Rubio vs Castro: What Makes You Latino?

Now that the political theater of the conventions is over, the commentary keeps plowing on from: who got their message out, who motivated their base the most, and, oh so importantly, which party had the best (read: most) Latino representative.

I’ve complained in the past about demographers insisting that the Latino Vote is a monolith.  Insisting that Latinos swear political allegiance to only one party is just a different way to stereotype, as far as I’m concerned.  And recent polling shows Latinos shifting to become independent voters in droves.

My favorite claim in this comes from the right wing insistence that Rubio is “more Latino” than Castro because he is fluent in Spanish.  Funny how the party that insists we wetbacks learn English would tout the retention of language as a key component to being fully Latino.

My Spanish is terrible.  My parents didn’t prize keeping language and any native language acquisition I would have gained died with my maternal grandmother when I was six years old.  I feel like I would have had more opportunity if I had language beyond a 5 year old.  I insist that my daughters learn Spanish because it will make them better people and better citizens.

But lack of language has not made me less of a Latina.  It has not severed my ties from my family or my culture.  I am a bridge from one world to the other with or without Spanish.  Do I think I might be a more effective bridge with language? Yes.  It’s something I question quite a bit.  Something I struggle with personally.  The thing about a bridge is that it’s not on one side or the other – it is by definition in between, a conduit for movement from one side to the other.

Is 20 Years Enough?

I attended my 20 year high school reunion this weekend.  It was crazy and more than a little surreal.  High school is such a strange transitional time.  You move from barely being a teenager to almost being an adult, with none of the self-directed growth you can do in college.  Basically, you are thrown together with a lot of people you probably would never have chosen.  And all together, you must survive four years of education that will shape the rest of your life.

I was a high school misfit.  I think most of us are.  For most people, it is the first chance we have to play at being adults.  We play at relationships and personality traits the same way we play at make-up and hair styles, trying things on for fit.  If you are lucky, you find a group of people who accept you as you are (or as you are pretending to be on that day), and you learn and grow and morph and run away to college.

For me, those people were in theater.  Our drama troupe was called Company and we were largely a group of people who just didn’t fit anywhere else.  I think many Company members walked in several circles and really, isn’t it the nature of drama that we can be chameleons?  I never felt like I had a lot of ability to move around socially when I was in high school, and I wouldn’t say that it was all wine and roses, but I had good friends across many years and I had really hoped to see some of them this weekend.

Nope.  Most of the folks I really liked in high school, those I was closest to, were not at the reunion.  That’s the other thing about arty types, we’re not really joiners.  So, I had a couple of glasses of wine, a couple of surprising conversations, and left with my husband, my oldest friend, and my dignity.

The Wrong Kind of Brown

Followers will know that Deldelp Medina and I have a session submission in to SXSW.

One of the things that SXSW is very clear about is that your session should answer 5 questions that you need to articulate before you can submit.  The five questions we came up with are these:

1. Why isn't our generation of Latinos considered exceptional?
2. How do we become visible in the media landscape without being reduced to the lowest common denominator?
3. How will bi-culturalism replace bi-lingualism for our children; what can we gain and what are we afraid to lose?
4. Are we the wrong kind of brown when it comes to entrepreneurship?
5. Why do we hold onto our cultural baggage: racism, misogyny, & homophobia?

We developed these questions out of our own experiences.  These are conversations that happen in living rooms and bars when smart, thoughtful people get together; but, the conversation isn't happening in a larger forum where it belongs.

This past Monday, a paper was presented from the University of Cincinnati called  "Who "They" Are Matters: Researchers Assess Immigrant Stereotypes And Views On Immigration".  Turns out, sociologists have done some research on the topic and indeed, we ARE the wrong kind of brown when it comes to entrepreneurship.  Americans have a decidedly negative view of latinos and feel that we are a drain on the economy, even though we build businesses and contribute more than we take away.  Again, the facts don't matter here, only the Fox news-branded perception.

So what changes these small-minded perceptions?  Clearly not facts.  I think it is personal experience.  Do you know a smart latino?  Maybe you don't think of that person as an immigrant?  I grew up in a middle class suburb.  Do I "act" like a latino?  What would you think about me if you met me on the street?  One of the reasons this study is so compelling is that they purposefully took a group of people from Ohio, a place where the immigrant and latino populations are far below the national average, a place where people could reasonably be expected to NOT have any day to day contact with either a latino or an immigrant.  Guess who shapes those views in the absence of experience?

I have no silver lining today.  I'm just annoyed.  It's one thing to think or feel something.  It's quite another to have it proven to you that people you've never met think that you and your children are worthless.

Help us bring this conversation into the light of day.  Vote for us here, the process is kind of a pain, but we'd be very appreciative!

Welcome Back to Public (Private) School

I went to Catholic school from K-12, so when Miss Thing started at our local public school last year, there were a number of things that didn’t really phase me that seem to give folks a lot of consternation.

First, I don’t really worry about what teacher she is going to get.  There was only ever one class at each grade for me from K-8, so there was no choice.  Maybe I just haven’t been at this school long enough to have opinions about the teachers, but in life, we all have to work with people we like and people we don’t.  Learning to navigate personalities is a part of learning how to be in the world.

Second, was the amount of money we ended up shelling out to supplement the school staffing and curriculum.  This was largely to two entities, our local education foundation and the PTA.  My parents paid a lot of money in tuition for my private education, and then always were required to commit another 40 hours per year in volunteer time. Shelling out close to $1000 to make the education work didn’t really strike me as odd, at first.

