On Being Multiracial

  A question that has always been asked of me since the dawn of my time has been "What are you?" This seemingly innocuous question evokes a wide range of emotions for me that has evolved over the years....more

50 Shades of Brown: Raising Mixed Kids in a Colourist World

Butterscotch, chocolate, vanilla, hot fudge and caramel. No, not the local ice cream shop menu, these are the five sweet sensations my four year old uses to describe her family's skin tones. It's cute because she's very matter of fact about it. Just as ice cream comes in different flavours, so do we come in shades of brown....more

I hated my nose

I hated my nose. It was small, flat, wide and people would often tell me it was "cute". I hated it when people said that, or would draw attention to it. It is a Filipino nose, inherited from my Dad's side of the family - that distinctive nose that so many have and makes us easily recognizable when you know what to look for.  ...more

We Need a Village to Raise Mixed Race Children

 My husband and I can’t raise our biracial kids alone.We need your help. As a society we need to work together to raise confident, happy kids. It’s cliche but our children are the future of this planet....more
This is such an important post.  I am a black woman with a black husband raising black kids ...more

So...What Am I, Anyway?

I remember the first time I was confused about my race. I was 10 years old and in the fourth grade. The source of my bewilderment was the "Race/Ethnicity" question on a standardized test, back in the day before they allowed you to choose more than one and before they included a "multiracial or biracial" box. I scanned the options before me—“Black/African American,” “White/Caucasian,” “Hispanic,” and “Asian/Pacific Islander”—“none of these seem like me,” I thought to myself. Puzzled, I turned to my teacher and asked her which bubble I should fill in. She said, “Asian.”...more
Growing up, I always checked "Black" & (to my recollection) it was never an issue because my ...more

We Are People, Not Paychecks

As someone who has battled severe clinical depression for a number of years, I have visited many mental health professionals.  Lately it dawned on me that only one of those professionals treated me with genuine respect and compassion.  I believe that most qualified therapists are truly caring individuals who want the best for their clients.  However, there are just as many that are unethical and insensitive in their approach.  In some cases, it is clear that they are only in it for the financial gain, not because there is a true desire to help others. ...more

Mixed Race vs Mixed Messages

             Dear HerMelnessAs someone who ‘opinionates’ on every subject under the sun, you do not really talk about race as definitively. Why is that? Is it because you are a race blended family and so that any ‘message’ is necessarily fraught with difficulty for you and confusing for your children?”  Curious of Chester. ...more

A Good Day to be Black and Sexy?

 This is my ass. For the last ten or so years every form of mass media has told me that this is not only the best way of measuring my worth as a Black woman, its also innately low class while being the only reason any man would put up with me. My Black ass, a gift and a curse....more

As the oldest daughter of a women whose ass could be compared to a Hottenton, and the recipient ...more

Please help Kimora Klein

When I saw on twitter that Kimora was in a car accident and wouldn't be going to AVN I had no idea how serious her injuries were.  She was tweeting so that means she's okay. I was tragically mistaken. A website has been started to help fans and loved ones send donations for towards her medical care as well gifts to lift her spirits. ...more

I Dream a Half Dream

Some people never cease to amaze you.. I bumped into a girl I went to school with, in the pet shop this morning. I was keen to get the polite greetings over with, and just get on with buying cat litter. She, however, wanted to have a full-on recount of the past God-know-how-many years in which we hadn’t seen each other. ...more
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