My father would always tell me that the history I was learning in class was a lie, I never believed him. I remember the moment specifically when I mentioned to him that we were learning about the war between the US and Mexico and he told me, que no, that it wasn't a war that it was the US stealing land from Mexico and promising them money that was never paid. I never believed him. I was wrong. Public American education taught me that the US forces frolicked into Mexico, while the bandidos and Mexican mercenaries were killing Americans on their own soil. Que mentiras. I looked at my Mexican people with disgusto and embraced the America that allowed me to 'pursue the American dream.' Ofcourse, I should be thankful that the US allowed California into its empire.
However, we were never taught the White supremacist ideologies that bred beneath every word of the Treaty de 1848. The swindling of our beautiful colored mujeres and the lynchings of our hombres. And it continues today: Mexican costumes for halloween accompanied with the botella de tequila for added jokes, but how would you like it if I dressed as a white frat boy yelling "bro, bro"?
My historical amnesia was a 10 three years ago, now its an 8. Each number broken unto the next level towards discovering my ancestral conciencia, has cost me physical/mental/and spritual anxiety. Like scratching away at the sediment of filth that has formed over my brown skin. There, my destiny lies, but it is not lost it is waiting patiently to be uncovered.
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