Being a White Passing Minority in America

 "Passing" By Langston Hughes (Read By Jason Williams)

    Growing up, I believed that I was white because I had lighter skin than the rest of my family. I never fully understood this, but I do know that I didn't want to accept the Hispanic side of me because it felt wrong. It felt wrong to try and say that I was Hispanic when I didn't look like it, especially in school. All the time I would hear that I was special because I was able to hang out with both the rich white kids and the Mexicans. It never felt right when people would say this to me, but I went along with it anyway because that's what they told me. I remember watching other girls post pictures of their birthday parties and get togethers and noticing that every girl there was not of color. I can remember constantly being told that I wasn't tan enough to be seen as Hispanic, so I never fully accepted my culture. Year after year, my Spanish teachers would try to teach me about my heritage, but I never listened to them because I felt as though I wasn't Hispanic enough to learn. I would walk the hallways of my school believing I was white because everyone told me I was, but no one ever knew the true story of my background. They never knew that both of my grandfathers were born and raised in Mexico, or that on Saturdays, my family would get together to enjoy some of the best Mexican cuisines. The never knew that my family would dance to cumbias and music that only spoke the language of Spanish. They never saw a waitress become frustrated at my grandfather because his accent was too thick for her to understand that he was simply saying "hamburger." They never saw my family drive six hours to cross a border to see my abuelita in Mexico, and the border control automatically assume we were there for tourism. They never saw the looks I would gain from other people when they found out I was a non-Spanish speaking Hispanic. They never heard the endless corrections of my last name, or the constant confusion of explaining my own background. They never lived a life of being a white passing minority in America. It's an odd situation to be in because I still to this day want to be an advocate for Hispanics and other minorities of this nation, but people often assume I'm white and don't have a say. People like to tell me that I don't understand the life of being poor or unfortunate because of my passing, but little did they know that my family survived off of food stamps and sharing one meal between four people for years. They assume that because I am lighter skinned than the rest of my family, I demand privilege. What they don't understand is that I have worked hard to be where I am. My ancestors have faced many troubles for me to be where I am. I know my place as a white passing Hispanic in this nation, but I will not let anyone tell me that I don't understand what it is like to be part of my culture. I will not let anyone tell me that I don't deserve the life I have been given. Yes, I am white passing, and yes, I understand that this offers me more than normal. However, I do not take advantage of this because it is simply not fair. I should not receive any more treatment than my cousins who watch as I am one of the first in my family to make it this far in college. This world should not be based on the "privileges" that we received because of our skin tones. No. This world should be based on the heart, soul, and dedication you put to make sure that you are doing what makes you successful in your own eyes.