The answer is half. 50%. Can’t that be good enough? I’ve heard various reports that my blackness ranges anywhere from 11% to 62% depending on a statistical regression analysis of how wonky my white mother was (very, from rural Kansas), the authenticity of my Kenyan father (dark roast), my musical taste (jazz, but lots of Brubeck), food preferences (love me some chick’n, grilled, occasionally breaded) or some of my other attributes (sensuous purple lips, well-spoken).

My wifey Michelle (Ivy league grad, junk in the trunk) framed this disconcerting issue most eloquently when she said, “Stop messin with my brains.”

Associated Press

(That woman I’m afraid of is my paternal grandmother. Really.)