I feel like I’ve touched upon this subject a little bit when I was writing the article on how relatable the movie Coco was but I think it’s important to go a little more in-depth about my experience growing up as Latina and Hispanic in the United States.
There are two things that I’d like to clarify. Although it’s socially acceptable to use the word “America” to refer to the United States, I find that this term is a little arrogant to use when referring to just one country. We are the United States of America. “Of” is the keyword here. America refers to the continent. Canadians are also American because Canada is in America, the continent. Mexicans are also American because Mexico is in America, the continent. The Caribbean Islands are also considered a region in North America just east of Central America. All countries in South America are also American. I am 100% American. My heritage is in Ecuador and Puerto Rico, both of which are in America. I don’t care if you decide to use America to refer to the United States because I know what you mean but I will talk about my time growing up in the United States, not the Americas (which would include my time in Ecuador and Puerto Rico).
Another thing that I’d like to clarify is the distinction between Latinx and Hispanic. People that are Hispanic are people who descend from Spanish-speaking countries. This includes Spain, South America, Mexico, some of the Caribbean Islands (Puerto Rico) and some of the Central American countries (El Salvador, Honduras, Costa Rica, Guatemala, etc.). Ecuador and Puerto Rico are Spanish-speaking countries. I am Hispanic.
Latinx refers to people who descend from Latin America. Latin America includes Mexico, the Caribbean Islands, Central America and South America. Spain is not included. People from Spain are not Latinx. Brazil is in Latin America. They speak Portuguese which means they are not Hispanic but they are technically Latinx if they choose to use the term. Ecuador and Puerto Rico are in Latin America. I am Latina.
I use both to identify myself. Since Spanish is a male-dominated language that makes everything masculine and feminine, Latinx is a step towards gender inclusivity but that’s a completely different issue. The point is, I’m a Latinx who identifies as Latina and Hispanic in the United States.
I grew up in New York City, which is one of the most liberal places in the country. It’s known as the melting pot of the world, and I was constantly surrounded by different people. I saw different lifestyles, new faces, smelled new food, watched new arguments, old arguments, first loves, heartbreaks and more in the span of one avenue. I feel really lucky to have grown up there but that doesn’t necessarily mean that I was completely exempt from microagressions in my community.
I lived in a European community in Queens and went to an all-white school until I was 13. Now, I think that I’m pretty involved in my culture. I eat Spanish food, listen to music in Spanish, speak Spanish, watch telenovelas and spend a lot of time around my family in the Northeast. Honestly, I didn’t look very different from my classmates except for huge curly hair. I thought that we were all the same. We went to the same school, wore the same clothes, had the same teachers and learned the same things.
It wasn’t until I got older that I started noticing a difference. In fact, if I could pinpoint a moment where I really felt different, it would be in the 7th grade, when we first started taking Spanish class. There were 90 students who I’d known since the first grade in my middle school graduating class. 80 of them were Polish, spoke Polish fluently and liked to brag about it to those who didn’t. Polish wasn’t very useful in Spanish class and since I was fluent, people fought over who got to have me at their table in class.
They grew this resentment because of how much easier the beginner’s class was for me. They started calling me Mexican, telling me to eat tacos and go back to where I came from. They shouted curses at me in Polish and put me on the spot a lot in class. They called my hair Mexican (which does not make any sense) and girls would brag about their long, straight hair in the bathrooms. “At least it’s not like Kristina’s. She puts it in that ugly braid every day. It’s always frizzy and looks like rope.” They stuck pens, stickers and shredded paper in my hair until a teacher noticed. I let my mom straighten it every chance I got so I could blend in and ended up getting a relaxer which killed my curls completely.
There was one other girl in a different class section who was Guatemalan. When we were around each other, they stared at us like aliens and asked us to have a conversation in Spanish like we were a fun circus trick. My “friends” at the time thought that I was stupid because I was Hispanic and because I didn’t keep a detailed record of my family history. I’m sorry, Ecuador and Puerto Rico were both colonized by the Spanish. It’s hard to keep track of my ancestry around that time.
In high school, I ended up at LaGuardia Arts, the performing arts high school on the Upper West Side for vocal music. When I ran into other people who were Latinx/Hispanic, we instantly clicked! I always came home to arroz con frijoles y pollo (rice with beans and chicken). Sometimes, my mom would get empanadas for breakfast. I still went to family parties, spoke with aunts and uncles over loud salsa music and ate until my jeans burst.
High school was great. I was much more accepted and it felt like a safe haven whenever I stepped behind those doors just to get yelled at by music teachers. But when the last bell rang at 4pm and my friends and I wandered the city, we still got some resentful looks. Some people in the city are nice and compliment my huge head of hair. Some people tell me to go back to my country when they hear me speaking Spanish to someone on line. Cops pull me over at the train station to search my bag.
Our local news channel NY1 shows stories about Hispanics getting splashed in the face with hot coffee or scolded when they speak Spanish in America. In my senior year, ICE started waiting at train stations to find immigrants as if immigrants all have a singular look. Ever since I’ve left for college, it’s only gotten worse. Some train stations have ladies that sell churros and fruit. Police have started coming to take the carts away stating that it’s illegal to sell in the train stations even though they’ve been selling for years. Recently, ICE went to Ridgewood and drove an armed military vehicle with a gunner through the roof through the town early in the morning.
I’m afraid. It’s disgusting what has been allowed to happen to the Hispanic community in the United States. They’ve been carrying their papers around to prove that they’re citizens. Families are being torn apart. Children are dying at the border.
With everything that’s happened to me, I never once felt ashamed of being Latina/Hispanic. I wear my identity with pride, but it’s scary to walk outside and wonder if someone’s going to yell in my face today or tomorrow. If anything, my experiences have made me want to share my culture. The Hispanic community has been getting such bad representation in the media, I want to help people understand and learn who we really are. In the end, we’re just people.
So, what has growing up in the United States taught me? I am always going to be different and it’s not always going to be easy. It has shaped me into becoming a stronger, more confident person. It’s hard to feel like you can belong when everyone is trying to tell you that you don’t, especially in a political climate that is becoming increasingly hostile towards Hispanics. In spite of this, I am proud of my identity. If anything, I know that soap operas don’t have anything on telenovelas.