What it means to be Mexican to me
As a kid, being Mexican was the reason why my family did things differently. Because we were Mexican, we ate different foods, listened to different music, and spoke a different language. I didn’t see myself as different; I was just a normal girl in America who just so happened to be Mexican. Sometimes I find myself mourning these innocent years.
It wasn’t until I started going to school that I noticed I was different. Suddenly I had to learn a new language around people who already knew it. Suddenly, I was embarrassed by my school lunch because I didn’t have a Lunchable like everyone else. Suddenly, I had a new role in my household: a translator. Everywhere I went, I was a translator for my parents. The grocery store, school meetings, doctor appointments. No matter where we were, I was being asked to translate. As an elementary schooler, I was helping my parents with their bills, medical, and legal papers. Although I started seeing myself as different, I also started to see some of the good things. Having a big extended family was a major plus; I was never bored. The food was amazing; I’m glad we ate pozole instead of turkey on holidays, and I love an evening cup of coffee with a concha.
Middle school and high school were when I started feeling proud of being Mexican, and it was also when I started to see all of the injustice. I started to learn my parents’ story, their life before, how they got here, and how hard they worked to get to where they are now. It broke my heart seeing my parents come back from work, bone-tired. There were days when I would not see my dad all day because he would go to work before I woke up and come back when I was already asleep. I’m proud of my parents for everything they did, because without them I wouldn’t have the privilege of getting higher education. My parents taught me to work hard to get to where I want to be. Even though Mexicans are some of the hardest-working people I’ve ever met, we still get hate. I felt this hate so much when ICE started popping up everywhere. Those must have been the worst days of my life. Seeing people get so aggressively detained on social media instilled a great fear in me. Every day I would worry that my parents were going to be next, that I would lose them and be left alone with my brother. I was scared that my parents were going to be detained, that I would lose contact with them and not know if they were ok or not. I knew my parents were scared too, but they insisted on leaving the house, going out, shopping, parties, and working. They said that just because the government wanted them gone, they weren’t going to stop living their lives. With everything that Mexicans have been through these past years, they never back down, and I’m proud of that.
Starting college made me realize that we have a bad start. Applications, FAFSA, and scholarships were all new to me and completely unknown to my parents. To my parents, getting into a college should have been easy for me; I had the grades, so of course I’ll get accepted anywhere. Filling out applications and financial aid was so difficult for me; I felt like I was doing everything wrong. I felt alone because this was the first time I couldn’t go to my parents for help. Once in college, I started feeling insecure about my family’s education. Everywhere around me were people who came from educated parents, and they knew things I didn’t know. They knew how to work the financial aid system, which extracurricular activities to do, and they knew the world of internships. I was so incredibly jealous of these people because it felt like they had a leg up in the world. This struggle, however, has made me feel so so proud of myself. For being the first in my family to go to college, for moving up in the world, and I know my parents are also proud of me.
This Hispanic Heritage Month, I’ve been thinking about what it means to be Mexican. To me, being Mexican means being proud of everything we do. It means knowing our struggles don’t define us but instead show our growth. Being Mexican means seeing all of the hate directed towards us and not backing down by continuing with our lives. When we’re knocked down, we get back up. Being Mexican means having a rich family history; we come from a line of hard workers. It’s mexiCAN, not mexiCANT. And of course, being Mexican means having great food, maybe even the best. I am so proud to be Mexican, and I have much hope for this generation of Mexican Americans.
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