என் ஊர் My Native Place

Recently I've been thinking about nationality and what it means for me to be American.  See, there's no possible way you can walk around here without being asked the inevitable question, where are you from?  And while most people from the U.S. will have it pretty easy (unless you speak with an accent, if you are white people will assume you are from the states) because of my ambiguous looks I am constantly getting this question.

              When I answer, I'm from the U.S. , they look at me like they aren't quite sure what that means.  I've thrown them for a loop; what with my dark hair, my dark eyes, and brown skin I am anything but the poster child of America, despite the fact that "minorities" (i.e. brown people) more than make up the majority.  It doesn't help that I tell them I'm teaching Japanese at a woman's college but it does give them a starting point for their next question.

               "Are your parents from Japan?" 

               No siree bob, there is not a single drop of Japanese blood in my veins.  Or Chinese, or Thai, or Nepalese, or Tibetan, or Arabic.  Those are just a few of the many guesses that tend to pop up.  In fact one (drunk) Arabic guy kept following me around slurring, "But you are the most beautiful Arabic woman I have ever seen!"  Somehow my repeated protests of 'I'm MEXICAN' didn't make it past the beer haze.  But then I suppose that's my fault for trying to correct a drunk. 

               The point is people tend to guess everything under the sun except for what I am, Mexican-American.  And what does that even mean?  Do I hold two nationalities?  Nope.  Am I more Mexican than American? Well if I went down to Mexico I'm sure they would make fun of me for my funny spanish.  Yet here in the U.S. it's naturally assumed my parents are immigrants and thus I only have my birth to prove my true "heritage" (despite the fact that Mexicans have been in the Americas for far longer than our European-bred American citizens, we are still being told to go home.  Ahem, we ARE home, that's the joke).  Abroad this idea is even more implicit which is why I can never simply say I'm American. 

No Jazmin, where are you REALLY from?   

Where am I really from?  Well to be perfectly honest I have no idea.  I think the movie Selena put it best (sorry but I'm taking it there). 

               "We have to be more Mexican than the Mexicans, and American than the Americans, because our home is right next door."      

               This has always resonated with me.  I know that it's not like there are people running around constantly telling us to prove our culture but I couldn't help feeling like I was never good enough for either group.  This is made even worse when I run into non-native Spanish speakers whose Spanish is more grammatically correct than mine and never fail to spell a word in Spanish correctly.  I can't help but feel an immediate dislike and anger towards them that I know is completely irrational.  I want to scream at them, pull their hair, spit at them and protect my country because as hard as they study they'll never have the ancestry that exists in the blood beneath my skin.  For some reason I feel I have to protect that heritage, yet I know I'm being a hypocrite.  Here I am teaching Japanese despite the fact that I'm not Japanese myself.  Just like those non-native Spanish speakers will never know what it's like to wake up to your parents blasting Vicente Fernandez in the early morning with the smell of burning chiles itching your throat, I will never know what it's like to be Japanese and all that goes with it. 

              

               I realize this all goes back to issues dealing with my heritage and what it means to be a Mexican-American; I still remember coming home from school telling my parents I didn't want to speak Spanish anymore because all the kids in class kept making fun of my brother and me.   I regret that moment more than any other in my life and I don't know who to hate more.  Those kids who laughed at us when we answered questions in Spanish or myself for letting it get to me. 

               Another part of this probably has to do with my difficulties in interacting with my abuelitos.  My abuelo who speaks both English and Spanish I never had a problem with, but with my abuela who only speaks Spanish I always felt like I was missing out on a closer relationship.  I wanted so badly to be able to communicate with her yet whenever my family and I spent time in Vegas I immediately became tongue-tied and nervous.  It was like I was being cross-examined by my own family and if I failed it meant I should be kicked out, although this was an absolute falsity only existing in my mind.

               You might be wondering why on earth I'm discussing this on a blog meant to be about India.  But it is in fact India that has re-awoken this turmoil inside of me.  Every time someone asks that dreaded question, "Where are you REALLY from?" I revert back to that angry child who wants to claw someone's eyes out.  The simple answer is, I don't know.  For the past 4 years I've been spending at least 2 of them abroad and the more I think about it the more I realize I might not find myself gravitating back to the U.S. anytime soon.  Do I really belong there even though so many of my fellow citizens would be more than happy to see me gone? 

               Do I belong to Mexico, a country that I've not spent more than a few weeks at a time in?  In government-terms that would be a definite no.  Even culturally, how could I say that Mexico is my native place despite never having had the chance to experience life there?  I am simply floating in a limbo of nationalities.  My passport say's American but my skin say's otherwise. Perhaps this is what globalization does to us in the end, simply scatters us to the point where we can't recognize ourselves any longer.

               The other reason I've become so introspective is because if I'm not truly a Mexicana than that means I'm simply American and that terrifies me more than anything else in the world.  In India they are constantly telling me there is a reason for everything they do.  There is a reason for the bindi, it cools the forehead (and in a place like Madurai you can bet every little thing helps); there's a reason they wear their anklets and a reason why they wear gold.  They don't just do these things because it's the cool thing to do but because their history has taught them.  They know how to utilize the heat to their advantage and what the best meals are to cook and so on and so forth.  America simply doesn't have that; partially because we are too young but also because we are so incredibly diverse there's no way we can decide on one heritage.  That's why we hyphenate everything, Mexican-American, Indian-American, Italian-American, we need some kind of identifier so we know how to categorize people.   

               But you see I want that lineage.  I need those ancestors and all the collective knowledge they've gained because without it I'm nothing but a blip.  I need something to teach to those who come after me and a firm identity in which to stamp them with.  And if I don't belong to Mexico and I don't belong to the U.S. then where do I belong?

               Perhaps this is why I am constantly on the move, always wanting to see as many new cities as possible.  I'm subconsciously searching for the place I feel a connection with and now I understand that's how I've viewed languages.  I've never wanted to learn languages that I have no interest in.  For example people kept telling me to learn Chinese but I had no desire to do so despite how beneficial it might have been.  I wanted to learn Japanese because for some reason or another something about it resonated with me.  The sound was familiar and comforting.  Maybe I'm waiting for someone to ground me to one country, I'm not sure.  I suppose I'll just have to keep searching and hope that someday that search takes me back home a mi gente.