No one can tell my son he isn’t Black or Asian enough unless he lets them

Photo: wera Rodsawang/Getty Images

After my grandmother heard me refer to my children as “mixed,” she asked, “Were you making a cake?”

She gazed at me with a grin on her face, her head cocked to the side, one hand on her hip. I knew that look. I had seen it all my life…

The Single Black Guy

Xennial with Millennial problems. Writing about all my intersecting identities. Dad. Black. Single. Empath.

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