A sad realization

I've mentioned before that my biological father was Afghanistanian but, for all intents and purposes, I'm white. I was raised white and I identify with white people in many ways. I grew up in the Southeast US, however, and I also sometimes identify with blacks, especially because most of the black population I've interacted with have treated me as multiracial.

So what does all this mean? Nothing really except that I'm as much a racial goulash as anyone else. So why am I posting on this topic? I went to an Iranian festival today and, even though my racial heritage is from a totally different country, I was among people who looked similar to me.

"Big deal" you say "What's so sad about that?" Well, the Iranian festival seemed more like a big family picnic - the community members seemed so close to each other. I realize that this may not be typical of all Iranian communities and that I'm probably romanticizing it a bit, but I just had this sense of loss, like I'd missed out on something precious when my mother decided to deny my racial heritage.

Even though I was raised white, it's possible that there are parts of Afghanistanian culture that I would identify with. Now, with the country basically in a state of collapse, I may never get the opportunity to find out. I'm certain that I'll never know my biological father or whether I have any step-sisters or brothers but sometimes I wonder about them. I wonder if there is something in me that would resonate with the people of Afghanistan - beyond compassion and sympathy for their struggle. Is there something inherently Afghani in me?

I suppose today's festival just triggered a heightened awareness of my racial background and the realization that, although I may learn facts about Afghanistan, the culture will probably never play a role in my life.