Being Biracial Made Me History

Grow Gratitude welcomes our very first Biracial Awareness Guest Blog Post! Yet another perspective, read on to capture a glimpse of how “her story” made “history”!

I was born a biracial baby in a predominantly White, back-mountain town. As a matter of fact, I was the first biracial baby from the first biracial family in the town’s first founded hospital. Newsworthy perhaps, especially given the place and times. I do believe my birth was the beginning of my education in humor. Let me explain…


First, I want the atmosphere of my birth to be completely understood, if that’s possible. My mother is a White woman from England married to a Black man serving in the U.S. Air Force at the time of miscegenation (no interracial mixing). Although it was customary for the town’s newspaper to print the bouncing baby birth announcements, my mothers’ name, (and mine for that matter…the bouncing biracial baby), were not printed along with all the other proud mothers who gave birth in that small maternity ward. Somehow a brown baby was ok just as long as White plus Black don’t make brown.  Well hell they cheated me out of my big arrival!!! Worse yet, the grace it must have taken for minds to use such strength to control the smallness of their thoughts and actions in such a big world. Wow! Ignorance must be bliss! (LOL!)  

Now folks let’s be real!  You know how exhausting my birthday was?  My mother was perplexed by the endless stream of visitors through that maternity ward who stopped by to catch a glimpse of me. Yes, that’s right. They came to see me! Maybe seeing is believing. But if seeing really is believing, they still couldn’t believe it. Maybe it’s because they got a good taste of the full flavor of my evidently jaw-dropping exquisite existence.

First of all, I arrived with an impeccable British accent. I laid in my crib, sipping tea and used my proper princess wave as I continuously said “Ello!  Are you alright, mates?!?” And when the line of admirers moved along, I cooed, “Cheerio!!!”  

I can’t remember how long the biracial baby tour lasted that day but I’m sure I must have greeted lots of “newsy” (my bad), curious people, most who probably missed the point that there’s much more to me than what they saw (or were willing to see).

Now looking back at the anticipation and antics of my arrival I smile. What was initially a conscious act of overlooking my existence by the newspaper could not stop me (or my mother) from making history in the books. I am grateful that despite what they did (or didn’t do), I still exist. Because I am… Wendy!

Grow Gratitude thanks Wendy for sharing her biracial experience of the day she entered the world! And what an experience it was…entertaining for everybody! 

 See You Next Time!  Pink Heart



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