Throughout childhood, we learn the U.S. is the world’s “melting pot.” I took this to mean that there are a lot of people like me — people of two or more races. But that’s not true. The U.S. Census reported that only 2.7% of the US population is composed of people who identify with an origin of “two or more races.”

Even though this is noticeably larger than the Native American and Pacific Islander populations, sitting at 1.3% and 0.2%, respectively, multiracial people in the U.S. may sometimes feel like their own minority group.

While the multiracial experience is personal and different for everyone, here are some of my reflections on what life as a Japanese-Mexican-White American means to me:

The small things remind us that we’re different.

Despite sounding contradictory to the premise of this article, it isn’t uncommon for multiracial people to feel like we do fit in with those around us. This is because we don’t feel completely tied to just one culture. We belong with everyone, right?

Not quite. It’s easy to snap out of this mindset because the small things remind us that we’re different.

What are you? Where are you from? Where are your parents from?

The harm in these not-so-common common questions is that, while the inquisitor may be genuinely interested in our culture(s), it points out that we look different. We are viewed by other Americans as being different from them, leaving us to wonder if we are, somehow, less American.

After running a race this past October, a man came up to me and, unintentionally, took first place for the strangest encounters I’ve ever had with people who were curious about my ethnicity.

Beginning with, “What are you?”, I gave him my well-prepared answer: I am half Japanese, a quarter Mexican, and a quarter white. After offering, “Wow, that’s a unique mix,” he proceeded to take a photo of me without my permission. (This photo was, presumably, because of the “uniqueness” of my ethnicity.)

But what’s worse than people always asking what we are is people guessing what we are… incorrectly. This makes multiracial people not only feel different, but it makes us feel less connected to the cultures we are a part of.

Do I not look like I am a part of my culture? Am I a racial impostor?

Whereas “impostor syndrome” describes an individual’s doubts of their capability, worthiness, and accomplishments (often experienced after a promotion or earning a new position), “racial impostor syndrome” not only describes these feelings due to race, but it also describes the feeling of not deserving to belong with people of your race.

Last year, I attended a “How to Get Funding in Grad School” presentation, hosted by the Society for Hispanic Professional Engineers. As the presenter began discussing scholarship opportunities for LatinX students, he glanced at me and tried to include me by saying, “And there are many scholarships specifically for women as well.”

But I’m Latina too, I thought. Why are you calling me out when most of the attendees here are women? I wish I looked more Latina.

(Source: Common App)

Most multiracial people have experienced racial impostor syndrome and have stories like mine. It’s no wonder that filling out the “Race” section of tests and applications starts to become a moment in which we feel like we need to prove who we are. Selecting more than one race wasn’t even an option until 2010.

On top of these common occurrences, there are numerous other small things that make a multiracial person feel different. Seeing the country flag of one of our cultures, hearing the native language, attending a culture-specific event, etc. We know it’s ours. But at the same time, we feel like we must prove it.