My identity | emdi's Blog

I used to hate the fact that I wasn't Caucasian. I used to hate being mistaken for one. I used to hate being a "Hispanic." I used to hate being called white. I used to hate being called an American with no background. I am Mexican American. Feeling lost and without an identity, I used to say I had no race or ethnicity. I used to say I wasn't anything. I used to wish I was from a different place, and had a different face. I asked what I could've been, but it didn't change anything. My last name is something I had once traced, for some kind of origin, and searched for its specific place. I had found 5 different places, but I couldn't be truly linked, in any way. I only spoke "American." I only knew English. I couldn't understand them, and I couldn't talk either. I was just a pale yellow fish out of water. I didn't like to try and speak Spanish, 'cause I'd look like a fake fool. I tried Spanglish, but it hardly ever works. I couldn't even speak with my grandmothers, or my grandfathers. If only my mom, dad, and relatives weren't hurt by these things. I wished to be anything, anything worth accepting. I've realized that I truly am a Hispanic, a Mexican-American being. I learned that I can't do everything, but see more than anything, that I'm something. Someone, with a background. I have an identity, maybe unaverage and rarely unique, but it's worth...every little thing.