Illustration by Arnie Bermudez

Every now and again, I get nostalgic about my less-than-normal childhood. While other mothers would gently brush and braid their daughters' hair, I remember my mother taking a pumice stone and scraping my skin raw in an attempt to rid me of the dark coloring I inherited from my father.

Thanks to her full-blooded Spanish grandfather, my mother has a very European look with fair skin, slender lips and a petite nose. My father, on the other hand, carries the more typical Filipino look with darker skin, full lips and a nose that looks like the result of being laid on his face as an infant.

Try as she might - with all the pumice- scraping, pinching the bridge of my nose to make it pointier and incessant reminders to pucker my fat monstrosity of a mouth - my father's genes prevailed.

However, for all those times I felt inferior because I didn't measure up to some Eurocentric standard of beauty, I feel somewhat vindicated by the fact that darker skin is now in fashion.

Susan Bonicillo Columnist

While my paler friends peel, burn and turn unnatural shades of orange to get that coveted sun-kissed look, I just have to wake up with this color. Even more amusing is the fact that I'm a reference point for their tanning ventures, as in: "I'll stop tanning once I'm a little lighter than Susan." As helpful as I try to be, I never thought I'd be used as a human color swatch; but then again, I'll do anything for my pasty friends.

Because of how I look in this culture, I'm considered "exotic." I've never felt comfortable being described by that word, mainly because I don't feel I deserve such a title. That sort of word should go to those women with thick, intoxicating accents or to half the actresses who ever played a Bond girl.

Meanwhile, though I feel very well- entrenched in Americana and identify more with apple pie and baseball, the way I look comes across more like fried rice and running barefoot through the jungle.

As human nature goes, curiosity gets the better of people, and sooner or later they want to know exactly what I am.

Some are a bit more conniving, dancing around the subject, trying not to make a direct inquiry. Some of the best lines include: "Do you speak any language other than English?" and "So, I hear Guam's really nice this year. Do you know anything about that?"

However, others are ballsier, which I respect, and just flat out ask, "So, what ARE you?"

Maybe I should be offended by this question, but I'm not. Maybe it was a result of being the fat kid in grade school and having to endure the all-obligatory taunts that come with that position. Or maybe it's all the lovely letters that I've received from you, gentle readers - I've cultivated an extraordinarily thick skin.

Still, there are others who do get offended by that question. Though to the questioner it's a completely innocent matter, to the one being questioned it's an indelicate query.

Asking such a thing opens the door to a host of emotions. Though we try to be an accepting culture, there's comfort in being anonymous in terms of ethnicity. When someone calls that into question, it's a loud wake-up call that there is a part of you that is different from the vast majority. Possibly, offense comes from some sense of protection arising from the fear of thinking others might view you differently because of your answer. With the amount of stereotypes, both negative and positive, that float around, it can make you think twice about aligning yourself with any one group.

Plus, how can you adequately tell people what you're all about? Can you really define yourself on the spot like that? Does that one word, that one category, encapsulate you? By reading into the question, it does seem offensive that you can sum up your entire essence with just one word.

However loaded that question can be, I think most people are entirely well-meaning and innocent in asking it. It's natural to be curious about differences. And asking, "What are you?" opens the way for a more open dialogue. By not even acknowledging how we are different because sensitivity dictates such behavior, we perpetuate ignorance.

Susan Bonicillo is a sophomore majoring in English. She can be reached at letters@wildcat.arizona.edu.