Take the segregation and gang rivalry in Los Angeles or the hate crimes in southern states, like Texas and Atlanta.

This past April, a Hispanic father attacked his 14-year-old daughter after she chose a 15-year-old black guy as her dancing partner for a pre-quinceañera party.

My mom knew her father wouldn't approve either way. She knew if she wanted to be with my dad, she'd have to runaway with him. Despite not knowing she was pregnant with my older brother at the time, she hid in a bunk in the back of my father's van and they crossed the border together.

They settled in a largely Mexican neighborhood in San Jose, California.

Once, in 2011, my then-boyfriend and I left a photo of us, taken at an event, at a bodega by accident.

When we came back to retrieve it, the guys behind the counter, which looked to be Latino, handed it to us ripped in half.

"You're going to end up pregnant before you're married," she once said. But my grandfather—my mother's father—wasn't too fond of my dad.

My dad knew that in order to ask for my mom's hand in marriage, he had to have a house ready for her. He also knew that the American Dream was the dream he wanted to achieve for them. She's always said that he's 'mi media naranja' (a Spanish saying for soul mate).

But it's not only about where and how it started; it may not even be right to think it started from any one place.

There's a myriad of factors that are both onset by personal experience and exposure to what people see on television or read in the news.

Both minorities have been reported to confront more than cooperate in certain areas; reports have pinpointed competition for jobs as a factor.