JE #3A

As a Mexican American, I've always felt both torn and lost on both sides of my cultures. I’ve gone through my fair share of battles with my identity. I've struggled with being too “whitewashed” or, at times, “being too brown” (and these are just some comments made by my own family). Cultural Schizophrenia, to me, is being confused and lost by two different, yet distinct, cultures. I am stuck on top of a fence and I don’t know where to fall but being at the top is conflicting because it’s causing pain and a sense of feeling uneasy. Life isn't black or white, brown or white in this case, but I've had to strive to ensure that I make it through. I struggled a lot with my cultural schizophrenia when it comes to language. Spanish was my first language but, seeing as though my brother was five years older than I was, when he entered elementary school, he struggled since it was an English language school. With that in mind, my mother switched me to English so I wouldn't face the same hardships that my brother had. Language makes the barriers of one’s identity even harder. I was told, growing up, that I wasn't Mexican because my Spanish was less-than-mediocre. Even my own brother would question my mexicanidad by poking fun of my accent and the way I spoke in Spanish. How was I to be Mexican if everyone thought my Spanish was a joke? Then, my Anglo friends would try to get me to speak Spanish or translate something for them. I would try my hardest to get it right but often times, I was just ashamed of myself and tell them I didn’t want to. Others saw me as white, others saw me as brown but I, well, I didn’t know what I saw. It wasn’t until I was older did I start to feel much more comfortable with my Spanish. I moved in with my Spanish-speaking grandmother for many years and that helped me come to terms with myself. Living with my grandmother taught me the importance of knowing that Mexicans and Latinos came in all colors and ethnicities. It was later admitted that my grandmother had a Mexican-born Chinese boyfriend who spoke only Spanish when she lived in Mexico! I couldn’t believe that. I traveled to Mexico City when I was a teen and encountered Mexicans of different kinds of racial backgrounds, speaking Spanish and many didn’t even question them. It soon occurred to me that my cultural schizophrenia was because of the American way of life. American society has plagued me with self-doubt and hatred, never knowing who I was: whether I was Mexican or American. I realized, though, through my trip to Mexico City that I was both. My cultural schizophrenia isn’t as out-of-control and it was when I was younger but it still acts up every now and then. I try my best to control it, find the answers I need, and then it goes way until another crazy crisis of mine comes along.