Color is a tricky thing... My Mom was Native American, born on the Standing Rock Indian Reservation. My Dad was German. Different areas of the country do look down on different races.

For instance, when I lived in the Twin Cities, where there is a heavy Native American population, the whites looked down on them. As a "white" girl, I was the coolest thing since sliced bread...untill my Mom came to visit. My neighbor asked me "Who was the f*ckin' injun at your house?" I calmly replied "That f*ckin' injun is my Mother." After that, I was no better than a dog turd to them. It was a very interesting lesson, to say the least.