Always appreciate the way you approach topics! I shared a bit of my background with you once, in a comment on one of your articles. So, here's my story: I am a member of a White family, but our family history is one of so many lies, that I am unsure of anything. There's Dad (Portuguese and Irish descent), Mom (both parents from mainland Portugal), my sister (who is fair-skinned, has light brown/blond hair, and greenish brown eyes), and me (who came out of the womb looking Black). If you look at my picture today, without a tan, I look White. If you look at my early school photos, I look Brown. My sister and I were treated very differently by my parents, grandparents, relatives, and neighbors. My parents have photo albums full of my sister's pics, but I came home from school one day to find all my baby pics torn up and thrown in the wastebasket. When I asked my mother, "Why?", she said, "You looked like a little mullato [please excuse my use of that horrible word, but that is the word my mother used to describe me], and you were an embarrassment to us." Apparently, my father's Irish mother came to the hospital when I was born, and told my father that my mother must have cheated on him because there was no way that I could be his child. My Portuguese relatives (who were from Lisbon, not from the Azores), used a Portuguese word meaning N---- to describe me. My grandmother used to beg my mother to keep me out of the sun. My kinky hair was chopped super short, because my parents described my hair as a "rats' nest." When I started school, I was taunted with N----. When I met my first husband's Nordic background family, I was asked right out if I was black. I now have a Puerto Rican husband. Neither of us consider ourselves White in our souls. I have never felt White, and I am glad.