By Anna Gibson

I remember Hurricane Katrina. Much like everyone else, in 2005 I watched as Black and brown people from some of the most impoverished sections of New Orleans were stranded. Everyone was left in a state of disgust and wonder as FEMA dragged their feet. Black people were on roofs and crammed into stadiums. At the height of all this, Kanye West did a segment during a Hurricane Katrina Red Cross relief concert where he uttered the famous words: “George Bush doesn’t care about Black people.”

By Danielle Small at Salon.com

It happened. I failed the “black” test. My hair stylist and I were chatting while she was taking a break from retightening my locs. I made a funny quip, and she extended her palm so that we could partake in the standard Black American handshake. In what was most likely the longest three seconds in the universe, I stared at her hand in befuddlement, trying to figure out what she was doing. By the time I realized that this was the handshake, it was too late. I tried to recover with some weird amalgamation of a fist bump and a high five, but the damage had been done. I had revealed myself to be the Carlton to her Fresh Prince.

I have often been asked 'Do you think you're white?'. This is usually a weak reference to my demeanor, which can be misinterpreted as 'haughty' on one end of the spectrum, and 'refined' on the better end. I stopped entertaining the question long ago, it is blatantly foolish and problematic. However, yes! In some ways I did think I was "white"- just not in the way the questioners thought.