Related to Being Mixed...

I'm sure my post the other day about being left out of the King's cultural mix sounded really emo of me, but it's the truth.  Anyway, I found evidence of the Indian thing that I mentioned before in some reading I've been doing while waiting for my text books to arrive.  I'm reading Danzy Senna's Caucasia, which I heard about through my moms.  Mount Holyoke assigned it as summer reading for the incoming freshman class.  Knowing how much I love mixed things, she recommended it to me.  Swell lady.  Needless to say it's tremendously better/more interesting than Wash U's assigned book when I was a freshman: One Nation, Underprivileged.  Here's one of the passages that really spoke to me in terms of its honesty and relatability:

The man next to me looked Indian.  [...]  He was staring at my face, hard, as if he knew me.  I turned to him and tried to assume my mother's hardest expression.  He didn't turn away this time.  Instead, he began to chatter to me in what sounded like Elemeno [a made up language I share with my sister].  It took a second for me to realize he was speaking his own language.  And he was fully convinced that I would understand.  He was asking me the same question, repeating it, with an expectant, friendly smile.

"Sorry, mister," I finally said.  "I don't speak it.  I speak English."  not only did I not speak his language--whatever it was--but I didn't speak Spanish or French either.  My mother had left that out of our lessons.

The man raised his eyebrows, and said, "Oh, pardon me.  I thought you were Pakistani.  Indian?"

"Nope, neither," I said, shaking my head.  "I mean, I'm American."

He laughed.  "No, but where are you really from?  Your ancestors.  Where are they from?"

"Everywhere.  I mean, before they got here, I guess they were from England and Africa.  My mom's white.  Dad's black."  

His expression changed slightly.  I had disappointed him, deeply.  He had been homesick and had seen his home in my face.  Now he turned away, no longer interested.  (377, 378-9)

(Senna, Danzy.  Caucasia.  New York: Riverhead Trade (Paperbacks), 1999.)

Anyway, I came across this passage the other day that was essentially my experience with my pre-freshman at Wash U, and what I'm sure would have happened with Leon on the scavenger hunt if he had been bold enough to be straightforward.  This book is my mixed community connection while I'm here, since there isn't a club.