First, a question: What am I??!
Me: "Oh, I'm on the fourth floor, too!"
Guy: "We're neighbors! Are you a student?"
Guy: "Which school? Okay, wait, don't tell me. I'm getting a Phd in Literature vibe from you."
Me: "Ah, no, I'm a slave to law...I'm a law student."
Guy: "Ohh, wow. Didn't think that. I'm in the medical school."
Me: "Oh cool, you're the first person I've met from there."
Guy: "Can I ask you, what is your ethnicity?"
Me: "Haha, I'm Italian and Puerto Rican."
Guy: "I knew you had some flavor in you!"
I get this a lot. What are you? Most of the time the guess is Italian, which is partly on the money, and most likely because of my very recognizably Italian last name. Sometimes it's "Jewish." Often it's "Middle Eastern," or Persian, which I don't think is a very PC term anymore. This summer I was told I am "definitely not Irish." One time I got, "Are you part Chinese?" I also remember a guy I liked in high school's ex-girlfriend calling me, "so ethnic looking in some photographs." That was ridiculous. If you're going to be jealous of me, don't be racist about it!
By now I've come to not accept but embrace the ambiguity. I certainly don't identify with one group of people, so why let people make me feel like I need to? That's the best part about this world. How small it is and yet how different we think we are.