We all know the story. The British powers-that-be decided to use the American colonies to finance their bloated empire. Since we were asked to give but were never given proper representation in Parliament, certain Americans reacted against this. They screamed, “No taxation, without proper representation” and decided to undertake one of the most revolutionary enterprises in the Modern Age: to break from their rulers and declare their independence. Nothing like this had happened before. Consider that just about every major country at that time had some type of ruler. It was a given that citizens answered to their ruler, who was usually God’s representative. Who would even think of fighting for their freedom and for the right to determine their futures? We did and we changed the world.

As bad as things seem to be here at the US, we have it much better than many other people. Just the other night, I heard Wyclef Jean speak at the BET Awards. He told about going from a hut in Haiti, to the projects and, then, to a mansion. Where else could this be possible? In the US. Here we have the liberty to say just about anything that we want and not be afraid of secret police making us “disappear.” We have the right to be able to protest peacefully and not be afraid of getting shot by government troops. We have the right to vote without being forced by threats to vote for “the right candidate.” We have so many rights that others in this world are not fortunate enough to have. Let us not forget this.

So as you enjoy your vacation while eating BBQ with your loved ones and enjoy a day of being away from the office, remember what you’re celebrating. We are celebrating yet another of our country’s birthdays. Just as it’s true with us, it’s a celebration of one more year of existence—another year to enjoy what for us is The American Dream. So when you celebrate all of this that has been given to you, remember to appreciate and protect it. Here’s to the 4th of July.

 

Author: José A. Rodríguez

An interesting thing happened during the time that I spent out there. First of all, we were there eight hours on both days. Being around all of the food smells and seeing the Mexican flags anywhere and everywhere almost gave me a transfusion of my Mexican culture. Though I go fairly often into Southwest Detroit, it’s not the same thing. I smelled the meat cooking for the tacos, which brought back memories from both sides of the border. I drank perhaps the biggest horchata (rice milk). Of course, I saw tons of images of Emiliano Zapata, Pancho Villa and even Che Guevara (ignoring the fact that he’s actually an Argentine figure and not Mexican). So, for all these sights and smells, we had our share and with some to spare! Everything, especially the food, was something warm and welcoming. The easiest way to explain my feelings is to say that they wrapped around me like a blanket. I felt like I was home.

The downside of the weekend is when I had to change hats. Let me tell you what I mean. Throughout the weekend, I really stretched my language skills. With one person, I might be speaking English and then turn around and speak to another in Spanish. Though my English is slightly better, I was able to effectively communicate in both. However, the flipping between languages tired me out!

Let me share with you a quote from the movie Selena. When Selena told her father, Abraham, how she wanted to go Mexico to get some press, he expressed his reluctance. He told her, We’ve gotta be more Mexican than the Mexicans and more American than the Americans-both at the same time. It’s exhausting!”

Do you ever feel exhausted at switching hats? I didn’t really realize this until I was driving home one of the days. The only way that I could describe it is that where I live seems like a whole world removed from the immersion that I experienced in Southwest Detroit. Even though Cinco de Mayo felt like home, I couldn’t help but wonder which is my real world.

I’d be interested to hear if you have ever had a similar experience. Have you ever felt that sometimes you have to wear your “Latino” hat and other times your “American” one?

Christina, 33, met her husband, Matt, while he was then working in Argentina.  They met at a pub that was frequented by Americans.  The initial introduction was made through one of her friends and so began the adventure.

“Our first date we went to Tucumán.  I took him by myself because I couldn’t speak any English and he couldn’t speak any Spanish.  I took him to a place to eat empanadas.  I was telling him, ‘These empanadas are great.  They’re the best in the world.’  The empanadas came but they weren’t cooked enough. I told him that they were the best, but the worst came,” Christina said with a chuckle.  “As we ate, we didn’t say nothing.  He’d had them before in Córdoba.  He probably thought that I was a liar!”

At that time, the difference in language presented significant obstacles.  However, both persisted in communicating with each other.  Through a combination of sign language,  basic vocabulary and sheer tenacity, both kept going.  Somehow, they made it work.

“He kept talking about [Mike] Tyson.  He ate someone’s [Evander Holyfield's] ear. He tried explaining it to me, but I didn’t understand nothing.  It was an interesting conversation.  I didn’t understand what he was talking about.  He was using a translating machine.  He was desperate to explain to me what he was talking about.  I didn’t understand anything.”

