September 15 was the beginning of Hispanic Heritage Month. It is a time to show reverence and respect to Hispanics in the U.S. and their history. Mexicans, Puerto Ricans, Cubans, Guatemalans, and anyone of Hispanic origins should feel a sense of pride in their heritage, even if the rest of the world does not make a big deal about it. I am Mexican American, and I know that a lot of my family comes from New Mexico and Texas, which used to be a part of Mexico until the Texas Revolution and the U.S. Invasion of Mexico. I do not usually refer to myself as Hispanic, and I know a lot of Mexican Americans who despise the term. Personally, I don’t mind it. I prefer to call myself Mexican American, Latino, or Chicano. That is my own preference, and I do not go on a tirade toward anyone who refers to me as Hispanic.
But what exactly does that mean? What relevance does being Mexican American have to my identity as Andrew James Rocha? Why should I be proud of being Mexican? American? Why does the history of Mexican Americans, Latinos, and Hispanics mean so much to me? As I get older and I start to discover more about who I am and what I believe, I ask myself these kinds of questions often, and the answers I come up with tell me a lot about myself.
I am Mexican American. Does that mean I fit a certain stereotype? No. I might have brown skin, brown eyes, and black hair, but I do not speak Spanish and I can barely understand the language. I was not born in Mexico and I have never been to Mexico, I do not have an accent, and I do not listen to loud Mariachi music. I do eat beans and rice burritos a lot, but that is not really relevant to my point. My point is this: appearances and interests have nothing to do with being Mexican-American. There are, of course, similar value,s but that is because we come from the same people, and that is what being Mexican American is about.
I come from a group of people with a history that is stained with genocide and oppression, though it was once royal and fruitful. I come from an ancient civilization that rivaled the Greek and Roman Empires, with people who knew the Earth was round and revolved around the sun while Europeans killed each other over that fact. I come from a people who fought against subjugation and died while defending their ways of life. I come from a people who had to assimilate into a new culture and were often beaten and threatened just because their skin was darker and they did not always speak English. I come from a people who are called “illegals” and labeled as “rapists” and “murderers” when they just want to live their lives in peace.
The fact that I am Mexican American should not matter. I should be able to just live my life however I want without worrying about people hating me without even knowing me. But because my skin is brown, my eyes are brown, and my hair is black, I am called Mexican American, and made to think that is shameful. But it is not, and I will never be ashamed of where and who I came from.
