Hail to the Chief

For those who were dragged here across the rough sea, chained to the bottom of rotting ships.

For the mothers and the fathers whose humanity was worked away in the boiling Southern sun.

For the ones called nigger, whose lips were too dirty for the water fountain, and who hung on the end of ropes.

For Martin and Rosa, and the countless others, who said enough! Who asked "Do I not bleed red just like you"?

For Richard and Mildred Loving, who crossed the line and the law, for whom love was not even a question of color.

For the skinny kid with the funny name, a blended heritage that brings forth the Dream.

For my country 'tis of thee, Hail to the wisest and most thoughtful of Commanders-in-Chief.

Biracial Adoptees

Connor Cruise and I have something in common. The 13-year old son of Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman, is a biracial adoptee. It's refreshing to see someone in the public eye (he has a moment in the new Will Smith film "Seven Pounds") who became family through the same circumstance as myself. It is a beautiful reminder that family is not formed only through bloodlines or racial homogeneity, but through the ultimate power of love.

Lessons on a Country Road

The biracial prism from which I view the world came starkly into focus during a holiday shopping trip with friends. On the drive to the mall, we had to pass through an area well-known as being racially unfriendly. As my friends continously stated how uncomfortable they were in this neck of the woods, I inwardly scoffed, thinking their fears were exaggerated, but as I listened to their stories of past unpleasant experiences with local residents, I realized I was mostly removed from this type of trouble. I can't relate to having a gun pulled on me during a swimming outing, having people move aside when I walk up to pay for a purchase or being concerned about who I can safely ask for directions. My tales have consisted of those who've wondered why I "talked white", taunted me on the playground with the wounding "oreo" epithet, commented on my"exotic" looks, and curiously perused my facial features as if I were from another planet. As frustrating as these encounters have been, they could in no way compare to the stings that my friends, and some of my relatives, have had to deal with. I've been naively immune to such things, and going on this shopping trip has been yet another learning experince in this ongoing school of life.