#hispanic identity

[peachcitt]

something ive thought about a lot. even though i know no ethnic experience is the same, i always find myself struggling with thoughts like this, so i decided to make a vent comic about it

image id under the cut!

[image id: a grayscale comic. 

the words ‘I am hispanic’ are written in white above a scribbled-in silhouette of a person. below that, there are five more scribbled-in people; the three on the left are gray, the one in the middle is white, and the one on the left is also gray. the words ‘my grandparents on my mother’s side emmigrated from Mexico. I’m not sure about my father’s parents’ are written beside the people.

the words ‘the line of my heritage is filled with people of color’ are below that, and they are overlapping with a large gray crowd of scribbled-in stick figures in a triangle shape that points to the words ‘And yet’

the words ‘I feel distant from them’ are below the crowd of people and to the left of a singular white scribbled-in silhouette. the sentence continues in the right of the figure with ‘from my culture’ and then below the figure with ‘from my family.’

the next image shows the side profile of a person with two piercing holes and hair that just barely touches their collarbone. their mouth is open, and there is a speech bubble to the right of them that reads ‘I don’t even know how to speak Spanish.’

underneath that, the words ‘My mother says she tried to teach my siblings and I when we were young,’ are written with four silhouettes in ascending height - shortest on the left and tallest on the right - below that. the shortest silhouette is colored white while the rest are gray. the sentence continues below the silhouettes with the words ‘but we didn’t want to learn.’

below that, the words ‘I know I’m not white’ are written largely and are encased in a bubble of scribbles.

in the next image, the words ‘But the stereotype of the hispanic family -’ are written above five gray gingerbread-looking people, all connected by the arms and all smiling. the words ‘close and tight-knit and full of frequent and bright gatherings-’ are written above an identical set of five gray people. below the gingerbread people, the sentence finishes with ‘has never been my family.’

below that, there is a gray retro dial-up phone with the phone off the receiver to the left of the white words ‘I barely even speak with my extended family.’

the words ‘my grandparents died before I could speak to them in their tongue’ are written below that and to the right of a bouquet of roses and daisies that look as though they are falling flowers-first to the ground.

the next image shows the words ‘I know I’m not white’ are written again, encased in a bubble of scribbles.

below that, a hand and part of a forearm is drawn with the words ‘but my skin is pale’ on the right. a pair of lips with the top lip colored in white with a speech bubble are below those words. the speech bubble is below the hand, and it reads ‘and my tongue is  foreign to that of my ancestors’

underneath that, there are two scribbled-in silhouettes. one is white and small, and the other is gray and looming over the white one. the words ‘a hispanic friend once related to me some of her struggles.’ are to the right of the looming gray figure. next to the small white figure are the words ‘I tried to empathize,’ with the sentence finishing beneath both figures with ‘but she told me I wouldn’t get it.’

the next image shows a single scribbled-in white figure in the middle of the words ‘I wasn’t hispanic enough for her’ and the words ‘i guess’ beneath it.

the words ‘I know I’m not white’ are written below that, again encased in a bubble of scribbles.

beneath the bubble of scribbles, ‘but am I hispanic enough?’ are written.

underneath those words, a single white scribble figure is drawn upside down, a gray cartoon heart that is half-scribbled on in white is drawn on the left side of their chest. the heart is ‘bleeding’ gray droplets that make a puddle to the right of the figure’s head. the words ‘I have no relationship with my family’ are written on the left of the figure, with the sentence continue on the right with ‘ i have pale skin’ and to left again with ‘i don’t even know Spanish.’ In the gray puddle, the words ‘I am a foreigner born in hispanic blood’ is written in black.

the comic ends with the words ‘I don’t even know how to speak Spanish’ written in white. 

end image id]

[gatatv]

Bilingual Podcast: Latinidad con la Gata Episode 1: Afro Latina or Latina? (English)

[pewresearch]

Is speaking Spanish necessary to be Hispanic? Most Hispanics say no

[pwilf187-blog]

A Pew Hispanic Center report based on a new nationwide survey of Latino youths and on analyses of government data examines the values, attitudes, experiences and self-identity of this generation as it comes of age in America.

“Latinos believe in the rewards of hard work. More than eight-in-ten—including 80% of Latino youths and 86% of Latinos ages 26 and older—say that most people can get ahead in life if they work hard.” (Pew Research Center)

I chose this quote above because it supports my findings within my interviews and how looking good makes one feel better about themselves. In relation to the quote in which Rosendo Medina makes in that many Latinos still feel inferior to Americans and one way they rebel against this feeling is by dressing nicely and looking good overall. It becomes a way in which those still along the poverty level can feel successful and remind them that working hard will allow them to achieve their own personal goals.

This study conducted by the Pew Research Center is a means to show statistics of Latin American children and their certain attitudes and other statistics ranging from demographics to what country they identify with, their country of origin or their newly settled one. 

[profanityproblem]

People have asked me why it is that I identify racially as Hispanic when I'm half white and half Dominican.

They're confused. That isn't how I identify ethnically. I grew up with my mother, who is white, and therefore lived in an ethnic group that was just about all things Southern white. But they don't understand why that doesn't extend to where I mark on sheets what race I am. I fill in Hispanic. Why is that?

