My mother and I were driving to drop off my youngest sister at the community center she is volunteering at for the summer. She resents that our mother made her attend; she hates volunteering. So if you were to ask her what she did this summer she would indiscreetly hide the truth through her phrase, “summer school.”
I usually do not attend my mother when dropping my sister off, so I was enjoying being out of the house for a bit. My mother and I made small talk, the usual. Suddenly, she caught me off guard with the change of topic. She was letting me know about the Mexican flag, what the colors and eagle symbolize, and how proud the flag makes her feel whenever she sees it. I did not even have to look at her to know how happy and proud she was about her country. The pitch in her voice elevated just slightly, but enough for me to notice the change and understand.
Then she bluntly asked me: “¿Te da orgullo cuando vez a la bandera Mexicana? [Do you feel proud when you look at the Mexican flag?]”
I paused for a second because I was in absolute shock. I contemplated between giving her a short, one word, half-assed answer or sharing my actual thoughts with her. I never share my opinions with my family: I have always been distant and kept to myself, but I realized that maybe my mother was actually trying to know what I thought. She wanted to get to know her daughter more than what I usually share with her, which is not much.
I decided to go with the latter, but immediately stopped myself from answering because it dawned on me that I did not know the answer to her question. I was dumbfounded because I had never given it much thought before or noticed how I felt whenever I gazed at the flag. To me it is just another man-made object fabricated to label and separate us.
My silence probably only lasted a few seconds before wholeheartedly answered my mother, carefully choosing my words as I spoke them insuring no misinterpretation occurred between what I would say and my mother.
“I have never thought about it before. But I do feel proud of my Mexican roots because that’s where I’m from.”
“¿Estas orgullosa de la bandera Americana? [Are you proud of the American flag?]” was her following question. Unlike the first question I already knew the answer to this one as soon as she uttered the last syllable. However, it took me a moment to gather my thoughts and word my answer carefully again: “It’s not that I’m proud of the American flag but I do respect it.”
My mother thought carefully about what I had said to her and that is where our conversation ceased. I did not have to ask her why she asked me those particular questions because I already knew, or at least I think I do. My mother was trying to understand how I see myself because I know she views me through her eyes as her “Americanized” daughter with no affiliation to her Mexican blood.
She could not be any more wrong.
Mom, this “Americanized daughter” you think I am is not who I actually am at all. Yes, I was raised on and influenced by the American culture that you detest so much, but I am so much more than that. This American culture you blame so much does not define who I am because I am the one who defines myself; only me and the ideas and ways-of-living that have influenced me and I choose to keep are what define me. But have also always been influenced by our Mexican culture because I am Mexican and my ancestors are Mexican: that will never change.
I consider myself extraordinarily lucky to have had both cultures influencing me as I grew up, making me multi-cultured and open minded about the differences between cultures and people. I define myself as more than what you view me: I am both Mexican and American equally and for different reasons.
I do not take for granted where I was born and matter of fact I am more proud to be an indigenous Mexican than I sometimes show.
