As I was growing up, my mother spent an almost inordinate amount of time worried about my deportment. She was always concerned about my appearance, how I spoke, and generally, how I carried myself. When I would protest, she always gave the same reason. She would say, “You are judged not so much by who or what you are, but who or what people perceive you to be.”
Now that I’ve gotten older, I know that she was perhaps correct to a point. But she never covered how I should respond if no matter how fine my appearance, no matter how well I spoke, and no matter how well I carried myself, I was still defined by a stereotype.
What does this country see when they look at me?
