I generally feel more kinship with other multiracials, regardless of their ethnicities, because we all have to ponder our identities. My father is Chickasaw Freedman, my white mother was disowned for marrying him, in 1960s California. Now things are different. My young Russian kids think they’re just half-American, with no clue yet about the nuances. Here in Germany, the terms “multiracial” and “mixed-race” don’t sound nice. I’ve learned a new phenomenon, the hard way: when a person looks “ethnic”, but has a poor relationship with the ethnic parent (usually the father), the person doesn’t like being multiracial, and doesn’t appreciate friendly, curious questions about their background. And young people today seem to have anger issues, just waiting for a chance to be offended. My 87-year-old father’s generation was different, e.g. he confirmed that they had no problem with Aunt Jemima. Today it’s “The Coddling of the American Mind”, but combined with a very real, festering criminal-justice problem based on Drug Prohibition. /stream