Okay so maybe working at the donut shop has given me things I never really thought about before. As far as I was concerned I:
A) hate checking off anything that says "Latino /Hispanic (not white )" and usually refuse to.
B) I have always Identified myself not by the last name Martinez, but by my first name.
I am Zadie, it was supposed to be Sadie. My parents didn't tell me til I was, like 12. I accepted this as the stage that set the majority of the mishaps that comprise my life.
Now, being Mexican, I thought meant being Catholic and having a quincenera (sp?) and celebrating other holidays, And being super fluent in Spanish.
Well growing up a Jehovah's witness, you don't get holidays. Holidays make up a good portion of culture. So That's out. Growing up in southern Indiana wasnt exactly the hub of diversity so needless to say there were multiple times I was asked "how do you say taco?" by my classmates. And no, they didn't believe my answer.
"Taco."
It was important we knew English and as long as when mom is pissed and speaking to us in Spanish is completely understood, That's all that mattered. So now, my spoken Spanish sucks.
That's a beautiful childhood story, I know. We fast forward to now and all my presumably Mexican customers hate me. Women mostly, one imparticular talks quickly and orders things I have to make special, I swear It's to throw me off. Her name is "Dulce " and I can't get over the contradiction of her bitchiness and her name. Old men dont like me either and the older kids kind of laugh at my spanish and switch to English.
The nicest are men with little girls between 4-13. I dont know if that means anything.
Now if all these people are pleased to the max when the white man learns one word in Spanish, yet I learn a new word every day and remember how they take their coffee or go out of my way to make them something and still acceptance level stays at zero.
I Dont want to be accepted by a large group of people that have rejected me. I guess I'd just like to know why.
I remember moving to Texas for the first time as a kid and other students trying to decide if I was Mexican or not. Then talking amongst themselves to see who would ask me what question in Spanish to see if I answered. This was the cherry on top of being an ugly, awkward kid.
Am I a bad person for being happy most of these people already have a litter of children?
Nah.
So aside from childhood trauma (ha!)
My looks aren't an obvious que to who I am. If there are pale skinned, brown/blond haired, big boobied actresses on Univison, freaking Premier Impacto station, then who is my short, dark and plump regular customer to ask me where I'm from?
"Indiana."
"No. What about your mom "
"Mexico "
"What part?"
"Monterrey "
"No...your dad? "
"Texas"
"No..."
The fuck? Who made these people the damn "policia" on who's who? Get off my nutsack and go tend to your offspring. Trust me you and your daughter have enough kids to worry about, without questioning me about my lack of.
So now I'm obsessed with whats all up in my gene pool to make me and my siblings look the way we do. DNA testing isn't cheap so a lot of thought and research and a little soul searching is happening. And other than being irritated my whole life, its not that I particularly care any more about "being Mexican " than I did when I was a kid, I don't see anything has changed except the same type of kids that questioned me back then grew up to question me now, or I met their judgemental parents/cousins /aunts .
I do care about finding out what makes a Zadie.
I'm sure it'll be much better than the story of how my drugged up mom wrote an "s" backwards and thus a "Z" was born.
(Okay I was born first and then ^ that happened. Same difference, right? )
