New Directions

Abstract

Biracial families are formed and develop in many of the same ways as other families. Two people develop a mutual affection, establish a partnership, and choose to be parents. They may marry or not, stay married or not, live together or not; they may adopt or have biological children. They experience the same developmental stages and life trajectories as any other individuals do. Yet, biracial families have the added challenge of crossing racial boundaries and blurring color lines in ways that many people are afraid to do. Although formal legal barriers have been rescinded, societal discord and racial inequities remain; thus, cross-race relationships are more complex than same-race relationships. The layers of complexity can be viewed as opportunities for growth and can lead us into a more comprehensive understanding of race, prejudice, and bias. These same layers of complexity can become a heavy burden, consuming energy and ruffling resolve to blaze an important path forward. One cannot comprehend the experience of biracial families without interrogating the layers of intersections that yield complex, contradictory, and complementary relationships. Intersectionality has been, and will always be, the only way to describe and understand the experiences of biracial families and individuals. Evaluating intersections (e.g., of race and class, colorism and bias, exposure, and ideology) is necessary to gain a more nuanced understanding of how and why individuals partner across race; how they create family and think about parenting biracial children; how they choose to identify themselves, their family, and their children; and how identity impacts (among other things) the health and well-being of biracial people.

When I was in graduate school, a colleague and I shared a taxi at a professional conference. The driver asked me if I was half-and-half. My colleague was offended on my behalf. She berated the driver and then looked at me and said, “You don’t have to answer that question.” I was surprised by her response. I had been asked this question countless times. It didn’t offend me. While she sat indignant, I simply answered, “Yes.” In truth, that is exactly how I had always seen myself: half Black and half White.

When I turned 40, I decided to explore my ancestral DNA with a popular testing company. I never thought about how it might impact my identity; in truth, I was mostly interested to see to which African countries my ancestry would be traced. The test results suggest that I am 65% European American (mostly French and German), 33% Sub-Saharan African (mostly West African), and 2% unassigned. I, apparently, am not half-and-half.

This technological fact surprised me and delighted me and puzzled me. I have never thought of or referred to myself as White. I knew my grandfather was German, but I never thought of myself as German; I never considered my European ancestors. It was exciting to examine the world map of my ancestral background. It gave me great pleasure (and some pain) to think of the distance my ancestors had traveled and to feel a greater connection to my personal family history. It also challenged how I thought about myself, my family, and who I am. I found myself considering and reconsidering how I racially identify and the circumstances and historical experiences that influence how I see myself and how I am seen by others. Ultimately, it lent support for an idea that I had struggled to articulate. I am not half-and-half. I cannot be divided into percentages. I am not half-Black and half-White. I am Black and White. I am biracial.

—Alethea Rollins