My-Two-Worlds-Growing-Up-A-Biracial-Latina-MainPhoto

My-Two-Worlds-Growing-Up-A-Biracial-Latina-MainPhoto
It started when I was in the second grade. It was recess at the end of the day and my mom was picking me up from school. I was on the playground when she drove up. I happily waved goodbye to my friends and jumped in the car. The next morning, one of my classmates asked me if the lady who’d picked me up yesterday was my babysitter.

“Huh?” I remember asking, confused. “No, that was my mom.”

“But you don’t look like her,” my bewildered classmate said. “You two are….different.”

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