“What are you?” It’s complicated.

My mixedness fascinates and frustrates people — including me.

Graphic by the author

In first grade, my teacher asked the class to make a heritage box. My mom and I found a shoe box and glued the Japanese, German, and American flags to the outside; we filled it with dolls, a tape recording of a folk tune, photographs. “This is my heritage,” I told my classmates on presentation day. But I…