Alexa Berlein

[2001/2. In the photo my mother holds my brother: he is the baby with the big chubby cheeks:). And my Father is holding me in the left hand frame. We were on a train ride together. I love this train photo for the fact that my mom and dad are in separate frames. It almost communicates the racial segregation of apartheid here in SA.]

1992 | DURBAN, SOUTH AFRICA | White South African & Indian South African

When I think of my Mixed-Race identity, the first thing that comes to mind is my lifetime journey of living between two worlds. But that's not the story I want to focus on any longer. I think Mixed-Race people have more to share than a story of living between two racial realities. Now more than ever, people are challenging boundaries and questioning their identities. So another story comes to mind: one of protest. A story that goes back to when my parents met.

During the height of Apartheid South Africa, my mother (Indian South African) an art student at a college in Durban and my father (White South African), who was finishing his art diploma, crossed paths at an exhibition where they struck up a conversation around art and connection. It was an innocent chat, and they went separate ways, thinking nothing more of it. You see, they lived in a racially divided world, where people of different colours would often encounter one another in daily life but then had to return to their designated areas of residence. Campus life was similarly divided with Asian, Black, Coloured and White students segregated from one another. However there were 'grey areas' and even the militant Apartheid goverment couldn't control the formation of connections and relationships across races.

A year after they met, my parents ran into each other on campus. My mum was still a student, and my dad had recently assumed the position as a part time lecturer at the same campus. In all secrecy they formed a beautiful bond and relationship. Honestly I think I romanticise their love story sometimes. I get pretty emotional about it. Two people who were forbidden to be together because of the colour of their skin said "to hell with Apartheid', and chose to be together. They chose to stick it out. They got married; had a Hindu wedding AND a Christian wedding. They raised my brother and I with values that were inclusive of both our racial and cultural heritages. They fostered in us creativity, with which to see the world, as artists do. They also did their best to protect us from the many hurtful and distressing questions we often received from kids at school. It was tough to navigate the racially divided social world that we lived in. My family was a complete 'other' to the majority of monoracial families that lived in the area, so naturally we were looked upon with interest (or judgement!?) When I was out with my mother it was frequently taken for granted that I was her daughter because I presented with Indian features. But on occasion some children would ask me why I looked 'White' when my mother was 'Black'. Left confused, I knew very well that I did not look White. When together as an entire family, tons of looks and stares were apparent - because none of us were the same colour, which made public outings very awkward for me!

Thinking back on those moments, I fall into regret for feeling ashamed of my family's 'other' status. I shouldn't have had to feel that way about my family. We were normal just like everyone else. We laughed, we loved, we argued. We went on family holidays. We did things that other families did. But for some reason our familial activities and the mere presence of our Mixed-Racial family composition meant that we were often confronted with questions about who we were and how we did life, as if we were abnormal. 'So are your parents still together?' What religion do you follow then? If she is your mother then how come she is Black and you are White? Is that your dad?- but how come he is 'peach?' Such scrutiny by people resulted in me picking apart very routine every-day things about myself and my home life: a constant vigilance on how I acted or behaved. I just wanted to be 'normal' like the other kids and families.

Now that I am older and able to reflect with depth on my younger years, I see how much damage the outside world did to us. I often felt like I was 'wrong' in the eyes of society because of my Mixed-Racial heritage. I also believe that we were robbed of pure family enjoyment during our early childhood years - to participate out there making memories as other families could, without the stares and glares. But, I've become increasingly aware that being Mixed had me stuck in an anxious, negative outlook that was imposed by a dominant monoracial culture. I internalised a sense of abnormality about my Mixed skin and my mixed parentage. In adulthood I refuse to see it that way anymore. I suppose growing older and meeting more Mixed people like me helped me to change my perspective.

My parents' union as a Mixed-Race couple during Apartheid, is rather, a beautiful symbol of protest against a sick system. I now view my Mixed skin as an act of protest too. I am the two woven parts of my parents. I am alive because people like my mum and dad decided against all odds that they had the right to be together. And so I have the right to be here; to exist. I want people who identify as a single race to understand that their questions about who we are, what we look like, constantly picking apart our identity is now out-dated. I want the monoracial world, which still dominates much of society, to stop acting as if families of diverse skin colours are SO different that they cannot be together, or that they should not be given the space to enjoy life. In the end, I am the product of a Mixed-Racial union. And I think I'm pretty normal. I'm pretty human in fact.

I thank my parents for guiding me to always be sensitive and thoughtful of others’ experiences - to accept that their experiences are valid. From years of being 'other' I’ve learnt the power of empathy and not to ask direct insensitive questions, but to get to know someone in the ways they most comfortably describe themselves. I've learnt that we are all complex. We can't pick ourselves apart and fit ourselves neatly into boxes. We are a universe, a constellation of our childhood experiences, parents’ genetics, histories, cultures and customs. We all have the capacity to form connections with anyone anywhere because we are all naturally social beings.

And lastly, I've learnt from my parents' story that love is love is love, no matter who loves who. It's just love. And that's probably one of the most amazing things about the journey of being Mixed-Race. It is not just a story of struggling to live between two worlds but it is one that protests against the idea that actual separate categories exist. It is a protest against the idea that there are absolute rules and norms that cannot be changed or reshaped. It is a story that calls us all to look at the uncomfortable, hidden, denied parts of ourselves, and to accept those parts of who we are, no matter how mixed, complicated, or messy.

[2019. This was taken at my brother’s graduation. Our mother sadly passed away a couple of years earlier.]