I have been giving this a lot of thought over the weekend and the more I think about it, the angrier I get.
I was sitting at a Thai restaurant with a friend. We were talking about how regions adapt ethnic foods to their own taste. Americans love Taco Bell, for example, yet Mexican tacos are nothing like that. Chinese food in America is not authentic. We were sharing examples like these and I made a comment in my regular voice, no change in tone or anything, “Well, me being Mexican, I admit we make most foods spicy even when the authentic version doesn’t go that way.” When I said I was Mexican, my friend’s eyeballs wanted to pop out and her head made a sudden jerk from side to side to see if anyone heard. She realized what she did and tried to go back to normal. I let it go.
Then on another occasion we were sitting at a bar. “Well, my Mexican instinct tells me to try it, but I won’t, because I don’t handle tequila very well.” Again, when I mentioned being Mexican, same reaction.
She’s not Mexican, by the way. So, I asked her about last time and this time and waited for her explanation. Maybe I was taking it the wrong way. Our conversation went something like this:
She: oh, I didn’t mean to seem shocked by you, but you just took me by surprise and I guess I wanted to see how people would react. You just yelled it!
Me: I didn’t yell it. The tone in my voice and the volume never changed.
She: it felt that way.
Me: Why?
She: Well, you just blurted it out as if nothing.
Me: nothing what? Like it’s not a swear word? Like it’s ok to be Mexican?
She: Not like that... it’s just that you’re so like whatever about it.
Me: why shouldn’t I be?
She: I don’t know. I’m not Mexican. I don’t know how I’d talk about it in public. It makes me nervous. Give me a break.
Well, damn.
I should whisper the word Mexican in public, because omg how will people react.
I’m MEXICAN and I’m AMERICAN and my ethnicity will pop up into my conversations because it’s part of my fucken identity and I’m PROUD of my background and I will NOT whisper it to someone who isn’t Mexican so she doesn’t lose her comfort in her perfectly label acceptable world.
I remember a dude from Chile who lives in LA. He once asked me how I liked living in the USA. It was an odd question to me, because I was born here and mostly raised here, too. “I love it. It’s my home.” He said, “Really? Don’t you know?” I asked what he meant. He says, “That everyone in the US hates Mexicans. They confuse all of the rest of us with you and we have to explain that not all brown people are Mexican. Your people are really hated in the US.” Dude. Don’t I know about racism and prejudice? Yes. Don’t I know that there’s people who would love to have a reason to say, “See! Told you Mexicans are criminals!” Don’t I know other minorities also look down on us and hate being confused with one of us? Don’t I know that, “You’re too pretty to be Mexican,” is really an insult? Don’t I know? Yes, mother fucker, I know.
But I also know that this is MY country and nobody can take that from me. I know that MY family has made our people proud. I know that not everyone around us thinks the same way and I know that I am NOT ashamed of who I am or what blood is keeping me alive.
Why the fuck should I be ashamed? I grew up being ashamed of so many parts of my identity, and I won’t waste my adulthood being prudent about something like my race. There is no merit in your place of birth, and there is no merit in your bloodline. You didn’t earn it. You had no choice. I do, however, have a choice in how I identify myself and how I carry my labels. People will label people and let me tell you something. I’ll wear all my labels proudly. They are my skin. They are my story.
I will not whisper my name.
End rant.
I was sitting at a Thai restaurant with a friend. We were talking about how regions adapt ethnic foods to their own taste. Americans love Taco Bell, for example, yet Mexican tacos are nothing like that. Chinese food in America is not authentic. We were sharing examples like these and I made a comment in my regular voice, no change in tone or anything, “Well, me being Mexican, I admit we make most foods spicy even when the authentic version doesn’t go that way.” When I said I was Mexican, my friend’s eyeballs wanted to pop out and her head made a sudden jerk from side to side to see if anyone heard. She realized what she did and tried to go back to normal. I let it go.
Then on another occasion we were sitting at a bar. “Well, my Mexican instinct tells me to try it, but I won’t, because I don’t handle tequila very well.” Again, when I mentioned being Mexican, same reaction.
She’s not Mexican, by the way. So, I asked her about last time and this time and waited for her explanation. Maybe I was taking it the wrong way. Our conversation went something like this:
She: oh, I didn’t mean to seem shocked by you, but you just took me by surprise and I guess I wanted to see how people would react. You just yelled it!
Me: I didn’t yell it. The tone in my voice and the volume never changed.
She: it felt that way.
Me: Why?
She: Well, you just blurted it out as if nothing.
Me: nothing what? Like it’s not a swear word? Like it’s ok to be Mexican?
She: Not like that... it’s just that you’re so like whatever about it.
Me: why shouldn’t I be?
She: I don’t know. I’m not Mexican. I don’t know how I’d talk about it in public. It makes me nervous. Give me a break.
Well, damn.
I should whisper the word Mexican in public, because omg how will people react.
I’m MEXICAN and I’m AMERICAN and my ethnicity will pop up into my conversations because it’s part of my fucken identity and I’m PROUD of my background and I will NOT whisper it to someone who isn’t Mexican so she doesn’t lose her comfort in her perfectly label acceptable world.
I remember a dude from Chile who lives in LA. He once asked me how I liked living in the USA. It was an odd question to me, because I was born here and mostly raised here, too. “I love it. It’s my home.” He said, “Really? Don’t you know?” I asked what he meant. He says, “That everyone in the US hates Mexicans. They confuse all of the rest of us with you and we have to explain that not all brown people are Mexican. Your people are really hated in the US.” Dude. Don’t I know about racism and prejudice? Yes. Don’t I know that there’s people who would love to have a reason to say, “See! Told you Mexicans are criminals!” Don’t I know other minorities also look down on us and hate being confused with one of us? Don’t I know that, “You’re too pretty to be Mexican,” is really an insult? Don’t I know? Yes, mother fucker, I know.
But I also know that this is MY country and nobody can take that from me. I know that MY family has made our people proud. I know that not everyone around us thinks the same way and I know that I am NOT ashamed of who I am or what blood is keeping me alive.
Why the fuck should I be ashamed? I grew up being ashamed of so many parts of my identity, and I won’t waste my adulthood being prudent about something like my race. There is no merit in your place of birth, and there is no merit in your bloodline. You didn’t earn it. You had no choice. I do, however, have a choice in how I identify myself and how I carry my labels. People will label people and let me tell you something. I’ll wear all my labels proudly. They are my skin. They are my story.
I will not whisper my name.
End rant.
"Hipster is what happens when young hot people do what old ladies do." -Exian