After the initial introduction, they kept seeing each other.  However, she was still keeping a secret: her age.  It took her about a month to finally reveal the truth, which provided her a tremendous sense of relief.

“After that, my friend asked, ‘How old are you?’ I said, ‘Tell him that I’m 23.’ It took about a month for me to tell him the truth.  The day that I told him the truth, he was probably wondering, ‘Are you married?’ It turned out that it was just about my age.  He was happy, when I told him, because he was probably wondering if I had a baby, was divorced or had a boyfriend,” she explained.

Things kept progressing between Christina and Matt.  A few months afterward, they traveled to Alabama, where her future brother-in-law was getting married.  This was big for two reasons.  First of all, it was her first trip to America.  Also, Christina would get to experience her first American wedding and see how different it was compared to Argentine ones.

“At a party before the wedding, we were all in a restaurant and then everybody stopped eating and went outside.  I asked Matt what was going on and he started laughing and said that everybody went outside to smoke.  That doesn’t happen in my country because we can smoke all over the place.  Nobody was inside but me and Matt.  Eventually, I told him, ‘I gotta go.’ I was outside smoking and tried to talk to somebody,” she said with a chuckle.

Following the wedding in Alabama, Christina and Matt were invited to Indianapolis to visit his mother and stepfather.  While his mother treated her well, the language barrier, as it was with Matt, continued to be a problem.  However, none of this stopped Christina from having her first experience with American-style pancakes.  They were definitely not what she expected.

“The wedding was like three or four days.  After that, his mom invited us.  The funny thing is when we went to eat breakfast.  It was the four of us: me, Matt, Matt’s mom and his step-dad.  They invited us for breakfast.  When I saw the menu, it was my first time eating pancakes.  When I saw pancakes, I thought that it was the type like we have in Argentina—almost like crêpes.  I was thinking pancakes with dulce de leche.  When they gave me the pancakes—the pile of pancakes—I gave them a look like, ‘What is this?’ I was expecting my pancakes,” she said with a laugh.  “Everybody was looking at me.  I started eating.  Put maple syrup on them.  I ate them like a piece of bread.”

From her colorful introduction to American culture to the present, Christina views marrying an American and moving to the United States as an adventure—not something to be feared, but looking forward to the next experience.

“It was different—very different.  I wasn’t nervous.  To me, it was more like an adventure,” she concluded.

Author: José A. Rodríguez

Having just spoken about prejudice, this is an important concern for Mi Estilo.  As we look at Latinos, they encompass all sorts of backgrounds and shades.  I look at me and my family.  I look like the “stereotypical” Mexican: black hair, brown eyes and have brown skin.  Nonetheless, I have family—aunts and cousins—that have lighter features.  Who looks “more Mexican?” Admittedly, this is something that not just mainstream American society thinks about but we, Latinos, buy into as well.  Each Latino is unique and not with some formula that can be duplicated.

There is also the issue of language.  The Spanish that I speak is probably a bit outdated, as I learned it from my parents and they’ve lived here for over 30 years.  Up until I started studying it at the university, my vocabulary was limited.  My grammar and writing were horrible.  My r’s became harder to roll.  However as my studies progressed, so did my ability to read, write and speak Spanish.  Nonetheless, as I began to speak it with other Latinos, I felt less and less insecure because my Spanish was still a bit rough around the edges.

The realization came to me last night as I was reading a chapter of Mario Bosquez’ The Chalupa Rules: A Latino Guide to Gringolandia.  In Chalupa Rule 6 (Swim In Your Culture), he talked about being proud of whatever Spanish that you might speak.  Whether it’s Tex-Mex, Mexican or Guatemalan Spanish, any is valid because it is your expression. Your Spanish is the summary of your family’s cultural history.  I realized that my Spanish is as good and as valid as anybody else’s.

Language is one of the elements of culture and identity.  It’s also something that for many Latinos is fluid and constantly changing.  As immigrant Latinos continue to live in the United States, they will find that more English words start sneaking into their daily conversation.  The home culture mixes with the American one and becomes some strange combination that somehow works.  The thing to remember whether you’re an immigrant or a generational latino is that your culture is a unique expression of who you are and from where you came.  This is something to hold up as a source of pride.  Your culture is part of your style—tu estilo.  Live it.  Own it.  It is yours.

Author: Jose A. Rodriguez