It's not something I set out to do. Or be. It just sort of happened. I changed racial identities.

I was born caucasian, but over the past four years, I have become bi-racial--or as my clients (and their families) tell it-- "light skinned". 

Ok so this whole phenomena started a few years back, when one of my long time (black) clients asked me (one particularly cold morning) "why are your finger nails were turning blue?" I simply stated, "It's what happens to white people when they get cold--they turn blue."

As I said this, my client looked horrified. I thought he was reacting to the whole "turning blue thing". But no, it was because I classified myself as "white". He quickly corrected me, "Miss Andrea--you're not white. Don't say that!! You're light skinned." I tried to correct him, but he would not hear of it. I simply was not "white" or "caucasian" or even "peachy pink". According to my 10 year black client, I was "light skinned" and that was that.

So I forgot about the conversation---but then months later, BFF Steph made a similar comment. Then more clients began saying the same thing. And their parents. So I asked Steph, "From a black girl perspective--why are you and my clients saying I'm not white? Last I checked, I was. (And as anyone who knows me will agree--I'm WHITE-as in blonde hair, green eyes, glow in the dark white skinned and german. Hitler's wet dream: WHITE.)

Steph patiently explained: "Yes, your skin is white, but  you don't carry yourself as a 'white' person."

Me: "Then how do I carry myself?"

Steph: "As colorless."

Me: "Duh, have you seen the glow in the dark qualities of my skin? I'm practically see-through. Sunless tanner added to my skin only makes me not look like a chemo patient."

Steph: "Stop--I can't handle you right now." (What she says when my scarcasm gets to be too much).

Me: "What? I'm just saying. So I'm colorless. Is that a good thing?"

Steph: "Yes, it's a good thing. You transcend color."

Now for the record--I'm not (nor have I ever been classified as) a "wigger". I don't try to mimick the dress, language and mannerisms of my black clients and their families. Sure, I can fluently understand street slang, have some idea what the latest pop culture/fashion trends are amongst my clients, and have some understanding of the politics within the community I work in.

But that's called being perceptive and having good social skills. I'm dialed in to the clients, their families, and their community. If I worked in a predominantly Latino community, a Greek Community or Native American reservation etc, I would do the exact same thing.

When I started working with inner city lower income black families, I felt so self conscious. I thought, what can I possibly offer these people? How can I possibly support them and their goals? I didn't figure it out right away--that's for sure.

At first (I'm embarrassesd to admit this)  I once spent a six week period co-facilitating a therapy group of 6 black adolescent boys, all of whom I could barely understand. I'm dead serious!!! To my ears, they were speaking a different language.

 The boys all spoke so fast, their words all slurred together, and they used so much street slang--I sometimes would just sit there and nod my head--to look like I understood what they were talking about.  But I hung in there,  paid attention, and listened. 

And I started to figure out one of the ways I could support my clients--and it's so simple: I could listen to what clients would say and thoughtfully respond. Yea, I know--I'M A GENIUS!!!!!! So simple stupid, right?

But seriously, in this day and age--having someone completely utterly listening to you--fully tuned into what you're saying is something of a luxury. When I meet with the client's parents, often they are half listening to what I'm saying. The other half of their mind is preoccupied with texting on their phone, watching out for other kids in the house, or consumed with their own concerns.

But maybe, just maybe I'm becoming what Freud suggested a good psyhotherapist should become: a mirror. Hence--the whole blonde über Caucasian girl becomes a black person.  Clears up the whole racial switch issue.

So really, I'm not so much black as I am a mirror. Coooool. I've always wanted a super power.