Christian Arceo / Mexico
You never think about how important your culture is to you, until you grow up and realize how much it has shaped you into the person you are. I grew up in Southern California where there’s a little bit of Latin Flavor on every corner. Whether it’s the hard working raspado man, wheeling his cart for miles a day to make a living or the friendly lady selling Tamales at the gas station at 5 in the morning to the labor workers as they stop for their morning coffee. Though Hispanic culture was all around me, nothing compared to my experiences and lessons I was taught at home. I was born in Los Angeles to two amazingly loving and hardworking Mexican parents. I always thought that my family was particularly unique, in that we were closer than most, honest with each other and never held our thoughts to ourselves. It wasn’t till I grew older that I realized these were traits commonly shared amongst Hispanic families. Whether it is the hilarious uncle, who always has your stomach in stitches, your caring grandma who thinks you haven’t ate in days, or your brothers who though annoy you day in and day out, but really only want the best for you, these are the people in my life that molded me into the person I am; I proud Chicano man.
As a child, I grew up following certain rules or customs that I never questioned and figured every family followed. Some I agreed with and some I just didn’t understand till I was older. An example of one I agreed with and didn’t question, was the idea that no matter what you did, as long as you gave it your all and worked hard, you could accomplish anything. I witnessed how my parents came to the United States with nothing to their names and managed to work hard, buy a home and put food on the table for four growing boys. This was a prime example that I had no excuse to fail and I could never say “I can’t”. Then, there were those moments that I didn’t understand; something as simple as, why I could never sleep over a friend’s house. What was so wrong with having a sleepover and why if I wanted to hang out with my friends, did they have to be the ones to come to my house? I later learned this is a sentiment most Hispanic parents share. I later realized, it wasn’t that they wanted to ruin my social life, they just scared and worried so much. They couldn’t bare the thought of not knowing what I was doing or where I could be. This may seem a bit over protective, but at the end of the day I look back and think, “wow they really do love me.” Of course, being Chicano isn’t always just about the life lessons and anecdotes your relatives tell you day in and day out; there’s fun stuff as well, like food.
Growing up I could always expect two things at dinner; my dad's salsa roja and laughter. Food is something that always brought my family together. My dad grew up poor in Mexico, so he knew how important it was to teach us how special having a hot, home cooked meal was. He would always make sure there was enough food, and always said, “it’s better to have leftovers, than for someone to not have enough.” To me, this message meant less about food and more about compassion and thoughtfulness of others. As we would all gather together at every meal, it was a roasting session between the family, a group therapy and a chance to just tell everyone about your day. There was never a dull moment at the kitchen table. You learn that life is something to be shared with the ones you love most. I never understood those times when I would go to a non Hispanic friend’s house and they would eat microwaveable meals and goto their rooms for dinner. There was a sort of disconnect that I was never accustom to. Those moments really made me cherish my Mexican family and culture . Something as small as eating frijoles and eggs at the dinner table became extremely special. As long as i was surrounded by family, nada me hacía falta.
I may have said before that it wasn’t all about lessons, but that’s the beauty about growing up Mexican, everything is a lesson. If something breaks, it’s an opportunity to learn how to fix something. “Dad, a pipe burst!”, typical response: “grab a wrench, a flashlight and come here”, and let the lesson begin. If you have a Mexican dad, you have a household handy man, with a PHD in ser chingon.
If you have a Mexican Mom, you have a doctor, therapist and masseuse all rolled up into one. The life lessons you get in a Mexican household are things you will hold close to your heart until you finally have the opportunity to pass them on to your own children. Then they become tools for your own life. Oh, and one more thing! You never stop learning. Funny thing is, the older you get, the more the things you didn’t understand before, now make sense. I guess at the end of the day, growing up Hispanic really means one thing: family. They’re synonymous in a sense. No matter what you’re going though, you’ll always have someone there for you, no matter what. You’ll always learn something new. You’ll always laugh, cry and most of all, smile. If you grew up anything like me, then you’re full of amor y orgullo.
As a child, I grew up following certain rules or customs that I never questioned and figured every family followed. Some I agreed with and some I just didn’t understand till I was older. An example of one I agreed with and didn’t question, was the idea that no matter what you did, as long as you gave it your all and worked hard, you could accomplish anything. I witnessed how my parents came to the United States with nothing to their names and managed to work hard, buy a home and put food on the table for four growing boys. This was a prime example that I had no excuse to fail and I could never say “I can’t”. Then, there were those moments that I didn’t understand; something as simple as, why I could never sleep over a friend’s house. What was so wrong with having a sleepover and why if I wanted to hang out with my friends, did they have to be the ones to come to my house? I later learned this is a sentiment most Hispanic parents share. I later realized, it wasn’t that they wanted to ruin my social life, they just scared and worried so much. They couldn’t bare the thought of not knowing what I was doing or where I could be. This may seem a bit over protective, but at the end of the day I look back and think, “wow they really do love me.” Of course, being Chicano isn’t always just about the life lessons and anecdotes your relatives tell you day in and day out; there’s fun stuff as well, like food.
Growing up I could always expect two things at dinner; my dad's salsa roja and laughter. Food is something that always brought my family together. My dad grew up poor in Mexico, so he knew how important it was to teach us how special having a hot, home cooked meal was. He would always make sure there was enough food, and always said, “it’s better to have leftovers, than for someone to not have enough.” To me, this message meant less about food and more about compassion and thoughtfulness of others. As we would all gather together at every meal, it was a roasting session between the family, a group therapy and a chance to just tell everyone about your day. There was never a dull moment at the kitchen table. You learn that life is something to be shared with the ones you love most. I never understood those times when I would go to a non Hispanic friend’s house and they would eat microwaveable meals and goto their rooms for dinner. There was a sort of disconnect that I was never accustom to. Those moments really made me cherish my Mexican family and culture . Something as small as eating frijoles and eggs at the dinner table became extremely special. As long as i was surrounded by family, nada me hacía falta.
I may have said before that it wasn’t all about lessons, but that’s the beauty about growing up Mexican, everything is a lesson. If something breaks, it’s an opportunity to learn how to fix something. “Dad, a pipe burst!”, typical response: “grab a wrench, a flashlight and come here”, and let the lesson begin. If you have a Mexican dad, you have a household handy man, with a PHD in ser chingon.
If you have a Mexican Mom, you have a doctor, therapist and masseuse all rolled up into one. The life lessons you get in a Mexican household are things you will hold close to your heart until you finally have the opportunity to pass them on to your own children. Then they become tools for your own life. Oh, and one more thing! You never stop learning. Funny thing is, the older you get, the more the things you didn’t understand before, now make sense. I guess at the end of the day, growing up Hispanic really means one thing: family. They’re synonymous in a sense. No matter what you’re going though, you’ll always have someone there for you, no matter what. You’ll always learn something new. You’ll always laugh, cry and most of all, smile. If you grew up anything like me, then you’re full of amor y orgullo.