Olivia Vargas / Mexico
I remember when I was in grade school I would ask what all the other little kid’s ethnicity were, not because I was genuinely curious but because I wanted to tell them that I was Mexican. I would tell them “My Daddy is from Chihuahua and my Mommy is from England” even though that’s not quite true.
My Dad is Chihuahua Mexican, though he was born in Los Angeles, and my mom is Northwestern European, born in Sacramento. I didn’t even know why I was so prideful, I just was. I was always proud of where I came from. I still am.
Growing up now, I feel like I understand why I always felt the need to tell everyone my ethnicity, because if I didn’t no one would know. I am a white passing child of mixed race and I felt like I was trapped within my own self.
I’m pale, I have light eyes and dark hair. To any stranger I am what you would call white. I can not speak Spanish for the life of me and I was raised by my single Caucasian mother so I never grew up with Mexican culture in my house. Of course when I would stay with my dad he did best to influence us of the way he was raised, but staying with him 2-3 out of 5 days of the week doesn’t have much impact on the way your parented at your normal house.
Because of these things I always felt the need to tell everyone who I was. If I didn’t, I would feel as though I had this big secret that I just could not keep. It got worse in middle school when people would just say these awful things in my presence and thought it was fine because no person of significance was around to hear it.
“Maybe if they weren’t so lazy they could get their work done, but they can’t help it can they?” , or “Maybe things would be easier if they just went back to their country”, and even better “The only thing they could amount to is a house maid or a gardener”. These were all things I heard being said around me, but no one had a problem saying it because I like everyone else around me was “white”. But what could I say to that? “Hey I’m Mexican so don’t say that”? What would happen then? Maybe their screwed up words would be suddenly be meaningless because a girl two seats over said so? That’s not how it works.
But like everything else in life, things change. People learn and evolve and grow into better people. I’m now in a place where I’m surrounded by those who are the same as me, yet so different. We talk of our own lives and experiences with others and our homes. We talk of the difference of our cultures and beauty of them. Our Spanish may be different, but our familial love towards one another could never reflect so well. My friends have my back no matter which country we come from. I have friends who can relate with me and who make me proud to say that I am Latina. I mean I’ve always been proud to say that I’m Latina, but now I understand why.
My Dad is Chihuahua Mexican, though he was born in Los Angeles, and my mom is Northwestern European, born in Sacramento. I didn’t even know why I was so prideful, I just was. I was always proud of where I came from. I still am.
Growing up now, I feel like I understand why I always felt the need to tell everyone my ethnicity, because if I didn’t no one would know. I am a white passing child of mixed race and I felt like I was trapped within my own self.
I’m pale, I have light eyes and dark hair. To any stranger I am what you would call white. I can not speak Spanish for the life of me and I was raised by my single Caucasian mother so I never grew up with Mexican culture in my house. Of course when I would stay with my dad he did best to influence us of the way he was raised, but staying with him 2-3 out of 5 days of the week doesn’t have much impact on the way your parented at your normal house.
Because of these things I always felt the need to tell everyone who I was. If I didn’t, I would feel as though I had this big secret that I just could not keep. It got worse in middle school when people would just say these awful things in my presence and thought it was fine because no person of significance was around to hear it.
“Maybe if they weren’t so lazy they could get their work done, but they can’t help it can they?” , or “Maybe things would be easier if they just went back to their country”, and even better “The only thing they could amount to is a house maid or a gardener”. These were all things I heard being said around me, but no one had a problem saying it because I like everyone else around me was “white”. But what could I say to that? “Hey I’m Mexican so don’t say that”? What would happen then? Maybe their screwed up words would be suddenly be meaningless because a girl two seats over said so? That’s not how it works.
But like everything else in life, things change. People learn and evolve and grow into better people. I’m now in a place where I’m surrounded by those who are the same as me, yet so different. We talk of our own lives and experiences with others and our homes. We talk of the difference of our cultures and beauty of them. Our Spanish may be different, but our familial love towards one another could never reflect so well. My friends have my back no matter which country we come from. I have friends who can relate with me and who make me proud to say that I am Latina. I mean I’ve always been proud to say that I’m Latina, but now I understand why.