Define Yourself
I was about 9 or 10 year old. I was so upset at my family I didn’t talk to them for a day or two. As I sat on my bed crying my eyes out, I was thinking about why they kept calling me that. My eyes got so swollen from the crying and my nose was so clogged; I looked so ridiculous thinking about it a decade later.
As one grows up with siblings, you expect to be picked on by them. Name calling and fights seemed to be the norm when I was growing up with my four siblings. We usually didn’t let the name calling get to us so much. I was really great at that. However, one of the names that hurt the most was being called a “white boy.” My siblings would always call me that because I was the palest among them. I also couldn’t speak Spanish if my life depended on it. For some reason, I always hated being called that. I knew I was Mexican and didn’t want to be referred to as “white.”
I am a third generation Mexican-American. My maternal grandparents were born in Mexico and speak little English. My mother was born in Los Angeles and speaks Spanish fluently. My aunt and uncle are fluent in Spanish as well. My two older sisters speak Spanish. I have two cousins that also speak Spanish. As you can see, everyone in my family can speak Spanish. Then there’s me who can’t speak Spanish besides the most basic words. I even took three years of Spanish classes in high school and still can’t have a full conversation.
Sometimes I feel embarrassed that I don’t know Spanish. My mother never gave me an explanation on why she didn’t teach me Spanish. I really wished I learned it young. I remember a time when I was attending a Spanish-speaking church and couldn’t understand anything. I felt like aliens were talking gibberish to me. When a teacher asked me how old I was, I responded with my name. Throughout grammar and middle school, everyone thought I was white. On the playground or the classroom, I was asked what race I was. There were times where people were shocked when I said I was Mexican.
In high school, I took three years of Spanish as it was required by my school. I had to start off with the beginners level classes due to not knowing any Spanish at that time. I was really good my first year, however the last two years I had to be helped by my friend who had the same class as me. I would often copy homework off him just to finish my work. As of today, I would rate my Spanish as a four out of ten. I know basic sentences and words.
This struggle of not knowing Spanish has been a dark cloud over my head for as long as I remember. The hardest part of not knowing Spanish is my relationship with my grandparents. They were both born in Mexico and came to the U.S. before my mother was born. My grandfather speaks English better than my grandmother but both are not good at speaking it. Due to my lack of Spanish, it is hard to communicate with them and ask about personal information about themselves. I don’t know where they were born in Mexico, I don’t know how they grew up, I don’t know how they met or how they came to the U.S. My conversations with them are very surface level like how they are and how am I. The language gap between us digs a whole in front of me that I can’t cross. My siblings and cousins that do know Spanish have better relationships with them. It sucks wanting to know more about your grandparents yet can’t communicate with them.
Another aspect I struggle with is my identity in regard to my culture and heritage. Aspects like music, dancing and history are foreign to me. When I do display some sort of culture, I feel people judging me. I don’t know if this is true or not but questions come up in my head. I think people are calling me a “white-washed Mexican” or that I am not Mexican enough.
I have tried to learn more Spanish, thanks to my girlfriend. She is Mexican and Salvadorian and knows Spanish very well. When we first started dating, her mission was for me to learn more Spanish. I knew I was a lost cause and never really took it seriously. After many attempts, she finally gave up but suggested I get Duolingo, a language-learning app. I thought it was very silly at first because it seemed like an app for children. However after spending hours on it, I really came to enjoy it. I learned so many new words and started to understand people speaking Spanish a little more.
Despite feeling embarrassed and left out, I now understand some privileges that come with my identity. I have never experienced being berated about speaking Spanish in public. I have never experienced being laughed at because my broken English. I have never experienced being profiled or discriminated against because of the color of my skin. These are some of the experiences Latinos and Hispanics go through living their lives. I am grateful for not having experienced these hardships, however I would never let anyone disrespect people based on their heritage and culture.
I haven’t been called a “white boy” since I was young, but it has followed me through adulthood. Even though I can’t speak Spanish or have a limited knowledge of my culture, I am making an effort to learn where I come from. What I have learned throughout my life is that words are just words. You could be called something you despise and it may get to you. However, all that matters is how you see yourself. How others see me does not define who I am. I know who I am. I am Michael Isaac Medina, a proud Mexican-American whose grandparents came to this country to make their lives better.
