Latina Mislabeled

Photo credit: Denise Ramos

Latinx/Hispanic Heritage month recently passed and it had me thinking back on my identity throughout the years.

As a Transracial Adoptee, my Mexican identity has always been questioned. I am a curly-headed girl, with light skin and almond-shaped eyes. Unlike the low percentage of Mexicans who went to school with me, who had straight hair, spoke Spanish, and had dark skin. It was clear I was nothing like them. And everyone could see it.

I liked my ambiguity at first - it meant I was mysterious. In school, I would tell people I was Egyptian and they would believe me. Most people mistake me for being Asian, so there was a period of time I would let people think I was Filipino because I liked the idea of being an islander. I played the role of being a chameleon; not realizing the toxicity of what I was doing in allowing people to mislabel me.

“I played the role of being a chameleon; not realizing the toxicity of what I was doing in allowing people to mislabel me.”

As I got older, I wanted to be seen as Latina, but many people openly doubted the authenticity of my ethnicity, because of my foster care background. “Social services gets that stuff wrong” people have said as if they could know more about the system I came from, more than me. My ex-boyfriend’s mother was especially adamant that I was really Asian. She doubted my adoption papers were accurate and suggested my race might have been guessed. She vehemently believed I was Korean, of all things! Which is ironic, because I left her son and ended up with a Korean man.

“No one can take away my ancestry.”

I mailed my spit over to 23&Me a couple of years ago to get validation on what I always knew to be true. Sure enough, it showed I was a mix of Spanish and Native genealogy. I wish I could go and track down everyone who doubted my background and show them the report. Or introduce them to my Mexican birth family, I have since discovered. But now that I have evidence of my origin, I don’t care what other people think. No one can take away my ancestry.

I have noticed many generational Americans don’t care to know their ancestry and openly voice this. But I’ve always believed that it's a privilege to not care where you come from. I am a daughter of an American woman, with southern heritage. I am also a first-generation American daughter of an immigrant woman. I will not erase the Mexican heritage that belongs to me.

There is space for both.

They both matter to me.

And it’s not for anyone to agree or disagree with.