Power of cultural identity, or lack thereof: Through the multicultural lens
As Hispanic Heritage Month comes to a close, Latinas still navigate and wear their identity the other eleven months out of the year — including the multicultural ones.
“Where are you from?” Ah, the dreaded four words every multiethnic or person hates being asked. This question warrants one of three types of responses: a confused one, a sarcastic one, or a semi-liberated one. The answer we choose to go with likely depends on where we are in life, and how strong our foundation of cultural celebration and education is.
Let’s start with the confused one.
At the start of every school year, without fail, multiethnic and multicultural children are prompted with this question, or worse — “What are you?” They are asked to identify who they are, while they are still trying to figure out that very thing for themselves.
Growing up, when asked some variation of this question, I usually resorted to spilling my parents’ ethnicities. “I’m half Italian and half Colombian,” I’d share from the strange comfort of my assigned class seat. “You’re Colombian? Then why are you so white?” they would respond.
Then I’d begin down the rabbit hole of questioning who I am:
- Am I Spanish enough? Am I more one nationality than the other?
- Why don’t we speak Spanish or Italian at home?
- What race do I select on this survey? (I’m still trying to figure this one out)
These questions and many more were carried with me from the classroom, to my home, and from one relative’s house to the next as I visited both sides of my family. All the while, my parents carried on obliviously — so I thought. Why wouldn’t they? They came from parents of the same nationality.
One day, while leaving my (Colombian) grandmother’s apartment, my dad asked me, “If anyone asks you what you are, you know what to tell them, right?” Internally, I’m desperately yelling for him to tell me the answer to this million-dollar question I’ve been wondering all along. Instead I reply with an earnest, yet questionable, “No.” He exclaimed, “You’re a mutt!” A wutt?
Fast forward to what was likely a twenty minute rant, my dad had given me one of my first lectures on what it meant to embrace your heritage. He also expanded on my Arabic last name, how it’s pronounced in English, Spanish and Arabic, and how his great-great grandparents immigrated to Colombia from Spain and Lebanon. The major teaching I remember from it?
“Don’t let anyone tell you who you are. You tell them.”
Enter, the second warranted response — the sarcastic one.
Introducing, adolescent Dominique. At some point around high school, I’m feeling a little more comfortable in my skin. I still don’t quite fit in with the white girls, or the “Spanish” girls (more on this later) and I obviously don’t fit in with the Black or Asian girls either. Yet I’m still making friends — with a set of girlfriends that each share their own diverse and mixed backgrounds.
It’s worth noting that I went to high school in Manhattan. As a commuter school, we had students from all five boroughs, and all races. So naturally when I was asked that oh-so-cringey question, “Where are you from?” I’d respond with, “Oh, like which borough, or what do you mean?” I’d wait for them to stumble over their words while they mustered up some ability to explain that they meant to ask “what country” I’m from, or they’d begin to go down the list of all five European nations their teenage brain could think of.
One of my best friends guessed my ethnic background almost immediately upon meeting. As someone who she herself is biracial, she knew there was more than what met my green, glass framed eyes. In addition to high school “norms,” we empathized with one another over racial disparities we’ve experienced within our families and outside of it, contributing to our shared bond.
Navigating this question time and time again, I found my answers to be inconsistent as my definitions of what it meant to be mixed, evolved. To add to the confusion, terms like “Spanish,” “Hispanic” “Latin” “Caucasian” “Gringa” were being tossed around, and I didn’t feel like I was any of them. (In my article, “A Latinx? What’s that?” I define ten top terms our Latino communities use to identify with.)
I still struggled on selecting a “race” or “ethnicity” when prompted to do so on DOE surveys, college questionnaires, or medical and job applications. Even though coming from different backgrounds has its confusions, not fitting in was one of the best things that I could have experienced.
Fade scene to the college years.
It’s not “normal” to be mixed — it’s “retro”
I remember being at a Labor Day block party in Long Beach, Long Island with my cousin and some of her friends. For those of you that are unfamiliar with the area, it’s a predominately white, young, middle to upper class, right-leaning, beach town. We were assembling for a group picture when one girl asked me, “Omg! How do you get your hair like that? It’s so … retro!” At that moment, I wanted to recite the Serenity Prayer for being granted the courage NOT to (verbally) knock this girl out. I had been told my whole life that my hair was “so curly,” “too frizzy,” “so long,” “too thick,” — and now I’ve begrudgingly added “so retro” to the list. What does that even mean?
Curly hair, multiracial, multicultural and BIPOC people have been fetishized, and exoticized for centuries. In the article, “Our True Face: Latina women are exoticized and unfairly portrayed in the media,” Daily Free Press’ author, Maria Jimenez Moya, explains how Latinas are hyper-sexualized for everything — from our hair, to our bodies, to our style, right down to our language.
Needless to say, but for some probably necessary, I let her know I don’t “do” anything to my hair. I moisturize, air dry, and thank my parents for these dirty blonde curls (or waves depending on the day).
As Stephanie Georgopulos says in her essay, “Coming Out as Biracial,”
“I grew up in a culturally diverse environment, which meant I missed the memo that it’s ‘not normal’ to be mixed.”
Over the years, I’ve become less and less tolerable of allowing others to try and place me into a box that made them feel comfortable, or reinforced the image of who they believed I am.
I present, the semi-liberated response.
