NewsTaco

By Elaine Dove

One of my favorite places for “researching” topics that come up in my daily life is my local grocery store. It just so happens that the one closest to me has often been referred to as the “barrio grocery,” which I suppose means that there’s horchata and Jarritos soda on the shelves next to ten varieties of Coca-Cola. Or that there’s chorizo for sale next to Jimmy Dean breakfast links. These factors, plus the generally democratic activity of needing to buy food, generates people-watching opportunities transforming my local grocery store into a great place to wander through the aisles while sifting questions about identity.

I find it particularly relaxing to stand between the tortillas and the bagels while munching an interesting topic.

Today I was thinking about the term “mixed race.” What does this term actually mean? I’m in the dairy aisle when this question pops up. Right in front of me are containers of yogurt in various flavors, including mixed berry. I pick one up. I decide to look for other examples of mixed things. I find mixed fruit, mixed vegetables, mixed chicken parts. I also note other things that are not labeled as “mixed” but rather as “assorted” or “combination,” like cookies, crackers, and nuts. In almost all cases, mixed things are different things touching each other in the same package, not things that are structurally blended together. A coconut cookie and an almond cookie are friends, but there are no coconut-almond cookies presented as themselves.

The mixed chicken parts particularly intrigue me. It’s flesh, not that different than what I’m made of, and I’m guessing that the “mixed” bit has to do with the fact that the parts come from different chickens who may or may not have known each other. Every time I look at mixed chicken parts I think of fashion magazines and the way they cut up the female body into images — an eye, a pair of lips, an arm, a torso. In many of the images there’s no way to guess what race or ethnicity the woman might claim, because she isn’t presented as a whole person. As I’m poking at the nubbly surfaces of chicken thighs through taut plastic, I’m reminded that when I referred to myself as “half Asian” to a friend, he asked — in all innocence — “Which half?”

So am I “mixed” like chicken parts or like mixed berry yogurt — a pinkish-purple sludge of mixed berryness buried under a layer of white? I wonder. Where’s the separation? I feel like a whole person but I’m also aware that I don’t talk about the blackened duck eggs in the Chinese grocery to my white friends. I usher them past the little six-packs and act like I don’t hear them when they ask, “What are those?” I pretend like I don’t know what they’re talking about. What on earth are what? Oh, look, over here are dumplings. You like dumplings, don’t you? Dumplings, of course, are encased in white flour. The inside is probably a mixed something, but the outside is white and smooth to give them a beautiful, tasty appearance. It says so right on the package.

Am I being a jerk, not giving people a chance? Probably. I’m aware that in navigating my mixed-raced-ness, I’m not talking about topics that might well be all right to discuss. I want to. I want to ask my girlfriends if they’ve been approached as a potential dominatrix as many times as I have. I want them to know that the reason I go to that expensive hairdresser is that she never tries to make me look like a Republican news anchor with a white woman haircut, and also because she’s a Latina from the border with an attitude. I want to make them dinner and serve shrimp crackers next to the poisson au beurre.

I like all of it, the mixedness, and the mixed-uped-ness. I’m going to take these mixed berries home and pour them over my assorted waffles.

Elaine Dove is an artist and healer living in Austin, Texas. For more information, visit her blog.

Most times, Americans don’t think of Latinos as being mixed or multicultural, but in reality Latinos are leaders of multiculturalism and mixed families.  Start off with the fact that most Latinos come from a combination of European and Native ancestry, a mixing that began with the colonization of the Americas.

But beyond that there are other historical mixings, including African ancestry, Latinos in the U.S. are also in the unique position of straddling the borders of two dominating cultures, popular American culture and that of their own Latino heritage.  This puts Latinos in an excellent position to understand a variety of perspectives and address multiculturalism with ease.

In fact, Latinos make up a good part of the cultural mixing going on in the U.S. right now.  The Pew Research Center reports that 14.6% of all new U.S. marriages are interracial or interethnic and of those marriages 26% include those who identify as Hispanic or Latino.

