Growing up, I always struggled to find a place where I could fit in, and it’s been a difficult road. When I hang out with white people, I’m considered black. When I hang out with black people, I’m white. But neither of those labels really defines me.

I’ve been in situations where I’ll tell someone my ethnicity and they’ll tell me that I don’t look black enough.

Well, my sincerest apologies, but there’s not much I can do about that.

The point is, people will see what they want to see. Asking my ethnicity tells the questioner very little about me; however, I can learn a lot about people based solely on their reaction to my answer.

I guess I should consider myself lucky that my racial ambiguity allows me to slip into several different ethnic backgrounds. If you want me to be white, I’m white. If you want me to be black, I’m black. I also can play the roles of Native American, Latino and Arab.

My point is that these differences are just in our minds. At a certain point, we’re all American, and I wish more people could see that. I sure think it would make the world a better place.

The first time racial and ethnic minorities made up more than 50 percent of children born in the U.S was in 2011. However, this distinction seems odd to me. Most Americans have some mix of ethnicities in their background, whether they know it or not. For some of us, it’s just more obvious than others.

If Americans still are following the one-drop rule — meaning that any person with “one drop of black blood” is considered black (or whatever race is concerned) — which unofficially has been followed for generations, then I highly doubt this is the first time that minorities make up more than half of the population.

Based on the one-drop rule, nearly everyone would be a minority.

I think it’s notable to mention that it’s a commonly accepted idea that a person with any black ancestry is considered black in America.

It’s not even necessary that half of one’s ancestry is of African descent. In fact, thanks to slavery, it’s often difficult for many African Americans to determine the country of origin of their African ancestors, let alone determine an exact percentage of African ancestry. My question is: how black do I have to be to be considered black? How white do I have to be to be considered white?

At what point can I just call myself American, and stop with all the questions? The reason I hate being asked about my ethnicity is not just because it’s a complicated answer. Everyone has a complicated answer.

The reason I hate talking about my ethnicity is because I hate being labeled and put into a box just to soothe someone’s mind or tickle their curiosity, particularly when none of those labels seem to fit.

This is America — “the melting pot” — we’re supposed to pride ourselves on our diversity. Placing people into objective boxes isn’t the way to do it. We need to redefine ourselves and realize that everything is not just black and white.

I’ve struggled a lot with my ethnic identity throughout my life. For years, I tried to place myself under one specific heading: black or white; but it’s simply not that easy.

The culmination of my life experiences, which affects the way I see the world, has been different from both African Americans and white Americans. And sometimes, this can make it difficult for me to relate well with people who fall clearly into either ethnic group.

Only recently have I realized that my diverse ethnic background is actually a blessing that allows me to better relate to a wider range of people.

Caron Creighton is a guest columnist at The State News and a professional writing senior. Reach her at creigh16@msu.edu.