Our president is Barack Obama, and Donald Trump isn’t in the race for the highest ranking political position in the United States. I overhear someone talking about Obama: “Yeah, he’s Black. But he came out of a white pussy, so he’s basically white.” Um, excuse me? Is this the thought process of most white Americans?
No, that’s the thought process of people who are culturally ignorant, don’t understand what it means to be biracial, feel they have the privilege and credibility to denote someones identity, and are in denial that we have had a Black president.
This belief on how someone could be “basically white” has made me reflect onto my own family. During a recent conversation with one of my aunts around police brutality (who has tri-racial children), she shared that she sometimes “forgets” about my Latina side. How convenient. I don’t have the “luxury” to forget who I am, nor do I ever want to. This sparked the question on whether she teaches her children to embrace their Asian and Black heritage from their paternal side. “Well, that’s their father’s job,” she defensively responded. We disagreed on why her role as a parent is equally as important when it comes to teaching my cousins about all parts of their heritage. Though she did admit they are naturally starting to question their identity and call out social injustices when they see them.
My cousins are tweens and like most, are keeping up with social media. So it was no surprise when they started vocalizing their own opinions on the #BlackLivesMatter movement, the murders of Black men and women by police officers, and calling out our family for not having open and honest dialogues at home. Kids absorb everything. Their brains are like sponges. If they are old enough to experience racism, then they are old enough to learn about how to be anti-racist.
I come from a family where all of my aunts and uncles married outside of their nationality and are all bilingual. My family is not only diverse when it comes down to race, but also in religious and political beliefs, socioeconomic status, and sexual orientation. But because of this very reason, it’s been deemed controversial to take a stance on any issue — let alone the impending Election, police brutality, mass incarceration, and why Black lives matter, too.
So when I began initiating some of these conversations in intimate groups, the pushback was unrivaled. I’ve learned that those who sit on the sidelines have already decided that racism isn’t a dealbreaker, and I would not accompany them on the bleachers. This only ignited a force in me to take a stance to demand social justice, and commit to becoming a better ally for BIPOC communities. During this process, I’ve only recently felt more empowered to embrace my own identity.
I’m a white, Latina 100% of the time.
While my younger self may have hesitated on wearing my skin, or embracing my roots, I remind myself that I cannot take it off, and I will not cut my ties. In her Cosmopolitan story, “I Finally Understand What It Means to Be Biracial: I’m 100% Black and 100% Latina” Sydney Johnson expresses why being multiracial has its gifts.
“Biracial people are blessed with the ability to fluidly transcend narrow ideas about race.”
In a conversation with her, she also reinforces that we all have a role to play in voicing our own stories. “It’s so important to remember Latinx people aren’t all the same, and as Hispanic Heritage Month celebrates us, we need to make sure to celebrates us all, everyday.” In a world that’s saturated with information, yet still lacking so much, we deserve to be recognized for who we are, but also our differences. “Biracial or mixed Latinx individuals are still part of the Latinx story, which is often beautiful and complex. We are not all the same and our differences unite us because they prove our complexity,” she emphasized.
Introducing cultural traditions to children to foster self-identity
While Sydney and I agree we still sometimes struggle with not feeling “Latina” enough, we embrace our culture and heritage whenever we can. Today, I value opportunities to connect with my younger brother even more, and help him navigate similar experiences I’ve been forced to confront. While there’s no right path, having challenging conversations and getting comfortable with the uncomfortable, is a good place to start.
If you’re a family of mixed races, ethnicities and backgrounds, it’s important to introduce cultural traditions of the multiracial child’s ancestry and their parents’ heritage. Early exposure of one’s culture provides a level of understanding, reception and acceptance that often serves as the building blocks of self identity.
As a child, my parents didn’t actively teach me their languages. My dad speaks English and Spanish fluently, but my mom speaks both, and her native language, Italian, fluently. Instead, I spent a significant amount of time with my Italian grandparents who didn’t speak any English, so I naturally begin to pick it up. Though I cannot speak it well, I can have a broken conversation with Italian speakers, and understand them even better. On the other hand, when my parents would want to hide certain conversations from me, they both spoke in Spanish. This, combined with visiting my Colombian grandmother and learning it in school, I was able to learn the language and speak it fluently — though it wasn’t until my teenage years.
The absence of culture can be compensated for when older, but its weight cannot be replaced. Southwest Human Development confirms that a cultural foundation at home contributes to a positive self-image and “helps children to create a diverse social network while transitioning into adulthood.”
Here are just five ways they suggest to introduce and engage children with their heritage:
- Teaching your native language
2. Celebrate holidays and traditions
3. Mix it up in the kitchen and teach about native ingredients
4. Share stories of family history
5. Explore new cultures together
While there are many suggestions and opportunities on introducing children to their heritage and cultural backgrounds, more importantly, they promote promote cultural awareness and respect. PBS reinforces that no activity is as powerful as the role model of a child’s parent(s).
“Children become culturally sensitive and respectful when they see adults who are culturally sensitive and respectful, and who take a stand against bias, racism or insensitivity.”
They also provide resources on why and how to talk to your child about racism, how to explain what “race” means, the importance of seeing race, emotional awareness, and books on how to celebrate Hispanic Heritage Month.
To those that are generalizing communities because of who you believe they are, stop. No one owes you an explanation on why they identify the way they do.
To those that are fighting to be heard, you’re not alone. Don’t allow someone’s perception of who you are dictate your own self-identity. Foster your own journey, and embrace who you are.
