Racism Meets Being Mixed.

I'd be remiss if i didnt state that my comrade Jillette inspired this article/ post.  In this article i want to discuss the concept of racism meeting being mixed.  In order to convey this message, I'll start by briefly describing my upbringing similar to how I've discussed it on podcasts.  

My name is Henry Conoly, I was born on January 4th, 1993 to Heidi Conoly and “.....”.  Shortly after my birth, Heidi recognized her inability to raise a child and signed full custody over to my grandmother Sharon Conoly.  Sharon was an older lady who was raised by Edward and Wilima Sammons.  Edward and Wilma raised Sharon in the mindset they had, one of a racist nature, and when Sharon's sister Noel decided to break free of the family's history and date a black man, she fell in line with my grandparents on disowning her.  Now fast forward a few years, Sharon is tasked with the job of raising me, someone who she knew as a moldable white baby.  And for the most part, she raised me as she was raised, my youthful years were ones where prejudice was instilled in me, and if it wasn't for cancer, my life trajectory might have been different.  A mutation in a cell determined my future, one of racism and prejudice or one of peace, love and fighting for equality.  

Jumping into the future, Sharon's death led to me being raised by Charlene and Jim Lewis, the close friend of Sharon and Charlene's husband.  This is where my journey and the concept of racism meeting being mixed begins.  When I turned 18, I moved out of Jim and Charlenes and reconnected with my biological mother and her new husband Chirs.  Chris, to describe who he is would be a New Jersey born boy who waved the Confederate Flag because of his “heritage”.  Heidi of course supported this as well and did nothing to stop it despite knowing how I came to be.  After 24 years living knowing myself to be white, after 24 years of struggling to understand what my skin color gave me, and after a few years of reconnecting with my blood family a typical family night in the garage changed things.

One night, a conversation began on how me and my brother Stephen, the other sibling with a different father came to be.  It was in this conversation that I found out my biological father wasn't white but rather a Puerto Rican guy not far from the garage i stood in.  At that moment, not only did the privilege of being white pass me by but also the idea that this key fact could have further changed my life.  Knowing this made me realize many things, not the biggest ebing that if Sharon had known this, I might not be where I am today.  One detail, the father I never knew, could have affected the trajectory of my life.

Many people who knew me prior to learning this fact describe me as having changed massively.. Some say that I've become too different, but I can't help but ask how this wouldnt change your life?  As someone who is white passing, I now look around me and see where people who aren't like me face the realities of the inherent racism of our culture while I skate by on the simple genetic circumstances that affected my skin color.  

The only way to reconcile these circumstances is to use the privilege of being white passing to fight forward on fixing our broken society.  The cracks of which permeate not only the traditional US circles but also the leftist circles I call home.  If we are to build a better society, we must first address the issues which are uncomfortable.  I did and so can you.

In peace and in love.