Do all things come in boxes???

"Would you consider yourselves an Inter-racial couple??"
Up until that question was posed to me, I hadn't actually thought about it......seems funny...but I hadn't really thought about it.....but what does it matter??
My husband is African American, and I am half-Indian and half-Somali ethnicity-wise, AND from Kenya.....
So are we an interracial couple?? Considering that phenotypically, I'm just a normal black woman? :-)

Talking to a gentleman at the department of Immigration gave me a bit of leeway with my kinda thinking luckily.
I asked him, what I should tick, with all those never ending forms that I've had to fill regarding ethnicity??
He said even he doesn't know what to tick because he's from Puerto Rico and doesn't fit into any category available! lolol. And as he rightfully said, it doesn't matter anyway.

I personally think, we human beings are obsessed with categorizing ourselves into every shape and form that we can think of, and somehow for whatever reason that gives us a comfort level.
I've never been at a level where I want to give someone a comfort level.
I want to be as different as can be.

This defiance didn't just come about right away however....It had to be slowly built after years of being in the front line of a constant stream of questioning....
Growing up was not easy....not easy in the least....with nowhere to really fit it, it took me more than 20 years to define who I was, and who I wanted to be.

Since there's a section of Somalis that do not consider themselves African, there is much confusion as to what people actually consider my father's people......African or not? Arab/not? or just Somali!
And since I didn't have a mother with 'ethnic African' roots anyway, my claim on being African, on being Kenyan, was always questioned.....always.
See in Africa, there's always the question of where your rural home is. And seeing that I was raised in the city and knew no other home, it was deemed that i was not really belonging to the land.
Where is your father from? Nairobi.
Where is your mother from? Nairobi.
No! you cannot be from Nairobi................where are you REALLY from???

From a very young age, this question puzzled me.
Every school holiday, most of my friends would go upcountry to their respective villages to visit their extended family.....they would go HOME.
But I never had such a 'home' per se.... My father was orphaned when young. His siblings were in the city along with us. My mothers family was also all in the city, and at that time, there was no concept of Afro-Asians. Despite being a 3rd generation Kenyan, my mother would always still be considered not African. So where was I meant to say I am from??
I never knew how to answer that question.

Then there was the phenotype issue.
The Somalis welcomed me, because I looked like them. but rejected my sisters (well, not verbally, but you could always see it) because they reminded my father's family that our mother was indeed an Indian, and not from coveted Somali bloodline.
The Indians on the other hand rejected me, and welcomed my sisters. My siblings would fit in better with them. I was just too much a shade darker for them to be comfortable with me. And in a society where being lighter skinned is what is defined as the standard of beauty, you can imagine how difficult it was to be consistently judged as the the ugly duckling.

So there you go.....
The Somalis wanted me, but would still always refer to me as the one with the Indian mother..and that rubbed me the wrong way.
The Indians didn't want me.
The rest of my fellow Kenyans didn't see me as a Kenyan...or as being a 'real' African.

So i grew up in a zone here and there, looking for others like myself....others who are displaced from society.

Going to Europe was a relief and a respite. There were no questions there, unless I ran into either one of my biological ethnic groups, then the quizzing began. Who is your father? Who is your mother? Which village are you from? etc etc etc.....
The formula never changes.....
But other than those few instances, it was a real relief. Nobody really CARED what I was and where I was from! Oh the joy......perhaps it is why I was so comfortable there. I never had to deal with that......gave my brain a break.

Moving to the Middle East brought back the all to familiar questions........Aargh!
Where are you from? No, where is you asli (origin)? Where is your mother from? Where is your father from?
Your mother married a black man? There were no Indian men there for her to marry???
The Middle East was a whole new level.
Other than the usual where are you from tirades, they mixed it with the racist colour issues as well.
Exasperating.
Worst of all is, the answers to all those questions are what determines whether you get a job, or good service anywhere, or just about anything done....
Actually worst was when my husband used to be constantly asked by Arabs as to why he married an African woman, when he has the chance to marry a white one, so that he can improve the colour of his children.........!!!
Their issues in that part of the world are just a little too deep for me....

So here I am now....with a whole new set of boxes to tick...this time not mentally, but also in every form that ever comes my way.....what it my ethnicity?
I still don't know the answer to that question.

They assume......
A lot of people do that round the world too, but here it's accentuated....and even when Americans leave their country, they carry that mind set with them. I don't think they are even aware that they do it.

For the most part however, there has been nothing unpleasant so far...or perhaps I'm comparing it with the Saudi Arabia where i just came from, and it would take a lot for anywhere else to reach that level of nastiness.
But really it hasn't been negative.
Just that people have been curious. and because they are so used to putting everyone in a box somehow, they just can't seem to figure me out.

As I said, it took me 20+ years to define who I was, and who I wanted to be.
And I consciously REFUSE to see colour. I refuse to.
I see people.
And just as I don't want people to put me in some box and assume things about me based on what they perceive I should be, I consciously make the effort not to do the same to others.

Why are we so afraid of people different from us?
Why do we feel threatened...uncomfortable....uneasy??
Why are we always striving to put everyone in some sort of category? whether it's tribes, skin colour, religious beliefs, ethnicities, body sizes.....you name it.
Countless times I get the most ridiculous questions and statements ever....like:
"Are you really Somali? but you speak such good English!"
"Wow, you are a very different Muslim. you are so easy going and tolerant to other people."
"Interesting, you seem to fit right into western society. I thought coming from Africa, this would be overwhelming for you."
"You should have married a Somali, and not DILUTED your blood any further"...!!!
And it goes on...........

I would like everyone to do an experiment...and see how many times a day, that you do categorize a person without a second thought? Without even getting to know them first.....how many times do you put a person in a box??? and WHY??