Tamia clasps her hands together while staring longingly out of the bay window at the full moon peeking from behind the clouds that seemed determined to block its light. The sky was darkening earlier and earlier these days, even before daylight savings hit a few weeks prior. The moon was not it’s brightest, but she could feel it’s energy coursing through her veins.

It was the Mestizaje of natives, Africans, and Spanish that created the new race entitled Mexican, but all I saw when I looked into the mirror was a young Mexican girl. I thought being Mexican was my one and only ethnicity. Going to a predominantly white elementary school never let me forget that. As a fourth grader at Feather Flower Elementary, I was constantly teased for being ugly. “Ha! You like Stephanie!” my white classmates would say as they pointed at their friend and then to me. I felt my cheeks burning from embarrassment.