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“Nahhh,” I yelled back, not bothering to look over my shoulder, but I knew I had surprised them with my accentless English, my big hoop earrings, my brown lips.

If my features make me a chameleon, Suri reminds me that South Asians still have privilege: “The difference is, with Indians, because the institutions aren’t leaned against me, I can change the way I speak, change the way I dress, get a job at a bank and become an entirely different person.” He urges “acknowledging that wiggle room that we’re granted.” And I do.

Ahmed Mohamed, the Sudanese American teenager whose arrest at a Texas high school over a homemade clock made him a poster child for anti-Muslim sentiment, says he is black. The choices aren’t always about how we identify, but whom we identify with.

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I’ve spent the bulk of my grown-up years here, never feeling squeezed to be whiter or blacker.

“African,” murmured some teenagers hanging out on a street corner here on a recent night as I passed them.

Asked at his last news conference whether there would be another black president, Obama joked, “I suspect we’ll have a whole bunch of mixed-up presidents at some point that nobody really knows what to call them.” That future may not be far off.

Whatever forces are working to erect walls and negate travel documents may be too late to change what is underway: Immigration and birthrate trends suggest that by 2046, the United States will be made up of more non-whites than whites.

“All of these other groups have faced their own ‘isms,’ their own discrimination, on different levels,” Joanne Hyppolite, a curator at the African American History and Culture Museum in Washington, says of the relationship between immigrants and African Americans. I’m bold here in Washington, where I moved more than a decade ago and quickly pronounced myself home.

Black immigrants in particular were at the forefront of the civil rights movement, she notes. The District was once “Chocolate City” — 70 percent African American at its peak in 1970 — and though the percentage of black residents is slipping precipitously, it is still a place I have been the most comfortable in my dark skin.

Sometimes the question is posed with curiosity, sometimes with darker intent. For those who don’t understand a person of color’s obsessions with race and identity, I want to point this out: For the past five years, whole cities across the country have been roiled by police shootings of unarmed men and women targeted, some believe, for their skin color.

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