Simple. Because I have never been treated with white privilege. 

Sure, people have told me that I could pass as white from time to time; I've been told I don't look Hispanic or anything else but white. It changes based on which group I'm in. If I'm with mostly white people, I'm told I look mixed, or I get asked if I'm Mexican. If I'm with people who are Latino or Hispanic, I get asked if I'm white (though again, Mexican is the most common guess). Put me in either group alone, and I stand out.

But here's the thing: if I go to a restaurant that specializes in Latin or Hispanic cuisine, I will be addressed and spoken to in Spanish first before English, even though English is my first language. If I go to the bodega by my house (that's like a little 7/11 or CVS), the cashier gives me my total in Spanish and asks if I need anything in Spanish.

On the other hand, if I go to the Publix near my house where predominately white people shop, I will be watched. If I go visit a friend in North Georgia in her small town where mostly white people live, I will be watched with suspicion and treated as if I'm ignorant. 

When I was nine or ten, my mom took me over to one of her friend's houses for a get-together. There were other kids from about my age to the oldest boy and girl, who were around 15 or 16. There were maybe ten of us. I was the only one who wasn't white. The people had a huge front yard, and because it was summer and it was dark, we decided to play hide-and-go-seek-tag. Now the youngest son of my mom's friends was about my age. He was typical Southern boy white: dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, tan face and freckles on his cheeks and shoulders, straight, square teeth. He got mad when the game was suggested, pointed at me and complained to his older brother (who was the oldest at 16) that he didn't want to play with me.

I'll never forget what he said. 

He said, "I don't want to play with a little brown girl."

Everyone around me froze. I didn't know what to do, or what to say or if I could breathe. I didn't know what racism was then, and sure I'd noted that most of the kids of my mom's friends didn't look like me, but that had never bothered me. 

But once he said that, I knew it was bad. I had never considered my darker skin to be something to be ashamed of, something to be fixed or something so inherently wrong as to cause others discomfort. 

I began to cry for reasons I didn't understand at the time, and I ran into the house and told my mother, who was socializing with all the other adults, what he'd said. The room, much like the kids outside, went dead silent. Again, I thought I had done something wrong. I thought that my telling them what had happened was the wrong thing to do. And then the boy's parents and my mom and a few other parents stormed outside and brought the boy in and made him apologize and asked him what the hell he was thinking. His father apologized to my mother and told her he didn't know where he'd heard something like that, because they certainly didn't tolerate that in their home. I have no idea if he was lying or not, but after that day, I stopped expecting to be treated like anyone else.

I started looking for the signs when people would treat me like I was ignorant or when they meant to treat me unjustly. 

I got a ticket for running a red light about a year ago, and the officer was white. Now, that may not matter in other counties of Georgia (for any international followers I may have, counties are just smaller provinces or towns in the state), but in the one where I live, majority of the force is white, and they are extremely prejudiced and racist. The cop came up to the window, took my license and registration, wrote me the ticket, and sent me on my way. It wasn't until I looked at the details so I could pay it off online that I realized something was wrong: the officer had put my race down as Black. 

Not Hispanic.

Not Latino.

But Black. 

The fact that he had marked anything but what I am (even though it's stated clearly on my license: HIS), was wrong. But Black? I could never in a million years, even at my most tan and dark, pass as Black. I just can't. Yet that was what he marked. Because it was obvious that I was Not White. 

That is why I will never identify as Caucasian. It is why I will be sexualized as some kind of exotic flower. It is why prejudiced white people, and prejudiced white men especially, will treat me as if I cannot speak English or like I'm ignorant and speak down to me. It is why Hispanic and Latino men will think that they can order me around and treat me badly and think that I will take it. 

I identify as Hispanic because the world will never let me forget it, so I might as well own it. I am not ashamed of being Hispanic. I am proud of my heritage and my history, and I will not be ashamed of the color of my skin, nor where I come from, nor my ancestry. 

But that is why I identify as Hispanic. 

[thoushaltnotwearpants]

“You look so exotic”  “I’m Hispanic”  “Oh…” 

You’re Jewish?

 She’s Jewish

 She looks Jewish

Our lives…

I guess assimilation is not for us

On the bright size with mugs like this we will never be white trash

 We are doomed to a life of disappointing people. And ourselves.

[legalaliensss]

The Virginia Center for Latin American Art's Kickstarter Campaign is a project to help convert a school bus into a mobile art gallery.  Why do they want to do this? To bring Latin American art and art experiences to communities throughout the state. They're going to fill their bus with great Latin American art made by everyone from young children from the community to emerging Latino artists asking questions never imagined before. They're also going to fill that bus with spectacular people who love community and believe in the power of art to change lives. They're going to drive their bus out to community centers, apartment complexes, shopping centers,  flea markets, trailer parks, wherever there's a group of people with no means of experiencing art. They are going to take art to wherever the Latino population is strong and the resources tight!  If you would like to back this project follow this link:  http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/vaclaa/the-vaclaa-voyage-turn-our-school-bus-into-an-art

[legalaliensss]

I just

got an internship with the Virginia Center for Latin American Art. I am so excited to start working with them and to be involved in something I'm passionate about.