When I walked into the ice cream shop with my five-year-old biracial son the man behind the counter glanced at me and stared at my child ldquo What are you rdquo His question and harsh tone triggered the all-too-familiar anger and heartache I rsquo d experienced growing up as a Mexican-American who didn rsquo t fit stereotypes Pulling Xavier closer I turned toward my black husband as he entered the store With eyes narrowed the store clerk completed our order in silence I prayed silently for the man as my son listed the flavors of ice cream he wanted to
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