As Hispanic Heritage Month comes to an end, I’ve reflected on what this month of celebration of Latine history and culture means to me as a mixed-race Mexican American.
Living in the Bay Area, I grew up in a largely Asian American community away from my Mexican American family in Southern California. Connecting with my roots and Mexican heritage was further complicated as a third-generation Mexican American. Then there was the pressure to “choose a side” so I could “fit” in.
However, my experience is not uncommon. According to the 2020 Census data, more than 33 million Americans identify as being two or more races, growing by 25 million in the past decade alone. Multiracial Americans are the “fastest-growing demographic” in the U.S., particularly in California where 19% of residents identify as mixed-race.
Despite the growth of multiracial representation, there is still pressure to put people with complex identities into one “box.” A most recent, notable example is former President Donald Trump questioning Vice President Kamala Harris’ biracial identity at the National Association of Black Journalists when asked if she was a diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) hire, “Is she Indian or is she Black?” This isn’t the first — or last — time multi-racial identities have been questioned; similarly former President Barack Obama was also falsely accused by Republicans of being born in Kenya for years.
This comment hit close to home because mixed-raced people are constantly questioned about their identities, needing to prove they are “enough” of something. In my case, I’ve also felt pressured to prove myself as Latina enough as a “white” presenting person. This Hispanic Heritage Month, however, I’m claiming my Mexican heritage and culture as I’ve lived it.
Hispanic Heritage Month reminds me of watching “Dora The Explorer” as a kid for hours on my Dora Márquez — my Mexican American icon — couch with my sister. Sitting in the backseat of our SUV, listening to my Grandma Chita and my mom speak in Spanish for hours on long car rides.
Buying conchas and tortas con chorizo y huevos at El Super for weekend breakfasts and eating family meals of enchiladas, albóndigas or tamales in my grandparents’ dining room with the Last Supper painting hanging above us. But, by far, my favorite dish is my grandma’s homemade fluffy Mexican rice which never turns out right when I make it.
Most importantly, Hispanic Heritage Month means acknowledging my grandparents’ hard work and sacrifices as immigrants to the US from México in the 1960s, and the many other millions of Mexican immigrants that have come to this country in search of more opportunities and a better life. I wouldn’t be who I am today without them.
In short, I don’t need to prove anything to anyone. This Hispanic Heritage Month I proudly embrace and celebrate my Mexican heritage. Maybe someday I’ll finally learn how to make my grandma’s rice recipe and keep the tradition alive.
