Quadrapa

My co-worker asked me yesterday what my background is. She thought I was of mixed German descent.

Now, that’s a first. I’ve gotten Spanish a couple of times when I was living in the states, but never German.

Like almost everyone who first meets me, she thought I was Japanese. But then of course, as soon as I say my name, that gives me away.

I was born with reddish blond hair and as I grew up, it darkened but not to the jet black coarse hair common to asians. Instead, you can still see the red highlights when I’m out in the sun. My skin is fair with more pink undertones than yellow. My nose has a slight bump on the bridge.

I am 3/4 Chinese and 1/4 Portuguese. Or as someone once joked, I possess the stiff-upper-lip stoicism of the Chinese, coupled with the fiery temper of the Portuguese.

Not a hapa, which means half Asian/half other, my friend Colin (half Japanese/half Caucasian) calls me a Quadrapa.

I guess being 3/4 Asian gives me a more obvious Asian look than hapas, but still somehow just a bit “off-Asian.” I’ve been called exotic looking but I’ve also been called banana or white washed, so I try not to take these labels too seriously because my ego likes to think I defy categorization. I’m just me.

I don’t mind not being mono-racial, as I think being mixed means being part of two or more rich cultures. For next October, my cousin Kat and I are planning a big family trip to China and Hong Kong so we can learn more about where we came from. And my next big European trip will definitely include a trip to Portugal.

My mother’s side of the family (where the mix comes from) has always been accepting of inter-racial couplings. Three of my cousin’s kidlets are Chinese/Portuguese/African American, Chinese/Portuguese/Spanish and Chinese/Portuguese/El Salvadorian. And the rad thing is that nobody in the family treats these beautiful kidlets differently.

My mom has always instilled in me a belief that it’s doesn’t matter the ethnicity of the person I’d fall in love with. The only thing that mattered was if that person had a good heart. It’s one of those mother tidbits that I’d never forget and one of the first pieces of advice that I’d pass on to my own kidlets someday.