To Be Lati-Gringa Part 1
About a month ago, I began reading stories from Mi Voz, Mi Vida: Latino College Students Share Their Life Stories and it has been a revelatory experience as I have realized how i'm not alone in some of stereo-types, worries, and racism i've encountered in my life. I don't know how long this is going to be, and i'm not even sure who is going to read this, but its okay. If I can reach at least one person, either someone who has similar experiences or someone who isn't Latin@ who wants some insight into what it feels like not to be part of the majority, then this post will accomplish what I hope it does. So this is my story, at least the beginning. Please don't be quick to judge or be mean, what I write is simply my own thoughts on racism and what it means to be Latina based on my life experiences...
Perhaps the reason why I have always felt the need to exceed expectations is not only because I am Latina. Perhaps, the combination of things that have made me 'different' are to blame. What ever the reason may be, ever since I was little I have felt the need to prove myself to show others around me that my worth is not dependent on my size or my ethnic background, that I am capable of so much more than what others may initially think.
Like some of the stories found in the book mentioned earlier, to understand my story you must also know a little about my parents and my upbringing.
My mom is Dominican and my dad is Paraguayan. If you are familiar with Latin America's geography, you're probably wondering how they met. To put it simply, New York. Soon after my parents got married, they moved to Utah, where my mom had previously been studying English. Both my parents put a lot of emphasis on education growing up. Part of it is because my mom never got to finish college and has always had to work extra hard to make an income because of it.
On the other hand, my dad has always seemed to associate education with success in America. Its as if, for him you have to have an education to make the 'American Dream' happen- which is true in a lot of ways.
I grew up in Ogden, a 'larger' city in Utah where the white to non-white ratio is more equal than in other parts of the state. Although my family was never wealthy, I grew up with my siblings in a predominately white neighborhood. My classes in elementary school were mostly white and I went to church and participated in classes of almost entirely white children.
My siblings and I grew up in a bilingual home, but we all eventually lost our ability to speak Spanish. Personally, it just got to a point where I realized that for other kids, speaking Spanish wasn't cool and that it made me different than everyone else. As I got older and noticed more differences between myself and my peers, I tried to get rid of or hide any part of me that was different. Which unfortunately meant that I worked hard to keep my ethnic background a secret.
In middle school, there were many more latin kids. I began to form my own stereo-types about what it meant to be latino, thus adding to the list of things that I distanced myself from. I actually stopped wearing anything black in middle school and throughout high school because I associated wearing black with the 'bad kids', who sadly were often the latinos in my eyes.
They were the trouble makers, they were those who did poorly in school, they were never going to 'make-it' and I wanted nothing to do with them.
So I worked hard to distinguish myself from them and to prove that I wasn't really one of them.
When I was 8 or so, my parents divorced. Before the divorce my family wasn't rich by any definition, but we definitely were stable and I don't remember worrying about money. But after the divorce, we struggled. Living on a single parent income isn't easy period. Living on a single parent income when that parent doesn't have a degree just adds to the difficulty. Even though my mom always encouraged us to finish our education, she did so more than ever, so that we could grow up and have a better life than she did. In a lot of ways, failure has never been an option. And not because my parents put a lot of pressure on me, but because I personally felt how hard life can be when you don't have a college degree.
I was always a good student and I often took pride in the fact that I was a 'smart' latino.
In many ways it helped me feel more "white", which I thought made me a better person. It wasn't until I served an LDS mission in Peru that I learned how to appreciate my heritage. After I got back home, I was finally able to face my own feelings of self-doubt and general dislike of my ancestry.
Part two to come...
Perhaps the reason why I have always felt the need to exceed expectations is not only because I am Latina. Perhaps, the combination of things that have made me 'different' are to blame. What ever the reason may be, ever since I was little I have felt the need to prove myself to show others around me that my worth is not dependent on my size or my ethnic background, that I am capable of so much more than what others may initially think.
Like some of the stories found in the book mentioned earlier, to understand my story you must also know a little about my parents and my upbringing.
My mom is Dominican and my dad is Paraguayan. If you are familiar with Latin America's geography, you're probably wondering how they met. To put it simply, New York. Soon after my parents got married, they moved to Utah, where my mom had previously been studying English. Both my parents put a lot of emphasis on education growing up. Part of it is because my mom never got to finish college and has always had to work extra hard to make an income because of it.
On the other hand, my dad has always seemed to associate education with success in America. Its as if, for him you have to have an education to make the 'American Dream' happen- which is true in a lot of ways.
I grew up in Ogden, a 'larger' city in Utah where the white to non-white ratio is more equal than in other parts of the state. Although my family was never wealthy, I grew up with my siblings in a predominately white neighborhood. My classes in elementary school were mostly white and I went to church and participated in classes of almost entirely white children.
My siblings and I grew up in a bilingual home, but we all eventually lost our ability to speak Spanish. Personally, it just got to a point where I realized that for other kids, speaking Spanish wasn't cool and that it made me different than everyone else. As I got older and noticed more differences between myself and my peers, I tried to get rid of or hide any part of me that was different. Which unfortunately meant that I worked hard to keep my ethnic background a secret.
In middle school, there were many more latin kids. I began to form my own stereo-types about what it meant to be latino, thus adding to the list of things that I distanced myself from. I actually stopped wearing anything black in middle school and throughout high school because I associated wearing black with the 'bad kids', who sadly were often the latinos in my eyes.
They were the trouble makers, they were those who did poorly in school, they were never going to 'make-it' and I wanted nothing to do with them.
So I worked hard to distinguish myself from them and to prove that I wasn't really one of them.
When I was 8 or so, my parents divorced. Before the divorce my family wasn't rich by any definition, but we definitely were stable and I don't remember worrying about money. But after the divorce, we struggled. Living on a single parent income isn't easy period. Living on a single parent income when that parent doesn't have a degree just adds to the difficulty. Even though my mom always encouraged us to finish our education, she did so more than ever, so that we could grow up and have a better life than she did. In a lot of ways, failure has never been an option. And not because my parents put a lot of pressure on me, but because I personally felt how hard life can be when you don't have a college degree.
I was always a good student and I often took pride in the fact that I was a 'smart' latino.
In many ways it helped me feel more "white", which I thought made me a better person. It wasn't until I served an LDS mission in Peru that I learned how to appreciate my heritage. After I got back home, I was finally able to face my own feelings of self-doubt and general dislike of my ancestry.
Part two to come...
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