I discovered that I didn't belong as soon as I learned how to read.
Eager to show off my new reading skills, I pleaded with my mom to let me fill out a form as we waited at my doctor's office. The first few questions were simple enough: "Name," "Age," "Gender." Then my eyes scanned down to the section titled "Ethnicity". I asked my mom what it meant, and she told me to just check off "other."
As I stared blankly at the check boxes before finally ticking off the "other" box, it became my first revelation that I didn't quite fit.
More from Michaela Alexis:
A career that's hazy will drive you crazy: Finding clarity in a blurry life
Your inner critic is a bonehead: 5 beliefs that are holding you back
5 life changing books you need to check out to build a LinkedIn following
My father was born and raised in Port-of-Spain, Trinidad, and immigrated to Canada in his thirties. I know what you're thinking right now, and yes, that would make me biracial. No, apparently my genes did NOT get the memo.