What's it mean to be mixed race? I don't know who I am. Wish we could switch places. You could see from my eyes, like Eyes 5 on R5, the cashier bagging groceries, stares at my mama, says, this is your orphan? My new, she wasn't joking. She's heard it before. You see, mama's white. Daddy's black. And it's sad that this matters. Looking back when I was a kid, just trying to fit in these standards, grew up in some redneck town. I didn't care until I stepped on a ball court and got stares. They told me to leave, said it was just not fair. I'm too black. My jeans too much like Kobe and Shaq. I ruined the fun. I grabbed my ball, sat in the back of the bus. Now everyone's laughing a bunch, shouting stuff like Rosenpark hadn't died. Then a cop rolls by, jokes fly, say, oh no, Kyle Hyde. Someone tossed me some chicken, said they ran out of watermelons, said, nigger, just to sound cool. I brush it to the side, because I want it to be liked. Wondering why all the time, I so badly just wanted to be white. Wishing well, is there freedom for someone like me? Someone like me? Wishing well, is there a place for someone so unwell? Someone like me? Welcome to this world. Fast forward some years, I'm trying to change up my life. I pull up to the homie's crib and got that black mother hug. That black mother love, wishing I had it all the time. We start chopping it up. They talk about two-stepping as kids during lunch. Now I'm envious of them. I can't relate. I just smile, but inside, I just sigh, because then Oreo jokes fly. The white friends, man, why you trying to be white? You got that house nigger vibe. I just brush it to the side. We meet some girls at the club, but she said she wants a real nigger. But I was fun, now I'm just staring at the mirror, getting mad, like, why am I half? Wondering why I so badly just wanted to be black. Wishing well, is there freedom for someone like me? Someone like me? Wishing well, is there a place for someone so unwelcome? Someone like me? Welcome to this world. Maybe there's a day where I'll figure it out, because now it's like I'm two-faced, caught between two races, caught in the crossfire from two different places. Too talk, but too white to know it. Black enough to be hated, white enough to be token, but too black to show it. Where my people at? See, I don't care about race. I wish it didn't exist, but can't you see that it affects me, no matter what I wish? I mean, take a look around. Look how many outsiders feel like they don't have a crowd. Think about that next time you're saying out loud all the comments and the bullshit and the hatred that you want to put out. No, I'm proud of who I am. No matter which part you think I fit in, I'm proud of where I land and how I understand the work that needs to come. Like how people don't treat you by who you are, but what you look like, I ain't done. You see, I too dream of a day where you're judged by the content of your character and not where you're from. This is all that I have ever wanted. Call it dumb, but I know that I am not the only one. Wishing well, there's freedom for someone like me, someone like me. Wishing well, is there a place for someone, someone welcome? Someone like me. Welcome to this world. Wishing well, there's freedom for someone like me, someone like me. Wishing well, is there a place for someone, someone welcome? Someone like me. Welcome to this world. Just because I was like a different color than everybody else, I remember going to bed wishing that I would wake up white. More black men like me need to start doing what I'm doing right now. More black men like you need to start doing what you're doing. Interview your people.