My Colored Eyes

I am a part of the growing population of people of mixed descent, and am both privileged and punished by relating to my Mexican heritage but not resembling the stereotypical Hispanic. Most people aren't aware, even in these times, that you can be Hispanic whether you are as white as paper or as dark as its ashes. I have grown up privy to all the privileges of a comfortable lifestyle, typically among Caucasians, both in my neighborhood and honors classes in my rural town. Yet I am reminded of my heritage by the food I eat, the style of music I wake up to on a Sunday morning, and traveling to a dusty, dog-filled village in Mexico to bury my grandfather.
I wonder sometimes whether resembling my classmates in immediate appearance has been a good or a bad thing. They unthinkingly offer up 'dirty Mexican' jokes, only to find that I am not amused. They confide in me how they could never date a black girl or a black boy, and I can't support their sentiments. I wouldn't be here if such relationships didn't occur. Yet, I don't think I would change the way I look to deter such comments. …