly black class, some from poorer neighborhoods. I always felt like my black classmates resented me in some way; maybe it was because I tried in school and took Honors classes, or that I lived in a wealthy, predominately white neighborhood, or that I dressed and spoke a certain way.

(NOTE: I'm not saying that ALL black people treated me in this way. This is just the treatment I got from my classmates at this school. I am not saying that all black people are poor, or stupid, or do badly in school.)

They kept their distances from me, and many of them called me "that white girl". I never felt accepted by these people; it was actually the caucasian students who accepted me without question. They didn't make a big deal of my race, and they didn't mind that my dad had dark skin while my mum was as pale as a vampire.

Besides this, my Cuban heritage has always been in the forefront of my life too. At my grandmother's urging, I learned Spanish, and she enjoys talking to me in "her language". She always reminds me that she is CUBAN and my mother is CUBAN and that makes me, by default, a Cubana.

My father is just as bad. He constantly tells me that I am Canadian, that Canada is my home too. (I actually may have lived in Canada, if it had not been for my mum missing her family too much.) He is bitter about living in the US, always putting down the country I have come to call home, and talking about the "good old days" in Toronto.

I find it so hard to call myself "multiracial". I know that this is what I really am; just a big melting pot of cultures and colors. But for some reason, the word gets stuck on my tongue.

Maybe it's because my mother hates the word. "You're black" she always stresses. "Do not say mixed, or multiracial. You. Are. Black." But I've never understood how to be "black" without turning my back on the rest of who I am. I've never understood why many other members of my "race" have always treated me like my partially Caucasian, partially Hispanic heritage makes me subpar to them.

My hope is that one day, I will be able to say "Now look. This is who I am."
But I've still got a while to go.

What is your story, and how do you define yourself?

Sorry for not putting it in my last post.. but congrats to ShadesOfAnnie for making it to 10lbs+ ! Keep up the good work, your progress is inspiring :)

Now, here's the question I wanted to ask.

I named my cat Neil because the only masculine thing I could think of relating to the diamond on his forehead was Neil Diamond. My brother decided to name Neil's twin "Marcus" simply because he liked the name (but my dad tells everyone that we named him after Marcus Garvey because he's black- forgive my dad, he's black too). My dog's named Midnight.. but he's a orangish Smooth-Coat Collie.

My friend and I were talking about this the other day, and she had some really interesting stories to tell about why her pets are named what they are. So my question is..

Why is your pet named what it is?