Let's face it. People are complicated. And just when you think you've got someone figured out, they tell you something new that you never would have expected.
Most people don't believe me when I tell them I'm bi-racial. Except that's never the term I've used to describe myself--until now.
Growing up, I always told people I was half Mexican. Bi-racial wasn't even in my vocabulary. Neither was second-generation immigrant, which is also technically true. But growing up in a primarily White household with White extended family, the only thing I knew of my Mexican heritage came from the authentic tamales de puerco my mom would make for dinner, chiles rellenos that she ordered at restaurants, and a handful of other dishes that didn't quite fit in with the rest of our very American diet. If you're reading mom, I really do miss your cooking. You will forever be the chef I hope to one day impress with my own culinary concoctions.
Anyways, most people that know me believe that I'm as White as can be. And for a long time I believed what everyone told me. I put away any memory I had of spending time with my biological father, and embraced the new life my mother had created for me and my sister with my stepdad. I was happy. I didn't know what I was missing--until I started studying Spanish.
I think something clicked inside when I started to study the language. It came naturally, just about as natural as it is to add sugar to your lemonade. Word by word, podcast after podcast, conversation after conversation with my housekeeper co-workers, I came to discover a part of my identity that was struggling to be unleashed.
Would I say that I've fully embraced my inner Latina now, at twenty-four years old? Hell no. But I've come much closer to knowing who I am, where I come from, and why being bi-racial truly is a super power.
Here's why:
As 'White passing', I can navigate White spaces pretty easily. I didn't experience much discrimination growing up because of the way I looked. Mostly it was just from being a girl. I'd like to think that this lack of discrimination prevented me from being a much more emotionally damaged person than I already am. The strength and confidence I possess is an important component of being a leader, especially if you're going to question the status quo.
Being White passing is one of the only ways that I can leverage my privilege for the betterment of my community. By 'my community', I mean everyone else who grew up in the working class, who was the first in their family to go to college, who is bi-racial, a second-generation immigrant, and committed to improving the lives of those around them.
So what do I mean by privilege? Basically, if I were darker skinned, I might not feel as accepted or welcomed as I do in White spaces. People don't call me names, they don't question my background (I probably made this easier on myself by changing my name from Emily Godinez to Emily Reno when I turned 18...but that's a story for another day), and I generally feel like I'm taken seriously.
That is privilege. Because if you're respected, and treated as a human being, that's usually only the norm for White people. I wish that weren't true, but studying racial justice and equity and being reminded over and over again of the racial disparities here in Minnesota, it's become pretty apparent that we as a society have a lot further to go.
The only reason why this privilege makes my bi-racial identity a superpower is because I have spent enough time with people of color that I have a much better understanding of the discrimination they face on a daily basis, and the way structural racism and poverty pervades our communities. If I were not aware of these injustices, I would be useless as a contributor to this conversation, because I would have nothing to question or push back on.
Yo soy media Mexicana. It took me a long time to own the fact that my family history is more complicated than just 'my mom got divorced when I was little and then she married my dad'. I am so grateful that I continued to apply for academic scholarships designated for 'minorities', of which I earned almost all that I applied for. Being in those spaces of the Multicultural Scholars Program, the McNair Scholars Program, etc. all reminded me that as a minority nothing is easy. It never will be. We will continue to struggle in a White world that was built for White men. And as a very White Mexican-American, I owe it to every minority to say something. Every day. To never forget where I came from. And to constantly push myself to the edge of my comfort zone, taking risks that may make me look like a fool. It took me twenty-four years to recognize my positionality in American society, but hopefully a much shorter time to become the kind of communicator, healer, and leader that our society needs to have honest and open conversations about the racial issues that we continue to face.
I invite you to join me in exploring the true potential of your own superpowers, even if they are yet to be fully discovered. We're all on this journey together. Let's start today.
Most people don't believe me when I tell them I'm bi-racial. Except that's never the term I've used to describe myself--until now.
Growing up, I always told people I was half Mexican. Bi-racial wasn't even in my vocabulary. Neither was second-generation immigrant, which is also technically true. But growing up in a primarily White household with White extended family, the only thing I knew of my Mexican heritage came from the authentic tamales de puerco my mom would make for dinner, chiles rellenos that she ordered at restaurants, and a handful of other dishes that didn't quite fit in with the rest of our very American diet. If you're reading mom, I really do miss your cooking. You will forever be the chef I hope to one day impress with my own culinary concoctions.
 |
| Arroz con gandules (Technically Puerto Rican but still delicious and authentic!) |
Anyways, most people that know me believe that I'm as White as can be. And for a long time I believed what everyone told me. I put away any memory I had of spending time with my biological father, and embraced the new life my mother had created for me and my sister with my stepdad. I was happy. I didn't know what I was missing--until I started studying Spanish.
 |
| ¿Puede ser? ¿Mexicana-americana? |
I think something clicked inside when I started to study the language. It came naturally, just about as natural as it is to add sugar to your lemonade. Word by word, podcast after podcast, conversation after conversation with my housekeeper co-workers, I came to discover a part of my identity that was struggling to be unleashed.
Would I say that I've fully embraced my inner Latina now, at twenty-four years old? Hell no. But I've come much closer to knowing who I am, where I come from, and why being bi-racial truly is a super power.
Here's why:
As 'White passing', I can navigate White spaces pretty easily. I didn't experience much discrimination growing up because of the way I looked. Mostly it was just from being a girl. I'd like to think that this lack of discrimination prevented me from being a much more emotionally damaged person than I already am. The strength and confidence I possess is an important component of being a leader, especially if you're going to question the status quo.
Being White passing is one of the only ways that I can leverage my privilege for the betterment of my community. By 'my community', I mean everyone else who grew up in the working class, who was the first in their family to go to college, who is bi-racial, a second-generation immigrant, and committed to improving the lives of those around them.
So what do I mean by privilege? Basically, if I were darker skinned, I might not feel as accepted or welcomed as I do in White spaces. People don't call me names, they don't question my background (I probably made this easier on myself by changing my name from Emily Godinez to Emily Reno when I turned 18...but that's a story for another day), and I generally feel like I'm taken seriously.
That is privilege. Because if you're respected, and treated as a human being, that's usually only the norm for White people. I wish that weren't true, but studying racial justice and equity and being reminded over and over again of the racial disparities here in Minnesota, it's become pretty apparent that we as a society have a lot further to go.
The only reason why this privilege makes my bi-racial identity a superpower is because I have spent enough time with people of color that I have a much better understanding of the discrimination they face on a daily basis, and the way structural racism and poverty pervades our communities. If I were not aware of these injustices, I would be useless as a contributor to this conversation, because I would have nothing to question or push back on.
Yo soy media Mexicana. It took me a long time to own the fact that my family history is more complicated than just 'my mom got divorced when I was little and then she married my dad'. I am so grateful that I continued to apply for academic scholarships designated for 'minorities', of which I earned almost all that I applied for. Being in those spaces of the Multicultural Scholars Program, the McNair Scholars Program, etc. all reminded me that as a minority nothing is easy. It never will be. We will continue to struggle in a White world that was built for White men. And as a very White Mexican-American, I owe it to every minority to say something. Every day. To never forget where I came from. And to constantly push myself to the edge of my comfort zone, taking risks that may make me look like a fool. It took me twenty-four years to recognize my positionality in American society, but hopefully a much shorter time to become the kind of communicator, healer, and leader that our society needs to have honest and open conversations about the racial issues that we continue to face.
I invite you to join me in exploring the true potential of your own superpowers, even if they are yet to be fully discovered. We're all on this journey together. Let's start today.
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