Posts Tagged ‘Mexican’

For those in the U.S. who will celebrate Cinco de Mayo today, sharing this seemed appropriate.

This little tune comes from a nice little gal from Minnesota–and/or Oaxaca.  Lila Downs is on the top half of my list of favorite singers.  (A nice American gal of Scottish & Mexican descent, like myself–a killer combo!)

This song is about the preparation of a mole–a dish made by grinding and mixing together many very different ingredients.  One of the best known moles is the mole poblano that comes from Puebla–the site of the famous battle commemorated today, and one of the reasons this song is appropriate for today.

Cinco de Mayo is not Mexican Independence day.  The holiday commemorates a specific military victory–a “mouse that roared” victory.  I am convinced Cinco de Mayo is at least as at least as popular in The United States, as it is in Mexico, which is  ironic considering most Americans are more familiar with Cinco de Mayo, than with celebrations of our own significant military victories–such as Armistice day or VJ Day.

That aside, it is a good day to remember that we are one nation of many peoples.  A mix–or a mole.  This country often roasts and grinds the newly arrived, but eventually they become part of the mix.

Had to back away slowly.
Had to back away from a discussion of Arizona’s latest immigration policy.  The discussion would only fuel resentments, no matter how reasonable either side was.

My former home state has a bill on the table that has become a hot point of controversy.  Intended to give authorities more power to enforce immigration laws, it gives law enforcement the right to use race as a reason to question one’s immigration status.  In essence, it legitimizes racial profiling.

On the one hand it is reasonable.  On the other it is unconscionable. For people of color it is terrifying.

Race is a big issue to me. I think it should be for every American.  The people of our country have come from many nations, but we are one nation and we should not indulge racism in any form. Yet is seems we are never able to get away from race and racial issues.

The matter or race is so confusing, When I fill out forms which require me to check a box for race, I never know which one to choose…I am of mixed European descent, which would make me Caucasian, I am also descended from Mexicans, that would make me Hispanic.  I was born and have lived in this country for my entire life, that would make me American, but there is never a box for that.
If I showed you the results from my DNA test, I could check half the boxes on the form. I might as well close my eyes and chose a box.
I only need the box for Human Race.

If I can barely determine my own race, I understand why others are afraid to let someone who doesn’t know them try to determine theirs.   Over the years, I’ve been mistaken for many races of which I’m not a member, as have some of my family members.  My brother was nearly run off a road, by someone who mistook him for Middle-Eastern, just after 9-11.  My mother was once treated shamefully bad by someone who assumed she was Navajo, in a town where Navajos are not highly esteemed.

My favorite story in this category is when my mother tried to board one of those buses, we used to have in this country during our own DARK AGES.  You know, the ones where “coloreds” had to sit in the back.  The bus driver couldn’t figure out if she was colored or not, he had to ask her if she was “colored” so he could figure out where she should sit.  Think about that one.
The story amuses me because it illustrates how meaningless skin color is.
Makes me wish I’d been the blackest person ever, right behind her in that line.  I would have told the bus driver I wasn’t “colored” either.  Then I would have proceeded to sit in the seat directly behind him, and in front of all the other  not “colored” people.

Incidents like those above provide illustration why a bill that makes one’s appearance, “just-cause” for being questioned or detained, can’t avoid going wrong.

Fortunately, even having grown up in mostly-white Arizona, I’ve rarely been subjected to prejudice, but I’ve seen enough to know, the ignorance of pre-judging people based on assumptions, is always unfortunate.

I don’t want to live in any state or country that limits me for any reason.  If I did, I could have left the U.S. for any of many countries, where being the wrong race, the wrong religion or the wrong gender would strip me of opportunity.  If I did want that, it would be hard, there are so many to choose from.  Nor do I want to live in a country with real racial hatred or genocide, but there are many of those to choose from too.

Makes me wonder about the people who see policies like this one to be emblematic of America’s racism.  I wonder if they’ve ever left their cloisters to see what the real world is really like.  I wonder if they realize that this country is like an overindulgent parent, in what it is willing to provide each and every person who lives here.

