I am Black. I am a Germaphobe. I am a Recovering Hipster.

This February, Social Citizens celebrates Black History month and honors the impactful contributions made by Black Americans throughout our country’s history. Stacey Walker offers a reflection on what this observance means to him and what our individual and collective identities represent.

Stacey serves as a Program Coordinator at the Case Foundation and works with the Social Innovation team which oversees all general programming for the organization. Prior to joining the Foundation, he ran a nonprofit organization that focused on providing educational resources to underprivileged youth in his home state of Iowa.

I sat near the front of the class like I always tried to do, listening as the professor pointed to my best friend and roommate and asked a seemingly innocuous question, “And what island are you from?” Normally this would be an odd question coming from a professor, but we were in our first day of a course entitled Art of the Pacific, and my roommate was as brown as a paper bag with stubby legs complete with tribal tattoos and classic jet black Islander hair. My friend Paki then shared a little bit about the island of Samoa, his home country.

My professor looked at me next and asked, “And you? What island are you from?” In an attempt to be cheeky, I responded “Africa, probably Western Africa, although I’m not sure what country.” Thankfully my professor laughed and we all went on with class per usual . In fairness to him and to all others who ask me questions about my background, my ethnicity is not easily discernible. In addition to the more traditional traits associated with African Americans–a wide nose, full lips, and a long frame–I have very light hair, greenish eyes, and fair skin. Needless to say, I am accustomed to inquiries about my heritage.

However, as I reflect on this moment and other similar ones, I realize that my response was motivated out of a strange sense to better define my identity. It is strange because it wasn’t as if my identity was being assailed, but on a certain level, perhaps the subconscious level, it always feels as if the inquirer is automatically assuming I am an “other,” from some foreign faraway land, instead of just being from Toledo, Ohio, like them.

We celebrate Black History during this month, and while racial awareness is on my mind throughout the year, I lend the issue special attention during this time. I suggest that we all take a moment to reflect on what makes us, us.

To what things do we ascribe our identity; for me, that which is my most prized possession? And not just our racial identity, but our larger identity. For instance, I am Stacey Walker, an African American male, first and foremost. On other levels, I am an Iowan, a Liberal, a recovering hipster, an Agnostic, a secret Dixie Chicks fan, a germophobe, an eternal optimist, a writer, a young professional, a pianist, a tennis fan, a beleaguered political junkie, and one of those guys with a girly name. Collectively, all these things and more make us who we are, and yet not one of them defines us. This is the beautiful thing about identity, it’s an amalgamation of things, and perhaps this is why we all instinctively feel the need to make it clear to others.

Personally, it is particularly moving to be able to reflect upon my identity in the age of President Barack Obama. I often wonder how black identity in general has changed—in America and the world—now that it’s no longer inconceivable for a minority to ascend to the highest office in the land?

Alternatively, how has this changed what it means to be white, or any other race for that matter? Can we finally say that we’re approaching the idyllic society in which Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. dreamed of, or are we still decades away? These are all complicated questions and they should be.

However, I have a strong faith in America; faith in our ability as a country to talk honestly about these things. And perhaps that very conversation is what will do the trick and really help us turn the corner to really appreciating and celebrating all of our identities. As a nation of immigrants, our strength has always lied in our diversity, and it is my hope that this will continue to be the case going forward.