I was excited to read  “too black to be Hispanic, too Hispanic to be black” I really empathized with the author. I didn’t think much about my own race or ethnicity until I was raised in the United States. I’m from a small town in Brazil and we all just thought black, white, yellow, we’re all Brazilian. Unlike other states where there are more cultures present. In São Paulo there are Chinese, Indian, and other foreign cultures present but not in little old pontezinha, Recife. I was shocked when I came to America and saw how many different people there were. It boggled me that all of them came from different places yet they all speak the same language. I was mesmerized. As I grew older I saw how people continuously questioned where I was from. I also experienced racism when white people that lived in my building continuously caused problems with me and even called the cops once claiming I was trying to break into my own apartment… Being that we live in New York the melting pot people from all over the world are here. No one really knows much about Brazil and most assume we’re all white. Which is not the case. I’m biracial. I have both Portuguese and Angola (Africa) descendants. Yet I’ve been very much aware that I have a rather ethnic face. During the winter I become pale and I’m often mistaken for Greek or Italian or if I wear my hair curly and I’m tan it’s assumed that I’m Arab. I don’t mind it but growing up it felt imperative for me to be as nationalist as I could. I wanted to represent my country and scream it from the top of my lungs. I was proud to be Brazilian. I wouldn’t find many Brazilian people my age growing up and it saddened me. However, this allowed me to merge with many people of other cultures and learn new things. I was able to learn Spanish and speak it with many friends. I learned to see different perspectives other than just a “Christian” mindset when I became close friends with Buddhist and Muslims. It was great but I still never shut up about my country. I honestly never will. It’s more than just nationalism. I love my country with my heart. Each of us are so different but our culture makes us into such passionate people. Always being confused as someone from somewhere else. Being discriminated because of how I looked. It was surreal for experiencing such a dislikeness to being different when I never understood it to matter. I never thought it could matter.