But even though Latinos are intermarrying at a higher rate than most and have long been mixing among themselves, it seems that most Americans don’t think of Latinos as culturally and socially mixed and wouldn’t necessarily bring them up in a conversation about mixed heritage or think of them as multiracial and multicultural.

Why?  This is something of a mystery to me. But, perhaps it’s the fact that Latinos have been mixing for so long that it’s hard to see it as an abstract — or maybe it’s the social stereotyping of mixed families as classically “black and white” that prevents Americans from viewing Latinos as part of the big picture? No matter the reason, Latinos are often well-versed in social and cultural mixing and it appears that the census numbers and studies are showing their growing comfort with the topic.

A recent article in Racialicious examines the depth of the “who’s ‘mixed’ and who isn’t” discussion.  While there are some clear distinctions between the experiences of “first generation” mixies and those who have mixed ancestry, some feel that only “first generation” individuals should count.  It could also be argued, however, that both are considered “mixed” since their bloodlines each consist of multiracial heritage.

In one step further though, you could even consider mono-racial, but multicultural families “mixed” in a sense…as in culturally mixed.  Any way you slice it and no matter how you label it, a multitude of mixed families have more in common than not and could benefit from sharing their unique stories, rather than alienating each other when certain “technical” qualifications aren’t met.

Mixed lifestyle isn’t simply a “black and white” topic, and since Latinos make up a rather large piece of the pie, shouldn’t they be a bigger part of that conversation?

Chantilly Patiño writes the blog Bicultural Mom, follow her on Facebook and Twitter @biculturalmom.

[Image Courtesy Pew]

So you’re probably wondering, how does the surname “Calderón” not count as a Spanish surname? Well, it does. But my other last name, Schuessler, certainly doesn’t.

I’ve been thinking recently, about our assumptions of what “Latino” is in this country, and the truth is, I don’t think any one of us can really put a finger on it. Culture moves, shifts, morphs, evolves much too quickly for any of us to keep up. One thing is for certain, though: I think we all overwhelmingly assume that Spanish surnames are correlated with being Latino. And, as Latinos in the U.S. continue to grow and change as a portion of the population, their Spanish surnames are sure to do the same.

Even I, Sara Inés Calderón Schuessler, assumed this much, which is kind of dumb considering that my second surname is German. Nonetheless, when I moved to the Texas border in 2005 I was surprised to be frequently encountering Latinos who had non-Spanish surnames. Betancourt. Moody. Riskin. Levin. There are many more, and probably the funniest part, is they become Spanish when passed down a generation: Schuessler becomes “chish-ler” and Betancourt becomes “beten-cur,” and so on.

That’s culture for you.

We wrote about this phenomenon briefly when discussing the ways in which pollsters surveyed Latino voters, but given our recent post covering the concentrations of Latino populations in the U.S., it occurred to me that Spanish surnames are probably one of the things that will change with this population. Or, I suppose it’s more accurate to say, change more, since Latinos with non-Spanish surnames have been around, well, since colonization. What’s that, like 500 years?

It’s assumptions like these that will go the way of the Dodo bird as we, you and I, bear witness to the evolution of the U.S. as the Latino population continues to grow and influence cultural (given a higher predisposition to interracial marriage than other ethnic groups) patterns in this country. So, despite myself (and my own name), back in 2005 I changed my preconceived notions of what a Latino was “supposed” to be called, and began to embrace the fact that, along with looks, names can also be deceiving. Because, I guess the point is that culture is something intangible, certainly nothing to be corralled by a few measly letters.

Follow Sara Inés Calderón on Twitter @SaraChicaD

It’s hard to speak about everyone’s experience, but as a white woman, married to dark-skinned man, I’ve had some experiences that most wouldn’t be comfortable listening to or acknowledging.  I am part of a group of whites who have married into color, who have seen the other side of the story and who have had their perspectives of “race” changed forever.  Our senses become heightened and we become more aware of prejudice and racism. Growing up, I cared about race, I thought I cared about it a lot.  I was the kid who would speak up (if I felt I could get away with it) and take a stand against racism. But being in a relationship with someone who faces racism everyday and having a daughter who has that path laid out for her by many Americans, I began to see racism in a new light.

