Who Am I?

September 16 is Mexican Independence Day. Every school age kid in Mexico knows this! On this day Father Miguel Hidalgo called upon his parishioners in the town of Dolores to rebel against the tyrannical and corrupt Spanish government. It's no wonder, then that every September my thoughts turn to reflections upon my ethnic heritage.

Having been born in Mexico is a fact that has helped define me even as I tried frantically to distance myself from it for most of my life. I came to this country at age 10 and it did not take long for me to figure out that knowing English was where I wanted to be. Those that had a command of the English language and its culture had doors opened, respect offered and opportunities given.

I spend the next twenty to thirty years immersing myself in American (white) culture learning not only the language but the underlying cultural references. I avidly grafted a white language over my own, working on accent, tone and usage to the point that most people could only detect as slight and possibly regional accent if any.

It worked! Or so I thought. I was very successful and was able to parlay my language skills and education into personal and professional success. In my mind I had won the game and I had been able to take any step I wanted and belong to any group I wanted. What I did not see was what I lost in the process.

Along with a grasp of the English language and American culture, I had acquired a particular set of values. First and foremost was racism. I learned quickly whom to disregard and whom to hate, how to look down on people in my own family who had not had the same luck that I had had. I also learned the value of individualism, considering my achievements to have been entirely due to my hard work and initiative.

Most importantly, I lost my connection to my Hispanic community and my ancestral roots. I surrounded myself with White people until I no longer felt comfortable anywhere else. That has been the most difficult to repair.

The grafting of language created a cultural schizophrenia that has remained with me to this day. When I think and speak in English I tend to be more outgoing, I am culturally and spiritually White and I have to work just as hard as any White person to overcome my natural racism.

When I think in Spanish, I become a different person, less confident and more likely to remain in the background and feel out of place in most of my current life situations. I also have to battle the racially imposed homophobia that comes with internalized oppression.

It's an interesting dilemma but not entirely without its benefits. I find I can skip back and forth between my "selves" as the occasion warrants, being either the person that understands and feels the internalized oppression, reaching out to his fellow people of color, or the person who has the responsibility of challenging his fellow Whites to question their internalized sense of superiority and life of privilege.

This is where the concept of the Intersection of Oppressions from the Church Within A Church Movement comes in handy, helping me to preserve the balance between my cultures by providing a moral compass point. I know that if I am moving for the cause of justice across the oppressions I am on the right path.

Who am I? A typical "hyphenated" American, I guess.