Jacqueline Tenreiro
Sixth grade. Health class. The setting of many an adolescent discovery.
We were filling out a questionnaire regarding a topic I can no longer recall, quickly and absentmindedly coloring circles in an effort for early dismissal. I was plugging along with the rest until one question had me falter, unsure.
Mark your race, it said.
After a minute’s hesitation, I colored in the “white” circle. A couple seconds later, I penciled in a set of parentheses, and between them, the word “tan.”
It was the best that a 12-year-old me could do in way of understanding something that would challenge me persistently for years to come. It does especially today.
Whether it’s the pervasive instances of black lives lost, the seemingly increasing displays of prejudice that plague our nation’s universities, or even the debate nights that see our politicians arguing amongst themselves over issues of immigration or refugee opportunity — race has unarguably come to the forefront of our national conversation.
All the while, I observe this through the lens of someone who doesn’t quite know to which side of the back-and-forth she belongs. I’m Latina, but with each instance I share the fact, I’m compelled to follow up with, “Well, technically.”
And that is because nobody else thinks I am.
Growing up in Westchester, New York, where my small town’s population is 90 percent white residents, I certainly didn’t understand the context of my own diversity. I could pick up on little things: other kids didn’t call their family members tio or tia, Spanish Rs didn’t roll off their tongues like they did mine and I was always praised for my olive skin, the kind of tan you couldn’t get from a day at the beach.
I was that much different from everybody else, but I reveled in it.
I was in touch with my own culture in a way that none of my classmates were, and the gratification of sharing and exploring it was something I knew I wanted to pursue. So in the following years of organization offerings and high school clubs, I did.
I’ve traveled the country for minority student-focused leadership conferences, have spoken before boards of education about equal opportunity and conducted statistical research that examines the influence of racial stereotyping on standardized test scores.
So you might imagine my surprise when people suggest I checked the Hispanic box just so I could get into college.
It seems as though a Hispanic identity is reserved for those who have triumphed through adversity, faced personal prejudice or directly understood the plight of the misrepresented minority. Ironically enough, a stigma persists where the very individuals who contribute to our nation’s diversity are, among themselves, all the same. I’ll be frank — I don’t know those kind of experiences, and the ones I do know don’t match the common perception of a student of color.
But to assume that I should have to be a first-generation college student, only speak Spanish at home or not belong to a sorority to fit into that mold is nothing short of counter-progressive.
My parents went to medical school. We speak English, peppered with Spanish phrases and my mother’s attempts at teaching us French. I always felt as though I belonged in my Greek organization. I’ve never had a racially prejudiced comment or action directed at me, and I don’t know what it feels like to be discriminated against simply because of who I am or where I come from.
Of course, I’m not ignorant to my own privilege. But what I don’t understand is why my experience somehow lessens my status as a minority and renders me “white girl” in the eyes of others.
A few weeks ago, a group I belong to was referred to as “all white.” I didn’t make the correction, because I didn’t feel as though it was entirely wrong.
I’ve come to accept the notion of being culturally white. I struggled to continue identifying as Hispanic with knowledge that only I saw myself as such. It felt as though I were doing an entire group a great injustice — bestowing a label upon myself without really deserving it, or knowing the struggle behind it that so many others do.
Yet, a sense of racial ambiguity is a unique challenge in itself. It’s an easy question that I can’t muster up an answer to. If I say white, I’m lying. If I say Hispanic, I’m misrepresenting myself.
And so the difficulty to find my position in the grand scope of the conversation on race is only magnified. I don’t know if my life experience is white privilege, or if my perspective gives me any right to comment on racism issues that persist in this country.
So, often, I keep quiet in the conversation. I’m left out because my diversity doesn’t look the same as everybody else’s. But my experience is every bit as rich and important as that of another Hispanic person.
Even if my survey answers don’t say it is.
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3 Comments
Have you ever wondered why we tend to associate race with skin color? I think it’s because skin is something we can never take off or change, unless your name is Michael Jackson. Race is not like pieces of clothing that we may decide to wear one day and leave in the closet on another. It is always with us and we are always with it.
This is why I believe that race does not admit the modifier “technically”. The beauty in all of this, I believe, is that it means that nobody can ever take away how authentic one’s feelings, experiences, and opinions are in regards to one’s race.
Each of the facts that you speak English at home, feel like you belong to your Greek Organization, and that you are not a first-generation college student take nothing away from you being Hispanic. Nothing can. I believe that the effect is the exact opposite; it adds and expands on what it means to be Hispanic.
It is a living proof showing that any person who automatically assumes certain things are true about you based solely on your race has adopted a limited understanding of your race. Such a person may have the same race as the person they are making the assumptions about.
Maybe you feel that correcting the person referring to your group as “all white” is not your job or that you are not in a position to be the one correcting that person. That is justified. However, I believe that if you were to correct that person and point out that you are actually not white, it would bring you great feelings of reward and confidence in your identity. I have had similar situations where people wrongfully assume I am from a certain country or that I follow a certain religion. I almost always correct them. I am proud of who I am as a person, my parents and their contribution to my development, and the cultural lessons that were, directly or indirectly, passed down to me. I wouldn’t like to see any of that mistaken for something other than what it is.
I have benefited from opportunities that were not available to all the people I know. Some of those opportunities might be more easily accessible to people from a certain race. That does not mean that I have benefited from (insert race)-privilege. Every person from every race has enjoyed some opportunities unique to that person. Those opportunities might not all be associated with advancing a person’s career or economic status; they can be associated with advancing a person thoughts, beliefs, and value-system. The fact that my set of opportunities were atypical does not mean that I cannot identify with the people that I share a plethora of similarities with when it comes to history, traditions, language, food, music, and many other facets of life. Some people might seek to more than identify with their racial group. People might want to expand the set of typical opportunities for their race and I believe that it is those with the atypical set of opportunities that are more capable of accomplishing such changes.
I think sports provide a great analogy that could clarify what I am trying to say. Let’s take the US women’s soccer team as an example. Each person on the team has as a unique and atypical set of opportunities (talent is an opportunity) that they use to accomplish certain goals. They might aim to change facts about the the teams’s number of championships won, the number of openly out players on the team, or the role of women in professional sports or society. These women might not share the same life, background or history with many of the people that they represent, but they expand and contribute to what it means to be a member of that team, and what is it means to be a woman, an athlete, a mother, a member of the LQBT community, and so many other groups. They don’t have to feel the struggles or pains of the typical set of people from any one of those affected groups but they can still proudly belong to them.
You said that you saw yourself as Hispanic. No ambiguity. No modifiers. Nothing you do, say, or not say, will make you less Hispanic. Like your olive skin, your Hispanic identity is not something you can just leave in the closet. It is always a part of you and you are always a part of it, even if it looks differently on you.
You said this perfectly. And minimizing your ethnicity is in fact a huge insult to the Latin American community.
Check the box next to BEAUTIFUL.