Taking a stand is not optional anymore. When someone makes a slight at your child, denies your husband a job or promotion, and spews slurs in his direction, you instantly feel your heart begin to pound. You step outside of your previous reality, lose sight of any worries and prepare yourself to kick some you know what!

But that’s not the most upsetting part of your story as an outsider, turned insider.   The most upsetting part is how people will turn against you and how powerless you’ll feel when others fail to acknowledge your concerns.   Sure, you knew that your mom asked you to lock the doors when a black man walked by, or that your uncle used racial slurs on occassion, but deep down, you hoped that it wasn’t racism, you thought that if they only knew about brown people, they would learn to appreciate the differences.  So you try to explain, you try to let them into a little piece of your world, clue them in on racism…but they don’t want to know and they don’t want to change.

For many of us, what happens is racism by association. You become the anti-white, believed to be against all white people. By becoming an insider with people of color, you often become an outsider amongst whites. They start defending themselves and attacking you. Here’s what it looks like:

• “You take their side over ours”
• “You would rather be with a _______ (insert slur)?”
• “You’re a traitor to your race”
• “You think everything is racist”
• “Are you sure it’s racism?  It sounds like you’re just being hyper-sensitive.”
• “I’m not racist, there’s nothing wrong with saying the n-word, it just means ‘ignorant’”
• “I’m not racist, I have  _______ (insert race) friends!”
• “You never talked about this kind of crap before you were with HIM!”
• “What, you think your Mexican now?”
• “Why are you speaking Spanish, you’re not Mexican you know?”
• “You do everything he wants, stupid Mexicans always control there wives”

And the list goes on and on. It gets to the point where every family get together makes you wary of the coming attacks, racially charged comments and finger pointing.

Family, friends and even strangers on the street feel they have the right to point out the differences between you. They feel they are justified in calling you out as a “race traitor” although they might not use those words.  They feel confident in their belief that their hostility towards your relationship has nothing to do with racism.  Then comes the onslot of offensive questions and comments:

• “Is it true that ______ (insert race) have/are/do ______ (insert bizare sexual stereotypes)?”
• “I heard that ______ (insert race) steal/lie/cheat/beat there wives.”
• “If they don’t believe in ______ (insert religion), they’ll burn in hell.”
• “Your kids will suffer because they’re mixed.  If this hurts you, just think about what you’re doing to them.”
• “If they don’t like your husband at work, he must be doing something wrong.”
• “I don’t see color, I just see people.”
• “Why should I have to learn about their history, they don’t learn mine!”
• “______ (insert race) are always crying ‘poor me’!  Why should they get special attention?”
• “I don’t think racism is even a problem, ______ (insert race) people just like to complain.”

To our family and friends, they’ve only said these things a “few times”, so what’s the big deal, right?  But, while they’re saying it for the first time (or 5th), we’re hearing it for the 20th, 30th, 40th time. We’re hearing these things again and again, and it’s hurtful.

Being a newbie insider, someone who “gets” what racism looks like from the other side of the page, it’s painful to think about what a lifetime of these dismissive comments and questions could feel like. It gives us a unique perspective about why so many people of color might feel hopeless or doubt their worth.

As insiders, we begin to find that our voices are no longer heard, but instead, are stifled and reacted to with hostility. This part of racism keeps people down and makes them question whether they’re just being “too sensitive.” The aim is to immobilize us and snuff out our opinions, but we can’t let our voices go unacknowledged. It’s for this very reason, this stifling, that I created this blog and why I believe that we all need to make our voices heard.

Chantilly Patiño writes the blog Bicultural Mom, which you can follow on Facebook and Twitter.