Have you ever had an awkward conversation about race, either in the classroom, with your family, with your friends, or anywhere else?

Who was part of the conversation, and what was the topic? Why did it feel awkward?

Do you think there is anything that could have been said, or done, to make that talk go more smoothly?

In a 2016 Times Race/Related piece, “Defining Ethnicity,” Logan Jaffe, Saleem Reshamwala and Bayeté Ross Smith worked on a project focused on these kinds of conversations. Here is how they introduce it:

Hey, it’s Logan (@loganjaffe), Bayeté (@BayeteKenan) and Saleem (@KidEthnic), embedded mediamakers with the Race/Related team at @nytimes in collaboration with @POVDocs. For the last few weeks, we’ve been asking each other potentially awkward race-related questions here on Instagram and sharing the answers with you all as a way to start more open, personal conversations about race across our racial and ethnic lines.

The piece then highlights a few of their viewers’ favorites:

LOGAN: To start, Saleem, how ethnic ARE you? Is there, like, a scale? SALEEM: That alter ego, KidEthnic, started as a tongue-in-cheek reference to always being “the ethnic kid” in groups. Grew up in the suburban South, Mom half-Japanese and from Japan, Dad from India. “Ethnic” is a weird word. In practice, in the U.S., it can mean “not black or white” or “parents aren’t from here” or “eyes aren’t the same shape as mine” or “spicy in a more-than-just-black-pepper way” or “speaks a language not offered in high school.” While I lose points for having no cool accent, and being actually born in the States, I’ll give myself “American-other” bonus points for occasional colorful holiday dress, eating a monthly-ish meal of goat-foot soup, having kind of brown skin, a lot of syllables in my last name, skipping school for religious holidays, having grandparents from several countries and sometimes speaking to family members in non-English. Overall total: 7.6 out of 10. Like, a-touch-more-than-Tiger-Woods-level ethnic. BAYETÉ: When did you realize you were white, and to what extent can you as a white person decide to not be white? LOGAN: One of my favorite books as a kid was “People” by Peter Spier. It’s beautifully illustrated and depicts all kinds of different people all over the world, with different religions, diets, face shapes, houses, clothing, etc. I remember when I was 6 or 7, going through the book and circling the images that looked like me. I think that’s when I was first aware that whiteness was something I could identify with, but even then I thought of it more like “light peach,” because I was looking for literal coloration in the book. I think I knew I was Jewish, actually, before I knew I was white. But this image of the kosher Jew in the book looked nothing like the Judaism I knew as a kid. I also remember circling all the different kinds of hair that, if you put them all together, looked like mine: I had shoulder length hair with bangs, but the color hair of the woman with the curlers, the skin color of the woman with the mirror, and the texture of the man on the right. So, Bayeté, to what extent can I as a white person decide to not be white? I think I can personally feel and identify as a little less white in the moments when I really connect to my religion. This might be during Rosh Hashana, Yom Kippur or Passover … I even feel less white during Christmas time, when I’m reminded my religion is actually practiced by a very, very small number of people worldwide. But this is all to say that I partly feel this way because for so long, “whiteness” has equated with “normal,” the status quo, assumed to be the default. And that’s the problem. I can’t ever totally distance myself from that idea of whiteness because I’ve benefited from it my entire life. And I try to use that benefit to call out its association with normalcy as much as I can. (Also P.S. like that moving pool background? It’s because I grew up in Miami. ἳ4ὂ0) LOGAN: Have you ever been the token black person? What does that actually feel like? BAYETÉ: Being the token is interesting, because on the one hand you want to go against the concept of tokenism and don’t want to be people’s mascot, allowing them to feel more multicultural and progressive than they actually are. On the other hand, there is opportunity and — dare I say — some responsibility on one’s part, to kick down the door for everyone else. The challenge is to turn these kinds of situations into opportunities for dialogue around race and to illustrate the value you bring to a situation. Remaining silent — allowing people to think it’s O.K. to have a “token black friend” — is a disservice to the group. Even places like Northern California and New England, supposedly progressive strongholds, have this problem. Not only in regards to ethnic diversity but, just as noticeably, diversity of thought … Ultimately though, when these situations arise, it is important for me to use them as a teachable moment; and do so with some empathy.

Students: Read the entire piece, then tell us:

— Did any of the questions or answers stand out to you? If so, which one, and why?

— Do you personally find it hard to talk about race? Why or why not? Why do you think it is so hard for people in general to discuss this subject?

— What could you say, or do, to make conversations around race easier, smoother and less awkward? Is there anything from these conversations that might help?

— Is there someone with whom you’d like to have a conversation about race? If so, what might you ask?

Related: Our lesson plan, First Encounters With Race and Racism: Teaching Ideas for Classroom Conversations