Mixed Like Me, Shannon McClain

Blissfully ignorant. That's what I was those first 8 years of my life. My "mixedness" was a given. I didn't question it because it was all I knew, therefore normal. My mom is a beautiful shade of cocoa brown. My dad-very fair and freckled and Irish. I was somewhere in between. Cafe au lait and slightly freckled. Not exactly the color of my older sister, nor my younger sister. We were all a little different, but still the same because we were a family.

It was other people outside of my own family that pointed out my differences. "Why does your hair do that?" my white friends would ask me after swimming in the summertime. "Why are you so light?" my black friends would say when we were double dutching on the playground. I learned to answer their questions quickly and try to change the subject. I didn't like how it felt when everyone standing within earshot would stare at me, waiting for me to explain this mixture of DNA that was Shannon McClain. Sometimes I'd get annoyed, and say "I'm purple. What are you?" And walk away.

I felt different, but every kid does at some point. I really think it made me more empathetic to other kids who were outsiders. I could tell when they were hurting because they felt left out or picked on. And I would do my best to include them. Growing up mixed also made me curious about other people who were different.

There were very few Asian kids in my small town. Not alot of Latinos either. I was intrigued by the few people I met who were from other countries. I wanted to hear stories about where they came from. I was interested in what kinds of foods they ate. And I wanted to learn how to speak their language. Being around them made me feel more connected to the world outside of the two bridges that enclosed the 8 miles or so of Coatesville, Pennsylvania.

I met Raj-or Bong as we called him in middle school-in 6th grade homeroom. He was new. A thin Filipino boy who didn't speak English very well. The kids in class would tease him, but for some reason, I felt he was a kindred spirit. So I would stick up for him against our classmates. He lived a few blocks away and we'd rollerblade together after school with his younger brother and my younger sister. He now lives in London and is still one of my best friends to this day.

Then there was Lily. She was Chinese and an artist. She could draw like nobody's business. Her hair was cut in a shaggy, pixy-like do at a time when every girl wanted to look like all the other girls at school. But Lily was so unapologetic about being different, being herself. She introduced me to rock 'n roll. She was obsessed with Queen and whenever I hear Bohemian Rhapsody, I think of her.

Phaimany was a lovely girl from Thailand that I met in 7th grade. Like me, she was a latch-key kid and also the daughter of a single mom. I remember hanging out at her apartment, eating Thai food and listening to stories about her country.

Not to say that I didn't have black & white friends who impacted me growing up, because I certainly did. But my friends from other countries shared with me a perspective and experience that was special and beautifully different. It opened my eyes to the fact that there was this fantastic world outside of Coatesville. It also wet my appetite for the travel I would later do in life.

When I finally left my hometown to attend college in Philadelphia, I realized that the larger world was more accepting of my own differences and individuality. I also learned that each person I met would see me in a different way. Some of my white girlfriends at college would look at me and say, "I want to have a mixed baby like you, but with green eyes." As if having a mixed child was some kooky scientific experiment. The Domincan and Puerto Rican girls who went to Villanova automatically thought I was one of them and would ramble away in Spanish. The Asian kids thought I was Hapa-part Phillipino or Hawaiian or even Japanese. I tried to explain to them I was the product of a black mother and white father and they'd shake their heads.

"But your eyes look Asian," they'd say.

"Well, my mom is part Native-American too. Maybe that's it," I'd reason. Or maybe it was the fact that I was an actor. I'd spent my entire life studying people of different races and nationalities. In fact, the better part of my childhood was spent transforming myself into other people-characters in plays from other time periods. I was, and still am, a chameleon of sorts.

Thinking that my mixedness would certainly be an asset in Hollywood, I moved to Los Angeles after college and came face to face with a stark reality. There are very few roles for mixed girls in Hollywood. Actually, there are very few roles for anyone not white in Hollywood. At least not major roles. Sure I've played bit parts...I've been an Arabic woman twice. Three times I've been a Latina. Once I was a "Blackanese" in a short film. And sometimes, my race was not mentioned in the indie projects I acted in. But if there's one thing I've learned, it's that you don't wait around for someone to create a box for you to check. In other words, I've had to create my own box. Essentially, the lack of opportunity was the catalyst for the start of my other career as a Producer.

I think it's silly that Hollywood has not yet become comfortable with portraying a mixed-race family. Our president is mixed. But I have never turned on the tv to watch a sitcom about a family with one black parent and one white parent....or even one Hispanic parent and one Jewish parent-which is actually quite common in L.A. Although we're not represented, we mixed kids are a real part of the fabric of American culture. It's a different experience growing up in a household where you are exposed to two diverse cultures. You learn to view the world in a different way. And it is this difference that I'd like to see represented more on tv and in films.

I am so proud to be mixed. I am also proud to call myself a black woman because my mother has instilled that pride in me. She has always taught me how good I have it. That things have not always been the way they are now. That black people have worked so hard, and struggled for so long for me and my generation to be afforded the opportunities that we have now, so I better make the most out of it.

I also remember my dad telling me stories about his family coming to America from Ireland during the potato famine. And I remember my Grandma Libby telling me how my great grandmother was a Pee Dee Indian-a member of a Native American tribe in South Carolina. I think it is an asset to be able to look at my family and see a rainbow of diversity-beautiful shades of white, red, yellow, brown, and black. So, in the end, being different- mixed like me, Shannon McClain, is not bad at all. It's actually pretty darn cool.