Mixed not Half

Whenever somebody asks me whether I’m half this and half that, I cringe. Almost irritatedly, I tell them, “no”.

It’s not that I claim to be just one of two nationalities. On the contrary, I am in full acceptance of what I am. That is why whenever I get asked, I try to resist seeing myself being cut in half. Then I wonder, if I were to be cut into two, would one part be white, the other brown?

I am mixed.

If you put together flour with sugar and water and butter or whatever and bake it, you don’t get part-flour-part-sugar-part-water-part-butter as a result, but a cake. These parts can’t be separated from one another once they have mixed.

I am Filipina. I am German. I am both, as one.