When I say don't call me Coco... What I simply mean is, don't call me a Coconut...
And no, that's not a reference to being nuts and/or crazy...
It's a reference to what someone nicknamed me while I was on a trip in D.C.
On this trip to D.C. I was the only brown kid out of 175 HS students from all over the US who were granted a week to explore politics and journalism- at that time I thought I was going to be a journalist...
Well, on this trip my roommates were three white girls from Florida, Connecticut and New Hampshire.
And one of them coined me Coco, short for Coconut because according to her, I was brown on the outside but "white" in the inside.
For a long time I wore that nickname/badge with honor...Like yay! I have assimilated well enough to be considered like them. (Now let's clarify, Like them, but never one of them)
BUT now... I'm not too sure how to interpret that nickname-
I struggle with what it means to be a Latina- because I dont waer my Latina-ness on my sleeve.
And not to sound like a wimpy Mariah Carey but in both my Father's and Mother's land I am considered a foreigner and in the land that I was raised in, I am considered a foreigner...
This past weekend, I was in Seattle and realized that I truly live in a bubble...it was D.C. all over again... I was the only brown face almost everywhere we went. (And in a house full of Asians is where I felt most at home) People would stare but I tried not letting it bother and I would just account it to the fact that I'm absolutely stunning ;-)
But what got me thinking about this post was something that someone said, she said it so eloquently:
"It amazes me... I come into this house and here are people that are all decked out in their red, white and blue" she says.
"That's why I wanted to take a picture of all of you... And post it on FB... And write something like, here are a group of people that have fully embraced and love America when America didn't always necessarily embrace or love them back."
And I am inspired! And I quickly respond, "And that may still not embrace or love us, let's be honest there are parts of America that, well you know" We both nod our heads in agreement.
Later on in the evening her fiancé is caught off guard when he finds out that I speak Spanish... Then in his broken Spanish he asks where are you from... And I say mom from Nicaragua and my dad from Guatemala.
He then has a hard time articulating what he thought I was... not Asian... not Mexican... and then he says "I just thought you were tan!"
LMAO! And then my Babo says "I'm hella tan" and he says "you're not tan unless you are 'Tanh' " And cue the LMAO one more time...
The point I'm making is I struggle being Latina because I'm not sure if I'm enough of a Latina... Like others are... I'm still figuring it out.
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| This I know for sure... LMAO! Dancing is in my blood! |
What I do know is that I am 28yrs-old and I am an American! I am Latina! I speak Spanish (or Spanglish when speaking to my cousins) I grew up watching Plaza Sesamo and Sesame Street... I love gallo pinto and I love burgers! I listen salsa&merengue and I listen to country... If the ladder in those examples makes me "white" then I guess I am...
I would argue, that all those things, simply make me Lilly.
That is all,
'Til next Tuesday,
Toodles
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