Personal Narrative: My Mexican Roots

Growing up in an area with a large Mexican community I never really understood how much my culture means to me. I grew up with the stories my dad and grandfather would tell me about my ancestors. My people were the raiders from the hills of Mexico City and that we were a family of warriors. I never held much weight to the warrior part of my grandfather’s stories but I did know that my great grandfather was a fighter. He left Mexico and rode the train up to Denton Texas and sold tamales on the square his entire life. He fought to give my grandfather a better life here. I don’t talk about my dad’s side of the family much, in this day in age being seen as white has more advantages than being seen as Mexican. This thought changed as I came to

My parents always wanted to give their children the life they never had. I am Mexican-American, both of my parents immigrated from Mexico to the U.S. before I was born. I have numerous relatives, including my older sister, who do not have the same opportunities I have to achieve success because they are undocumented. For them, college was only a dream that could never be attained. Being the first U.S. citizen out of my entire family affected the way I thought about life. It was expected that I would attend college because I was the only one who had access to all the resources granted to American citizens. Although, I agreed with my family, the pressure to succeed and be a role model to my younger siblings was overwhelming.

My Hispanic identity and heritage is an important part of my identity because it has shaped my journey as student and guided me in discovering my passion in life. I strongly believe being the daughter of immigrant parents has pushed me to work harder as a student and has motivated me to search for ways to help my Hispanic community. Since my parents and the majority of my family are immigrants from Mexico, this unique position has exposed me to the reality of thousands of people who come to the country looking for the American Dream, but also the difficult obstacles they face in their daily lives. As a child, I witnessed how my Hispanic community lived in the shadows and were afraid to speak up when injustices occurred because of the inability to speak English and the lack of knowledge

There were three lessons that my immigrant parents ingrained in their first-generation children: Work hard, never give up, and most importantly, give back. Among other life lessons they taught us, these three were the basis for everything. It would be the basis that would and will define me as a person.

Much to my own embarrassment, my Hispanic heritage had been a thing I hardly thought of. My Father left my family when I was young, and with him went the hopeful wisps I had of learning about myself. It’s not to say that I wasn’t aware that I was Hispanic, but rather, growing up in a mainly white household I didn’t think I had any right to claim my ethnicity. However, the more I look around me and learn about the community Hispanics have grown accustomed to, the more I find that I understand where I came from. To me, being Hispanic isn’t about what you were told when you were younger, or the traditions you grew up with. Rather, being Hispanic is about learning where you come from, and learning about those who share your same heritage. ‘Hispanic’

My Hispanic heritage shaped my life because I of what my family has overcome. My grandparents from both of my parent’s sides of the family picked cotton and vegetables in the fields to help their families. I have learned from my parents and grandparents stories that it is worth working hard in school to obtain a good job in the future. Both of my parents went to college and they have been a great inspiration to me. Not all of my aunts and uncles have had good jobs. Some of them only graduated from high school. For example, my Uncle Romeo become a construction worker after he graduated from high school. It is difficult for him to buy his kids what they want and need, and even provide for himself. Although he is a diligent individual, he wishes that he could have been able to attend college and have a different career. He has used

“Wow...there is no way you’re Latino. You’re way too white!” was the ignorant remark made by a one of my peers during my school’s annual Latin-American Fest. Initially, hearing this claim made me look into the mirror. I began to stroke my face and examine my physical features. Was this true? Was I not Latino enough? Did the amount of melanin or lack thereof deem me as Latino?

My Hispanic culture is exceedingly unique contrast to other cultures because we have countless of beliefs, holidays, lifestyles, etc. My world of Hispanic culture raised me to become an independent and determined person because being the first generation of a Hispanic family to attend college has my family beyond thrilled for me to put value to our heritage. Putting value in our heritage is a magnificent emotion because people anticipate Hispanics to fail; but, we prove them wrong when we accomplish our goals. The Hispanic culture’s strength is unbelievably astonishing because we are ambitious of our dreams and we don’t cease until we fulfill our wish. Including the Hispanic culture at University of Washington may open people’s mind that we

“Wow, you are so rich”, these words have been repeated many times by close friends and relatives. I am perceived as a rich and spoiled girl who sleeps on top of a pile of money and lives in a mansion in the United States. As much as I would like to live up to that assumption, in reality, I am just a middle class citizen that lives in a small town. Yes, we have cars and a big house, but we are not loaded with money. In the country of Mexico I have had numerous occurrences where its citizens have seen me differently, not a Mexican, but as an American.

I am fluent in both Spanish and English, I am also well aware of the Latino-American experience in the United States. I have been raised in the Los Angeles area since the age of seven and thus, I am particularly sensitive to my Latino/Latina (Hispanic) patients, and their unique medical needs. In the most practical terms, I will be able to reach out to my Latino/a patients in their native language, and thereby increasing the accuracy of treatment, reducing error and increasing my patients sense of importance and relevance in their healing process. Chiropractic medicine would provide me with the balance between the holistic approach to the patient care, a complete understanding of the physiology and biomechanics of the body, and a constant observation

Growing up as a Latino in a community where most of the population are Hispanic had made me blind, detached from the reality of the world and the reality of the college experience, especially in Santa Cruz. Looking at the world I have always known to an extent who had more privilege than others, special attention, and more rights. I have also vaguely known which groups have been treated with less respect seen as less, but all of this didn’t really seem to matter to me in my immediate world. Coming to Santa Cruz on trips such as ORALE and JUSTICE has made me see, made me realize that it does affect me, my family, and my community that privilege is something that isn’t gifted to us but which we fight for, which causes us to be looked at differently

Being a Mexican-American, who was raised in the small town of Encarnación de Díaz – located at Los Altos de Jalisco, MX, – and then moved at the age of seventeen to Corpus Christi, TX, was not a smooth transition. The most difficult things I have encountered in my life must have been speaking a new language and adapting to a new type of living. I was fortunate enough to have amazing teachers who taught me to read, write and speak in English back in Mexico, but I was still not confident enough to speak the language when I arrived here. Although, many have told me that my English doesn’t sound as if I just moved here five years ago, I still believe I have so much more to learn.

Growing up, I barely heard the early 2000’s hits blasting from the car radio; instead, Marc Anthony would always serenade us. Growing up, Christmas day didn’t begin Christmas morning; instead Christmas day began Christmas Eve night. Growing up, I didn’t dismiss my heritage; instead, I embraced it. My Latino background defines who I am. Surging throughout my body, my Puerto Rican and Salvadoran heritage has shaped me into the person I am today.

As a Hispanic American, I have been exposed to the beauty of my ancestors culture, while living in a country with one of its own. Being the first generation to be born in the United States of America, coming from a family whose roots deeply stem from the Dominican Republic, is an interesting dynamic. While my family is well adjusted to living in the States, they still celebrate as if they were back in their birthplace. They eat, drink, and dance as if they were back home. They speak Spanish to each other despite knowing perfect English. They remind us first generation kids, how privileged we are to be born in the States. As an American, my lifestyle and culture is evidently different than that of my family. I, among my Hispanic American millennial

I am Mexican-American. It took me years to finally be able to say that with a sincere feeling of pride. Both of my parents were born in Mexico and moved here before they had a chance to attend college, so my entire life I’ve been exposed to both Mexican culture and American culture. Instead of seeing my multi-cultured world as unique and special, I saw it as a sort of disadvantage, but as time went on and I became more educated on the successes of Mexican-Americans, I had a newfound understanding and appreciation of the culture which consequentially influenced my future aspirations.