By Cristina Sandoval
Every ounce of blood I have in me is Mexican, and yet I’ve never been to Mexico. I was born in America–California to be specific. So by default I am Chicana. I guess you could say I’m whitewashed, but that’s not 100% accurate. I love Mexican novelas. I speak Spanish the majority of the time at home (with the parents, of course), and I listen to Spanish music. I’ve never been out of the USA, much less out of California, and I’m probably what you’d categorize as a liberal hippie, if categorizing is your thing. I’m not sure how my love for tofu dogs would go down in Zacatecas, where my family hails from. Not that there aren’t liberal hippies in Mexico. There are, I’m sure of it. But from what I can tell, it’s a whole different world past the border. The ideals, the values, not to mention the government and policies vary wildly from ours.
But that’s okay. No matter where people are placed, despite the state of their country and its policies, people find a way to manage life. It’s human nature to strive and survive. Even so, I am grateful that my parents made the trek from Mexico to the USA. There just doesn’t seem to be the same amount of opportunities in the mother country, let’s be honest. What’s tough here–schooling, employment–is tenfold in Mexico.
Dealing with the disparity of my parents’ culture and my own can be challenging. I value both sides of the border, and even having never been to Mexico, I’m still proud of my heritage. I’m proud of loud mariachi music and Coronas at baptism parties that end way too late. I love yellow corn tortillas and the way my mom’s red rice smells when it’s freshly made. I love Pedro Infante, and I’m proud of the nopales in our backyard.
I love all that. However, I’m also American, and I’m proud of that too. I’m grateful it wasn’t like hacking limbs getting my education. I may have only gone so far as receiving an Associates of Arts, but just look at what I studied: English and literature. I enjoy language, and I adore both the English and Spanish tongues. Studies show that growing up bilingual leads to success in thinking and in possible careers. If my parents didn’t give me the opportunity to study in the USA, I don’t know how I would have turned out.
Education is a big deal to me. Education is my gateway to enriching life. I firmly believe that when you seek knowledge, you find independence. Only through knowledge are you free from ignorance and gullibility. Learning things like critical thinking and reasoning is powerful. It gives you control over your own life, something that you will demand if you’re educated properly. Of course, there are plenty of other ways to knowledge. School isn’t the only route. Life can teach you all you need, but in my experience, school gives you a sense of command you just can’t get anywhere else. You get to learn through your own hard work, through hours of plowing through textbooks and stories written from people eons ago, stories that still resonate to this day. That’s power. But I digress.
Given the poverty that my family came from, I don’t think I would have had the opportunity for education in Mexico the way I’ve had here. My mother worked starting at the age of eight as a live-in maid until her adult years (but never worked in the USA after emigrating from Mexico). She never went past the fourth grade. My father never passed the second grade. Can you imagine that? They walked miles just to go to a little run-down school in the middle of nowhere, only to be met by ancient teachers who were slap-happy with their rulers. So eventually they just gave up and started working, even as children. That was decades ago, though, and I’m sure it’s improved now, but by how much?
I owe it all to my maternal grandmother, Mama Eva, as we call her. If I went further back, I owe it to my great grandmother, Alvina, and great grandfather Roque, too. Mama Eva was born in Mason City, Iowa, only to live and be raised in Mexico. Because she was legally a citizen, that left an opportunity to bring the whole family to the USA. By the early 1980’s, the whole family was here. My parents moved to Los Angeles in 1978 and started a family. Fast forward ten years and, bam, there I was. A fresh 80’s baby waiting to soak up the two cultures she was born straddling.
I wouldn’t have it any other way. I am grateful for the opportunity to live here, to find work, to not have to scrape by and the chance at a full education. I could go further. I could continue my education, and I could find better, bolder work. But if it wasn’t for Mama Eva and my parents struggling through poverty and dirt just to get here, none of that would be possible.
I’ll always be proud of my Mexican blood. I’ll always feel pride when I see someone my age who speaks Spanish fluently and who is teaching their children to do the same. When it comes down to it, we’re here in America, but we still have our ties to Mexico, as Chicanos–the language, the food, the music, the crazy TV shows. We get to hold onto a bit of what our parents left us, or what may be even further back for some of us, back to grandparents or great grandparents. We have that connection, and that’s beautiful. It’s beautiful to be bicultural. We strive and we survive as Mexicans, as Latinos, because we have a culture that lives on and refuses to be extinguished. Our rice, our beans, our warm families and our grandmothers’ chancla: it all adds up to a beautiful phenomenon. We have two cultures in one. We have Spanglish and a love for English poetry, and we marvel over a good melodrama on Univision. We’re Latino, and we expand. We’re a super-culture, and I owe my place in this culture to my parents, grandparents, and great grandparents for placing the stones on my path in this country. For that I will always be grateful.
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