If being biracial isn’t already an experience in itself, I am additionally racially ambiguous. I am a mix of Irish, Italian, Mexican and Salvadorian, but I mostly identify as Salvadorian for one half and white as the other half.
My mom is from the country of El Salvador and her, along with four of her seven siblings, immigrated to the United States. Growing up, my best memories were being surrounded by my loud and fun salvadoreñx family.
Today, this side of my family is pretty spread out with relatives living throughout the Midwest, the South, or outside of California in the West, but back then we were all close in proximity to each other. Family gatherings consisted of mouth-watering food such as pupusas and empanadas salvadoreñas, dancing to cumbia music, and all the cousins gathering in one room to chill and play video games.
Conversations were mostly in Spanish but my dad didn’t want us to learn Spanish because he didn’t know it, so I didn’t fluently learn it. For a long time, I wasn’t able to understand what most of my uncles, aunts, or cousins were talking about. I found out really early on that the language barrier I was facing would define my place in my family.
While I don’t mind when people speak other languages in front of me, it hurts when my family members make it a habit of defining who I am based on my language skills. How I saw it, if I am unable to speak Spanish fluently, then I was not salvadoreña.
Since my brother and I were the first in our salvadoreñx family to be mixed, we were constantly reminded of our “white” side and how we would never be fully considered salvadoreñx because of it. Even my sister who shares the same mother as me but we have different dads, used my mix as an insult.
My dad’s family is vastly different; around them, the environment is calmer, predictable, and more conversational. We’re pretty diverse with most of the grandchildren, including myself and my brother, as being all biracial in some way. Yet, growing up with this side of my family, race never came up as a topic of discussion and I felt that we were all American as it can get.
I always felt and identified as Latina but there have been many factors throughout my life that has told me otherwise.
Apart from my family informing me of not being Salvadorian enough, I have also had to deal with not looking like my own mother. Unfortunately, as a young child, I heard remarks from people who thought my mom was my babysitter or some stranger. I can only imagine how heartbreaking it must feel when you’re told that your child isn’t yours based off of looks.
On the other hand, I resemble closer to what my dad’s family looks like but we are racially ambiguous and often mistaken for being middle eastern. I’ve been asked if I am Persian, Pakistani, Indian, Afghan, or Lebanese. And while I see this as a compliment because these countries have many beautiful people, I have also faced the racism that goes along with these ethnicities.
I’ve experienced several times the “random selection” process at airports and getting searched for bomb material. In most cases, I have been singled out with many people surrounding me and I was told that my belongings may have traces of bomb materials.
These experiences were humiliating but also informative of how easy it is to be racially profiled. I don’t often travel in airplanes but I understand that for those within the Middle Eastern and Northern Africa community, this experience is something they have to be aware of because it occurs so often.
Today, I am still exploring how I identify myself. My culture is very important to me and I’ve come to learn that no one can define it for me, only I can do that. I have recently learned how to speak Italian, which has helped me to improve my Spanish, but knowing a language doesn’t make me feel any less or more of what I identify as. It is what I feel inside, what makes me happy and accepting of myself. I am not ashamed of either of my cultures and the more I express that, the more comfortable I feel with myself and my family.
