The Mestizo Experience

The Mestizo experience... This is happening a lot in America. It's the discussion that often gets ignored or frowned upon, especially among ethnic groups. As a Hispanic person who doesn't speak Spanish, I've been caught up in this "experience" a LOT. Popular culture tends to focus on the prejudice that happens between black and white, brown and white, and so forth. But rarely is the prejudice that occurs *within* the ethnic group ever discussed or acknowledged. I used to think it was just me. I used to think that because I didn't speak Spanish or paint the typical Chicano paintings that I was the black sheep. And yet... I'm seeing more and more people like me, struggling to become part of two cultures.

Living in San Antonio, close to Mexico, doesn't make things easy for me. At the risk of not being "politically correct", I will say that there are a lot of "expectations" of me. Here, everyone expects me to declare myself as "Mexican" American. Even when I tell them that I have relatives from Spain and other Latino countries, somehow my Mexican blood takes priority over them. You can imagine that I ruffle a lot of feathers when I try to defend the other places I come from. I'm not *just* Mexican, kiddos. I wasn't born in Mexico. I was born here in America. I am the product of generations of mixed blood.

Just because I don't say that I'm Mexican doesn't mean I'm degrading Mexico. Mexico is a good country, filled with proud people despite the drugs and corruption over there. Mexico is a country full of optimistic thought. But if you're going to try to clump me with everything Mexican, then you're no better than the persons who evoke prejudice or romanticization.

I've taken a *lot* of heat for not speaking Spanish. I didn't learn it because, when I attended kindergarten, this was during the time when schools forbid Spanish and you were scrutinized. I don't hold any ill will towards my parents, who had felt at that time that I may have a better chance at ranking up in this society by learning English first. it was the same for other parents.

Yes, I will learn the "language", even if that language may be inadequate to certain parts of the Latino community. Still, I will learn the language on my own terms. Do not force it down my throat. I don't take to pressure and bullying and guilt trips. If language is the only you find to be the hallmark of a culture then you obviously have overlooked the other elements. Like food. Like social links. In my culture, no matter how poor you are, you give food and whatever you have in hand to strangers. There is also a really tight connection to family, which I have adapted. I treasure my family. And despite what maintstream American culture tells me (which is more individually motivated and has a tendency to never look back), I will never lose that connection. Even with a dead mother and a tough past, my foot is still connected to my history. This is something my culture appreciates. We are a passionate group.

This is the price that we ethnic groups face. In the desire to become integrated into an overall society, we are bled dry by the ethnic blood within us. Exactly how *much* do I have to be Hispanic? Exacly how *much* do I have to be American? Is there a formula? From American culture, I will always be romanticized. When I went to A&M, I had one person there who wanted to be my friend only because I was "Mexican", treating me as if I'm some exotic creature. >_> American culture thinks of me as some Jennifer Lopez/Frida archetype. And from my culture, you take a lot of heat if you don't fit their expectations. I nearly threw a fit when, last year, i saw this Hispanic waitress trying to get the order of a family in Jims. For half an hour, that family kept scrutnizing her for not speaking Spanish or 'accepting the culture'.

So this piece is dedicated to those hardcore people who think every person has to follow these 'rules' in order to be a "genuine" person of ethnicity. This is for the person who considers ethnic blood to be the only imperative element to ones identity, who forgets personality and passion, who forgets whenever they scrutnize someone that they are no better than the bullies that bullied them. This is for all those old ladies I always encounter at the bus who frown or laugh or lecture me.