The Valley of Unknown Cultures
At a young age, my mother explained to me that I was created from a Mexican father and a white mother. My young mind struggled to wrap its brain around this new information.
“So I’m half and half?” I asked.
“Yes, half Mexican and half white.”
“Like half?” And I mimed drawing a line down the center of my body, from the top of my head to my feet, as if my being literally was half white and half brown and the two hemispheres did not bleed together. As I grew up, I became aware that although these two heritages bled together to make me, the two differing cultures did not bleed together. I was born and raised in this country and was given America’s culture. Not my father’s homeland culture or ancient Scottish history of my mother’s. I was not taught Spanish at home. I am phenotypically light-skinned and racially ambiguous and considered “white” for all intents and purposes. I don’t look like my paternal, dark-skinned cousins and am lost in translation while trying to communicate with elders. Yet I stick out among my mother’s family with my black hair and almond eyes. I previously found myself lost between two cultures, each loving and distant, unfamiliar but intriguing. I began to see these cultures as if they were two mountains towering on either side of me and I was abandoned in the shadows beneath them, proud of both sides but still disconnected from either side. I stayed in the shadows of self-identity ambiguity while listening to my unknown cultures. They called to me but I didn’t listen until now.
Throughout my life I have been teased for not being “Mexican enough”. Sometimes I would even get the occasional person who would not believe me when I said I was half Mexican. Once in high school, I was sharing my ethnicity to a classmate who immediately disregarded it.
“Shut up, I don’t believe you. You’re not Mexican. You’re white.”
I should have just ignored this young, rude boy yet I couldn’t help but feel a fire ignite in me. I was livid. Why does a stranger think he is able to decide my ethnicity for me? Similar incidents happened within my own family. My paternal uncle and cousin made fun of me because once I tried to say a Spanish word with the right accent. They called me a gringa and embarrassed me in front of other family members. I hardened and became angry that I had to be half Mexican and not full. In my mind, I started to believe that being completely Mexican was more worthy than my mixed races. I became bitter that I didn’t have the culture or foreign language that my cousins had. Although, despite my anger, I never lost my cultural pride, even if it was a culture that was foreign to me.
In The Souls of Black Folk by W.E.B. DuBois, he proposes that people with non-European backgrounds develop the ability to not only see themselves through their own eyes but also through the eyes of others. DuBois calls this the double consciousness.
“It is a peculiar sensation, this double-consciousness, this sense of always looking at one’s self through the eyes of others…two souls, two thoughts, two unreconciled strivings…”
DuBois’ theory was created with an African American’s history in mind. However, it relates to all minorities, non-Anglo, or mix-raced cultures living among a land that is repeatedly told is not theirs. While I have never experienced this sort of discrimination, this theory has helped me create my own cultural identity. In many ways, I developed my own double consciousness. While the original theory defines it as the ability to see oneself through their eyes and the “others” eyes, I, too, started to see myself through two different perspectives. Only the two perspectives were how I viewed myself relating to my two heritages, not how other people may view me.
I realized that creating connection to one side of my heritage did not mean I was going to lose the other. I did not have to sacrifice one side in order to gain a connection. My double consciousness changed the way I interpreted my cultural identity. Instead of seeing myself as two different halves, I began to realize these two halves made me whole. Descending from two cultures gives me a unique opportunity to create my own cultural identity and insight into multiple cultures. Instead of being angry that I did not have a natural pull to either heritage, I could combine my two halves to construct a culture that resonates with me. I have learned to embrace the disconnect I have from my father or mother’s culture and use that to push and motivate me to create the connection myself. Using my version of double consciousness, I taught myself that culture is fluid and borderless and is much more flexible than it is definite. I do not stand in the shadows of two cultural mountains leering down at me anymore but find myself in a valley, standing in the shade of two hills that represent my heritages. My double consciousness has helped me find peace by teaching me how to view myself as a person first, not weighing my worth on how authentic of a Mexican I am or how well I know my Scottish ancestry. I have learned to accept I may never have the connection that I dream of having with my two heritages but that doesn’t mean I cannot create it for myself by weaving them together. My cultural pride has, and never will, falter, and if my double consciousness has taught me anything, it is to keep chasing my lost cultures.
