I am a Black woman. I know my roots began in Africa. No, I do not run through the streets yelling ‘I am African-American' to proclaim my African ancestry. However, walking through the streets of America, I am reminded daily of my roots. I know that I am Black, but I am not conflicted about this unchanging, defining characteristic of myself. Not only are ethnicities so clearly divided within the social context of the United States, the history of this country also maintains clear separations between those of different ethnic backgrounds. In countries where the color lines are not so clearly divided, how do the people identify themselves? From where does their heritage come? And what role does their heritage play in their daily existence? These questions never crossed my mind until I studied in the Dominican Republic. After landing in the capital, Santo Domingo, I recall thinking to myself, "Wow, these people look like me!" but they do not identify as I do. Throughout the time I spent in Santo Domingo, I observed differences between light-skinned Dominicans and those who had dark skin. I wondered if Dominicans thought blackness is a negative thing.

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