By Angela Nissel
“Tell somebody who asks that you’re half-black and half-white, similar to David Hasselhoff from Knight Rider.”–Angela’s mother
“Love has no color,” insist Angela Nissel’s mom and dad, yet does it have a clue? during this candid, humorous, and poignant memoir, Angela recounts turning out to be up biracial in Philadelphia–moving from side to side among black inner-city colleges and white prep schools–where her racial ambiguity and doomed makes an attempt to mix in puppy her teenager years. as soon as in collage, Angela experiments with black activism (hoping to discover readability in extremism), capitalizes on her “exotic” examine a strip membership, and finally ends up with an incredible case of the blues (aka, a racial id problem). but Angela isn't down for the count number. After relocating to la, she discovers that being multiracial is whatever yet easy, in particular when it comes to relationship and romance.
By turns a comedy of mistakes and a relocating coming-of-age chronicle, combined strains one woman’s unforgettable trip to self-acceptance and belonging.
Praise for Mixed
“I love Angela Nissel's writing. studying Mixed used to be like getting a letter from a ally I forgot I had. How ironic e-book written via a person who felt like not anyone "got" her would definitely be a kind of infrequent books all people will get- black, white, either, neither. Hilarious, candy, and sincere, Mixed is the ideal learn if you've ever felt just like the one status at the outside-- and let's face it, who hasn't? - -Jill Soloway, writer of Tiny women in glossy Pants
“Nissel is funny, poignant, and proud but additionally empathetic and beneficiant as she recounts her consistent fight to reply to the perennial query folks of combined race appear required to invite of themselves in our society–where do I healthy in?.... All readers stand to benefit from her account.” — Booklist
“Colorful anecdotes, tremendous discussion and a considerate narrative make this memoir a delight.”–Kirkus stories (starred review)
"If David Sedaris was once a instantly biracial woman, this is often the publication he'd write. This publication is so humorous I've already began telling humans I helped Angela write it." -- invoice Lawrence, author of Scrubs
"Growing up black and white, I consistently felt I had the easiest of either worlds. i believe an analogous approach approximately Mixed. It's the ideal mix of hilarious comedy and occasionally tragic reality." -- Yvette Lee Bowser, writer of Living unmarried and govt manufacturer of Half and Half
"Mixed is a hilarious must-read for a person looking for the mesmerizing route to self-discovery. Angela Nissel's distinct account of residing the combined race event not just hit domestic with me, however the trip is deliciously enlightening and heart-rending even as. It's a trip really worth taking." --Halle Berry
Read or Download Mixed: My Life in Black and White PDF
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Extra info for Mixed: My Life in Black and White
He asked. I nodded. ” I shook my head. I’m not much of an upchucker. I can and have eaten pizza on heroin. ” I nodded. ” “Something else,” I squeaked guiltily. ” By the time we had this conversation we were almost halfway home. Out of the city center and crossing the green fields and country roads back to Cumbernauld. ” he inquired tentatively I shook my head. I couldn’t speak now. All my concentration was on clenching. He sprang to action: reeling up the center aisle of the bus like a sailor in high seas as it careered around the winding roads, he made his way down to the front and talked to the driver.
Giants and fairies was how he described classical music. He could just as well have been talking about show business. Gunka said he’d buy me one of the big waxy discs for a present, yet as much as I had enjoyed the Norwegian composer’s opus, I wanted a pop music album instead. Gunka agreed that that might be a good place to start, and we whittled the options down to two: the Beatles’ Sergeant Pepper or a Monkees album called Headquarters. To my eternal shame, I chose the Monkees. This was because I was only eight and the Monkees looked cheerful and friendly on their album cover, whereas the Beatles had beards and my father had told me that you couldn’t trust a man with a beard because you didn’t know what he was hiding.
I nodded. ” “Something else,” I squeaked guiltily. ” By the time we had this conversation we were almost halfway home. Out of the city center and crossing the green fields and country roads back to Cumbernauld. ” he inquired tentatively I shook my head. I couldn’t speak now. All my concentration was on clenching. He sprang to action: reeling up the center aisle of the bus like a sailor in high seas as it careered around the winding roads, he made his way down to the front and talked to the driver.