I was 6 years old when I realized that my parents and I don’t “match.” Ever since I was younger, I saw the evidence of my parents’ different hair and skin color. But that was an insignificant, even trivial, detail about my parents. They were my parents and it didn’t matter what color skin they were or what color hair they had. My dad had white alabaster skin with brown hair and green eyes. My mom had darker hair and her skin was a shade or two darker from my dad’s.
When society looked at us, as a familial unit, sometimes they didn’t see us as being of one blood and related by the awesome power of genetics. Society may have assumed that my mom was my mom because of our similar complexion and darker hair color. But sometimes, society didn’t see that my dad was really my dad. All…
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