La Negrita: Finding Oneself Through Acculturation.

The stereotypical story of US Hispanics is that of a Mexican running across the Border or that of a Cuban risking their life on a shabby raft for a better life in the U.S. They are often depicted as running behind trucks in hopes of scoring a job in manual labor or they are portrayed as single mothers with no education, no job and a handful of children. Even my parents’ story can fit right into the American stereotype of Hispanics. My mother’s struggle as a five year old girl who only spoke Spanish when she moved to the United States and had to grow up in a home with her mother who could barely pay the bills on her own and eight of her other siblings some of who she had to help raise is very stereotypical as well as my father who came to America in his twenties and struggled to get by, got his citizenship thirty years later and til this day barely knows English.

Well I am a US Hispanic and I cannot relate in anyway to their journey of coming to America. I was born in America- Miami Beach, Florida, to be exact. I speak English fluently and some broken dialect I like to believe is Spanish. I grew up in a single parent home with my mom and two older brothers. I have a huge family full of first generation, second and now a few third generation U.S Hispanics. I studied hard in school and reached the point where I thought I knew everything because besides my two brothers and one cousin out of about sixty, I received a high school diploma. Not only that, I was going to college. I felt like I was taking full advantage of being in America and could not understand why they had not. I resented coming from a culture that in my eyes embraced collectivism and family to the point where no one wanted to grow up and be independent, and where women are suppose to get married young, have kids and tend to the husband for the rest of their lives. I just could not understand why they would not take the opportunities offered in America and create a better life for themselves. For example until recently my forty-something year old uncle was still living with my grandmother, his mother! I had no one to look up to except my mother who I applaud for raising me and my brothers on her own and taking a shot at college, but besides her the people in my family seemed to live off of tostada y café con leche for breakfast, getting into un escandalo for lunch arroz con pollo for dinner and bochinche for dessert. I was raised in an acculturated semi-typical Puerto Rican household but could not speak perfect Spanish or relate to my family members who were fresh from the Island. I felt like an outcast because I wasn’t considered Spanish enough because I did not speak Spanish fluently and because I did not have the same beliefs that they did. Aside from not relating to my own family I found it hard to relate to other US Hispanics who assumed I’d come from Cuba or Puerto Rico. I just looked the part so people automatically assumed that I was like them, but as soon as I opened my mouth I was an individualist thinker who clearly did not want to be labeled as the stereotypical Hispanic woman. Aside from being labeled as “too” American by my family, some of them made me feel like I wasn’t Hispanic enough because I was darker than most of them. My mothers’ side of the family consists of fair skinned and light eyed individuals as well as some dark haired and brown eyed ones speckled here and there. I was referred to as “La Negra”. Although my grandmother called me negrita with affection, others did not. I felt like the black sheep- literally and that made me feel like I was different, like I wasn’t Hispanic.

My father was in and out of my life; after being gone for about seven years consecutively, I got in contact with him when I was seventeen and we talked about a lot of things, but I wanted to talk about race so I asked him if he considered himself a black man. He laughed and said “Yo soy negro niña, estas siega?”, and I laughed it off but the truth is that I had never really thought of race and ethnicity as being two separate things. So I asked my mom “Why didn’t you ever tell us growing up that we were more than just Hispanics? She was confused and asked me what I meant, and I said, “Why didn’t you let us in on our racial heritage as well?” and of course she felt offended and said something to the effect of, “Because I didn’t think it mattered”. It did matter though; it would have helped alleviate a lot of the insecurities I felt as a child for wanting to be fair skinned like my mom’s side of the family.

Realizing that I was racially mixed made me question if I was Hispanic. At the time I did not understand that being racially mixed had nothing to do with me being Hispanic culturally; in fact it is a common misconception that being Hispanic is a race when it is not. After having that talk with my father I started reading more into the slave trade and how it reached Hispanic countries such as Cuba, The Dominican Republic, and Puerto Rico; and the contributions that those individuals made to those cultures- to my culture. I soon learned that most Hispanics, especially those from the Caribbean islands are racially mixed; and that I come from descendants of Indian, African, and Caucasian race. At first my mother was so offended and would say that I was exploring my black side and felt that I didn’t consider myself Hispanic anymore. What I explained to her is that it’s not about wanting to be Black, Indian, Japanese or Hispanic but about understanding your heritage and culture. I am the result of a mixture of people from all different places, cultures, experiences and the connection these people had with each other. It is easy to try to define someone as one simple thing, but it is a multitude of things that make every individual special- from the family they have, the experiences they encounter in life and what they ultimately consider themselves to be. Whenever people ask me “What are you?” I say “I’m an American of Puerto Rican and Afro-Cuban Heritage with a little bit of Japanese in there”. People usually give me a confused look because I’m not saying what they want to hear. People are so easily defined by their race, culture, sex, beliefs, etc; but it’s important to know all the facts that make us unique as Hispanics so that the “border runners” and the “rafter” stereotypes don’t continue.

The process of acculturation (for some more of a struggle) is not something I experience alone, it’s my mother’s, my brother’s my father’s and all of those who struggle to find their identity. Going away to college and learning more about the differences in race, ethnicity and cultures made me realize that the truth is that being Hispanic means that I am different but that my culture is a melting pot of different people and traditions that connect us all no matter where we live. I am Hispanic and I live in the U.S and as long as I always remember the history of my ancestors, the sacrifices my parents made, the cultural values from which I was raised, and my own experiences assimilating then I will never struggle to find myself as a Hispanic no matter where life takes me.

By Jacqueline Palmer
Student
Center for Hispanic Marketing Communication
Florida State University