Caribbean Identity Isn’t One Color: Stop Policing My Mixed-Race Heritage

With nearly every blog post I publish, I like to include a visual—usually an image of a chef (a digital representation of me) doing something a little quirky or nonsensical. Why? Because that’s how I make my living. It’s my label, my identity in a sense. I’m a chef. It’s what pays my bills and flavors my stories. The image gives readers a sense of my tone—light, real, often absurd, just like life in the kitchen.

But someone recently left a comment on one of my posts that I will not be publishing. Why? Because it crossed the line.

They accused me of race misappropriation. Specifically, they asked why the chef images I use to represent myself are always “white” or “close to white,” and why—since I said I’m from the Caribbean—I don’t use an image of a Black man or just show my “real” self.

Let me tell you something: that comment didn’t just rub me the wrong way—it pissed me off.

First of all, what the hell does it matter what race I am? Are you telling me your decision to read my blog hinges on the skin tone of the chef in an illustration? How incredibly, pathetically racist is that?

Let me clarify: I am not “race misappropriating” anything. I was born and raised in the Caribbean. I moved away in my twenties. And like many people from the Caribbean, I am mixed race. According to my DNA breakdown, I’m 62% white, 26% Black, and 12% Asian. That’s not cherry-picked. That’s just the truth.

People look at me and assume I’m white. My accent throws them too—I grew up attending Catholic schools run by Irish priests, so I’ve been told I sound British, Irish, even South African. But no matter how I sound, no matter what you think I look like, none of that negates who I am or where I come from.

I use AI-generated images of myself because I value my privacy. I don’t post pictures of myself online. I never did, even back when I had social media accounts. That’s a boundary I have every right to maintain.

But don’t think for one second that I’m ashamed of my background. I’m not denying anything.

My father? A light-skinned island boy with light brown hair, green eyes, and the physique of a competitive swimmer. My mother? A stunning mix of Chinese, European, and Black heritage—high cheekbones, almond eyes, flawless brown skin. A beauty queen in her day, and a proud Caribbean woman.

So here’s the real question: Are people from the Caribbean only “authentic” if they’re Black? Do East Indians, Chinese, Syrians, or mixed-race people not count? Because on some islands, East Indians are the majority population. And mixed-race people like me are everywhere.

The Caribbean is not a race. It’s a culture. A complex, vibrant, deeply blended world.

So before you come at me with your outdated racial stereotypes and self-righteous lectures, check your own bias. You don’t get to police my identity based on your narrow expectations.

This isn’t 1939 Germany. It’s 2025. And I’m done entertaining racist nonsense disguised as social justice.

If you’ve ever questioned what Caribbean identity “should” look like, maybe it’s time to look deeper. Identity is layered—so is culture. I’d love to hear your story. Drop a comment below or share this post if it resonated with you.