This is particularly true now.  Our president is advocating for blanket amnesty for all the people who have come to this country illegally.  To many living in this country illegally, he is a benevolent savior, though it is doubtful that their well-being is his motivation.  It would be great to give a free pass to all the wonderful & hard working people who have come here for the same reasons your immigrant family may have, but doing so would also be giving citizenship to many who have come here with agendas that nobody can embrace.  Living in an area where many non-citizens are connected  to organized crime or drug cartels, I get this.

Do I want my my Mexican girlfriend’s family to be able to escape the crime and poverty of her barrio in Tijuana, so that she can raise her son with the same kind of safety and opportunity my son takes for granted?  Absolutely!  Do I want kidnappers, car-jackers, drug dealers, sex traffickers and the kind of neighbors who have automatic weapons in their cars in case something goes down?  Not so much.   Under the blanket of amnesty, they are one and the same–just non-citizens living and making a living here–but they are not the same at all.

I would love to share my stance on immigration, but the truth is I can’t take one.  There are two sides.  They are both valid.  Economically, this great country doesn’t have enough teats to feed the whole world.  That’s not racism, that’s simple math.  Many of our state governments are economically collapsing.  As ridiculous as an adolescent who had never been weaned from his mother’s breast, many of our citizens have become economically stunted by being attached to the teats too long.

They have grown dependent & unable to care for themselves.  The land of milk & honey WILL run out of milk, if we cannot enforce our own immigration laws or if we allow people to live without being responsible for their choices.  This bill may be all kinds of wrong, but the ability to control who lives and works here is important to the welfare of all.  Uncontrolled immigration will decrease  economic opportunity for those who deserve it.  Giving criminals the same rights as decent folks, will increase crime and decrease safety.  Preventing ourselves from being able to enforce our own laws will result in the kind of lawlessness that many have come here to escape.

It is not a simple issue.  Only the simple-minded think it is.

My skin is brown.  Some people would call me mixed-race.  Mixed-race?   That meaningless term makes me cringe.  In this country a person of mixed ethnicity is an American.  Mixed race??!!??  A triathlon is a mixed race.

I am  SO proud of my ethnic roots, but I’m just another citizen of the world.  My race is, now and has almost always been, a non-issue to me.  However, every now and then my race has been an issue to someone.

Having brown skin gives me an “in” most white people don’t have.  In discussions of race, I’m an insider.  This gives me a special clearance.  I’m allowed to say things that white people are afraid to say.  Next week, I’ll share views on racism, today I’m sharing experience.

Recently, I was talking to a friend who was in terrible pain over a break-up.  His despair had turned him inside out.  I searched for  consoling words.  As he bared his injured heart, it caused me remember a break-up from my past.

I was in college when I fell in love with a nice guy.  I assume he had a soft spot in his head for brown-skinned girls, because his previous girlfriend was one.  That summer, things got serious.  He started dropping hints about us having a future together.  He asked me to travel to Colorado, to meet his parents.  Just before the trip, we walked through the mall, looking at rings–engagement rings.

A couple of days later, we were Colorado-bound.  We spent a week with his folks.  They had a beautiful summer cabin near Pike’s Peak.  They seemed to be lovely, decent people.  They were affluent, but humble and easy going.

There have been times when I felt that somebody’s mother was disapproving, but this time, I felt accepted.  His mother had some paralysis and required assistance with many tasks.  I got to know her well, as I helped her dress and comb her hair each morning.   We got along well.

By my thinking, the the trip was a success.

Right after our return, my would-be fiance said we needed to talk.  As we sat on the couch, he explained his mother didn’t want him to marry a Mexican.  She had told him that if he were to marry me, her grandchildren would be {gasp} minorities.   That was it.  It was over.

My skin was browner that day, than it’s been before or since.  That day I was too brown to be loved.   I was too brown to marry.  I was too  brown to be good enough.  I was just too brown.

Everything was amplified.  I felt browner.

The browner I felt, the smaller they looked.

It took me a long time to get over that–a very long time.  It was painful.  My brown skin and everything inside it hurt.
In my head, I heard the message, “not good enough”.

Not good enough . . not good enough . . not good enough . . not good enough . . . .

I got it.  Damn right!   I really got it.

They weren’t good enough for  me.

It’s never felt better to be brown, than when I realized my skin color saved me from having branches on that family tree.  Thank God, the world doesn’t need any more of “their kind“.