Are You Sure Your'e Mexican

A blog about being a 3rd generation, bi-racial Mexican American, who doesn't speak Spanish (though I'm learning!) and working with a diverse, inner-city high school population. I have found using the label Mexican-American for myself proposes more challenges than one would think. This blog, in a nutshell, focuses on those challenges.

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Saturday, April 23, 2011

You don't speak Spanish...Are you sure you're Mexican?

  Here is how it usually goes:
Student:  Wait, Mr. Contreraz,  you're Mexican?
Me:  (annoyed that my skin color and surname isn't evidence enough) Yes
Student: Do you speak Spanish?
Me:  No, but I'm learning.
Student:  You're Mexican and you don't speak Spanish?  Why not? (at this point the entire class is listening)
Me:  Because my parents didn't teach me
Student:  Your parents are Mexican?
Me:  Yes, well, my dad is.
Student:  Why didn't he teach you?
Me:  Because his parents didn't speak it too much either. Montana in the 1950's was a MUCH different time and place than now...much less accepting
Student:  (completely ignoring my answer) You don't speak Spanish, your parents don't speak much Spanish...ARE YOU SURE YOU'RE MEXICAN?

  Here's the deal...I recently, after undergoing a barrage of questions from some students about my "Mexicaness," decided I needed to do something with my frustrations.  I saw from a friend on Facebook that she had a blog,of a different sort and I decided this might be a great avenue to deal with this.  When I told my wife about my idea to start this blog, she said, "Why so you can deal with your racial-complex your students cause?"  I laughed out loud (yes I refuse to use LOL), and said, "Yes, if that is what you want to call it." 




<--------------------I look Mexican here right?

  The funny thing is that for along time, I undoubtedly knew I was Mexican.  Well to be fair a Mexican-American.  I guess if you want to know the details, I am a third-generation Mexican-American. Most specifically, I was raised a Montana-Mexican-American.  I promise you, this is a completely different brand of Mexican.  Maybe a watered-down version.    Anywho, for Montana, I was certainly Mexican enough.  I had a big family, I was a Guadalupe-loving Catholic, ate beans and rice for most meals, and had Los Tigres del Norte as a soundtrack to my childhood.

Heck, I was even part of a cultural Mexican dance group lead by my aunt and uncle. How was I supposed to know that speaking Spanish was supposed to be part of the Mexican-package deal (please note that I used the phrase, "Mexican-package!)?
 I guess it wasn't really until I started teaching in a school of largely 1st generation Spanish speaking students (mostly from Mexico and Ecuador), that my Mexcian-ness started being put into question.  I would say, if I get asked whether I know Spanish or if I am really Mexican only once or twice per day, its a pretty damn good day.   
  For those of you asking yourself, is this going to be a forum for me to sit and complain every posting about my students, the answer is, no.  I love my students.  I do need to talk about them however to deal with my issues. But as I unpack this, I think we will find my issues dealing with race go deeper.  Heck, why don't I just lay out my plan for this Blog, that way you, the reader can decide if you feel its worth your while to check-in once-in-a-while.  I will look at my past, my present and my future.  I will look at occurrences from my childhood, as well as my early adulthood.  I will look at events of my present and then try to see how it will makes sense for my future.  Will all my posts be about being Mexican?  I guess in some way or another the answer is "yes."  This will be my therapy, with an added opportunity to practice my witty banter.  Will it get personal?  Maybe.  Will I offend?  Hopefully a little, as "race" is a touchy subject.  However this is the world we live in, and I might as well grab the bull by the horns. 
Sweet pic right?  Its from "Dodgeball."  Great movie by-the-dubs.  If only we could slap a sombrero on Ben Stiller, and turn him into me, grabbing the "race" bull by its horns. 
Well, that does it for my first blog posting. I hope someone other than myself will read this.  Well sort of.  I can see it now. In a little bit, my sister Amy will read this, her judging eyes correcting me on my grammar. But I don't care.  Blogs don't need to be grammatically correct.    Now,I'm off to go and do something Mexican, like steal my neighbor's hubcaps or park my car on my lawn.  Its early, so maybe I will do both.