I saw a home-made sticker on the back windshield of a car today. It said, Chicano Por Vida. Chicano For Life.
Well, yah, I thought, unless you use skin bleach or dye your hair blond and use blue contact lenses, you pretty much stay the way you were born for your entire life, qué no?
Pues, no. Not always. There are ways to lose your chicanismo. You could end up somewhere in Colorado where people pronounce the names of the towns like Buena Vista as Booney Vista, or Salida as Sa-LYE-da (Spanish pronunciation has the i sounding like a long e).
My sister who lives in Denver once told me she met a guy who introduced himself as So-and-so Mon-DRAgon — first syllable Rasta-style and the last part pronounced ala the fire-breathing variety. (In Spanish, emphasis is on the GON.)
I bet the Chicano Por Vida guy would never mispronounce his name. He probably doesn’t try to erase his accent so he sounds more like a news anchor than a vato from the barrio. I like that he’s made this proclamation. Chicano Por Vida, hombre. Embrace it. Love it.
I used to be ashamed of it. My parents moved us to a mostly white middle-class suburb/enclave inside a mostly working-class Chicano part of town. The kids in my neighborhood called our school Vato High — its real name was Valley High — and they called the Chicanos spics. I told my friends I was Italian. It took me until college before I reclaimed my brown self.
I can already tell my girls are trying to figure out what to think about their ethnicity. When Dee was five she came home from school wondering why her skin wasn’t pink. And this year when Em made a doll representing her heritage, she picked Jim’s Swedish roots instead of mine.
I just keep andando. We don’t speak Spanish at home, although I do make sure we roll the r’s in our burritos. And Em is in an afterschool Spanish class and picking up the language pretty well. I feed them the food I grew up on, and mostly I remind them that brown is beautiful.
Ya veremos. I figure if I live as Chicana Por Vida, they might choose to do the same.
This is a strong piece. It’s the kind of piece I get afraid to comment on, lest I say the wrong thing. But what I notice is the language assimilation you speak of in Colorado. And the other thing is I wondered if it made you sad that Em chose the Swedish roots. It’s an honest piece. And heartfelt.
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ybonesy,
Believe it or not, Tania and I are trying to have a baby, but no luck yet. We banter back and forth what a child of ours would be; black or white, Venezuelan or American, Spanish or English, fish soup or red enchiladas?
Good piece.
MM
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That’s really cool, MM. Fish soup, for sure. That is so tasty. I made it for weeks after Tania taught me, but now I need another lesson.
QM: I know what you mean about being sort of afraid of commenting, but I’m glad you did. It did kind of make me sad when Em choose to make her self-portrait/doll Swedish. But I also notice after her Spanish class did its play this past Mon night and after I had helped her practice her lines, she seems really interested in Spanish and Spain and Mexico. They wanted to know how far back my roots go and how far back Jim’s roots go. It’s all a process of discovery, and I just tell her everything I can about my culture, and I’m excited and proud when I do it.
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ybonesy,
Has it ever bothered you how Madrid, New Mexico is pronounced? It has always bothered me. I find it very annoying.
Also the little what I know about your family history, especially your dad growing up in Costillas, I find it fascinating. Northern New Mexico culture is different than the southern NM-mining town culture I grew up in.
MM
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Yes, that bothers me. But it’s also morphed into its own place, and it’s the locals who’ve been there for a long time who call it MA-drid. Which is how I should look at the Colorado towns, too–it’s the people who now live there that change the names.
Yes, southern and northern NM are very different, aren’t they? Even the color of our red chile (brown-red in the south, orange-red in the north) is different.
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I haven’t spent much time in southern NM. Isn’t there a place you can visit the sandhill cranes? They winter there after migration over Nebraska, don’t they?
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QM,
I think you are thinking of the Bosque del Apache Wildlife Refuge south of Soccoro.
Folklore has it that Silver City is where putting a fried egg on top of the enchilada was started.
Silver City: home of Billy the Kid, Geronimo, Harrison “Jack” Schmitt (11th man on the moon) and the egg on your enchilada!
MM
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I never though that there would be alguien que me comprenda Creo que somos the same. Because todo eso que you say is just like what im going through. I’d like to hear from you mandame un mail.
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Oye, Cindy, gracias por stopping by. Prefiero platicar por el blog en vez de email, pero vamos a conversar. Tambien vivi’as como nina en un barrio asi’ como mine? O cu’al parte del post mi’a te sonaba contigo? Tell me more.
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alll my homeboys say we always gangster 4 life
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i go 2 lancaster high school
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One thing I will say about being Chicano, is that most people think that being Chicano is a bad thing,even our own people think that. I’m a cop and I still consider myself a Chicano Por Vida. It’s a life style that has nothing to do with being a thug or gangmember. Chicanos are about family and taking care of our own. So if you think that being a Chicano is a bad thing, I will tell you to please get some knowledge about Chicanismo/Chicanoism. Like I said I’m a cop and still consider myself a Chicano and I am very proud of my heritage, I embrace it alot.
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I think being a Chicano is a good thing, too. My folks used to get mad at me and my sister for calling ourselves “Chicanas.” Some people think of it as a political term of identity, and I suppose it was associated with the Chicano movement of the 60s. But that’s why I like the term. It speaks of pride in who you are. And, as you say, it speaks of family and loyalty.
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Hola. I read your piece and I can relate. I was born and raised in El Paso, Texas. I grew up in the Segundo Barrio. So I think I know about being Chicana. Trying to pass on a heritage to your kids when they are being bombarded with the idea of fitting in if you at least think anglo is a difficult one not only for them but for parents as well. All you can do is keep sharing family history and celebrating the chicano culture. One day the kids wake up and suddenly have an appreciation of who they are and where they come from. Great post. Bien hecho.
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Hola Teresa. Thanks for stopping by and reviving this post.
You’re exactly right about keep on keeping on, because it’s finally starting to turn. My oldest is hopefully going to Mexico on an exchange this spring, and she is so excited. For the first time she’s making a huge effort to really pronounce Spanish words with the right accent. And part of what’s helped, too, is that she has friends who are proud of their heritage, even if they are mixed-ethnicity like she is.
So, yes, she’s waking up. And the younger one hopefully will, too, when she’s old enough to appreciate her “different-ness.” Right now, a lot of focus on “fitting in,” as you point out.
And it is hard for the parents, who probably came from a generation whose own parents saw the benefit in erasing the accent and fitting in. So some of us have had to make a conscious effort to get back what we have lost.
Again, thanks for stopping by. This is a topic for which I have much passion.
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[…] about my nose. We have already introduced ourselves, and I have already answered his queries about my ethnicity and where I’m […]
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