Like any parent with the time and resources to do so, I have done my best to be engaged in Miss Thing’s classroom and her school.  I began attending PTA meetings last September to better understand the work this organization does on behalf of our school.  I learned that the PTA and our local educational foundation fund science, technology, music, art, and library time.  The public school my daughter attends is highly functional, but what makes it work is the sheer volume of resources the PTA and the local education foundation are able to pour into these programs and salaries.  Programs that are fundamental to basic education and future entry into the rapidly shifting job market.

We do not acknowledge that California schools that succeed do so because of this kind of private investment.   And what can be incredibly frustrating about the PTA is constantly hearing how glad people are to live in the district and how thrilled teachers are to have such substantial parental involvement, as if this involvement is purely a matter of choice.  But this level of investment is not available to all parents and students, not out of a lack of desire or care, but due to socioeconomic factors that result in a lack of access to the time and capital that must be invested to make a modern public school function in this political and economic climate. 

Our school is a public/private partnership.  Without the substantial private funding that supplements the budget, our school would not work.  While I applaud my school district and parents for making our school work, it is shortsighted to imagine that our society will succeed unless all our children have the same access to high quality public education.  Our society cannot thrive while large populations of students and communities are cast off.  

Education cannot be a policy afterthought, nor should it be allowed to fall into disrepair in order to make it easier to privatize schools.  If our policy makers are serious about securing our economic future, full & free public education should be available to every community.  Not just those who can afford it.

SXSW Really? Yes.

I recently developed a proposal for SXSW with Deldelp Medina, one of the smartest people I know.  If you knew my friends, you would know that this is really saying something.  Our proposal is about the confluence of stereotypes that keeps people like us – Latinos of our generation – out of leadership, power and influence.  You can read more about it at the SXSW panel picker.

Family and friends keep asking why.  Why this, why here, why now.

1. Representation.  My views and perspective, in all their complicated glory, are not out there.  I don’t see or hear anyone like me when I turn on the TV or radio. 
2. Discourse.  My views ARE complicated and complex.  I think this is true for most people in this country and we do ourselves a disservice by buying into the way we play politics from a divisive single-issue perspective. 
3. Leadership.  I have been working my way into leadership in so many aspects of my life and it can be a struggle.  This is one way to take it.  And truthfully, it’s the hardest part because it involves a kind of self-promotion that I struggle with and thought I left behind a long time ago.

So, check out our proposal: From Dot Com-y to Altmamí.  If you like it, vote for us. 

Join our conversation on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/altmamis

You can also follow us on Twitter @smbrowngirl and @deldelp

If you want to hear from Deldelp, check her out http://latinainca.tumblr.com

What Is a Soul?

Sitting down to dinner tonight and the following exchange greeted me:

Miss Thing:  Mommy, is a soul blue?  What is a soul?

The Husband:  I want to hear the answer to this…

Me (taking my time chewing to try to compose something of a satisfactory answer to my 6 year old daughter):  No, I don’t think a soul is blue.  Some people think that a soul is the thing that makes people different from animals.  A soul lets us think, reason, and love.

Miss Thing:  Is that all?

Me:  That’s enough.  A soul is what lets us love.  Without a soul, you wouldn’t be able to love mommy.

Kisses and a quick snuggle and then dinner returned to all its mundane glory.  In the kitchen I asked The Husband what he thought of my answer, and he told me I deserved a philosophy prize…something like The Cracked Nut.

What is a soul?  If my daughter was older, I would tell her it is a spark of divinity.  The eternal within all of us – the thing that is unbreakable, that animates our poor carcasses of flesh for this all too brief sojourn.   As I think about it now, I wonder what is divinity, what can it possibly be BUT love?

Once in a while, mommy gets it right.  Now where is that Cracked Nut award?

Ritual of Love

This week, I went to Children’s Hospital in Oakland to witness my 13 year old god-daughter Ariel’s First Holy Communion. I first wrote about Ari on this blog here, and if you want her complete story, you should see the Caring Bridge site her mom maintains.

Ariel’s story is hers, and not mine, so I will simply say that in her quest to make some sense and gain some understanding of this phase of her life – up against the ravages of an aggressive and deadly disease –she decided it was time to make her First Holy Communion. For those of you non-Catholics, this is the sacrament that defines Catholicism from every other Christian faith. Catholics believe that in the sacrament of the Eucharist, the bread and wine trans-substantiate into the literal body and blood of Jesus Christ. A miracle occurs every time we are together. We invoke our Holy Lord to come and be present with and within us.

So we gathered. Ariel, Crystal-her mother, Beverly-her grandmother, Elena-my mother, and I were met by Sister Bernice who guided us all through a simple and focused ritual that made Ari a closer part of this spiritual community.

Beverly brought Ari a communion veil and small crown of flowers that were made for her own mother. She brought a picture of her mother in 1929 and one of herself, each on the day of their own First Holy Communion. I joked that the veil was still intact and hadn’t spontaneously combusted since it never sat on Crystal’s fiery red head. Beverly told us that she had spent weeks making Crystal’s communion dress, but when she put the dress together with the veil, its age made it look dingy against the bright, crisp white of the new fabric. She was too afraid of ruining the fabric to bleach it, so she made a new veil and did her best to replicate the floral crown – Crystal remembers her mother working in frustrated detail on that crown.

Our joking complete and a few pictures snapped, Sister Bernice called us together to begin the ritual. She told us about how Jesus celebrated a special meal with his disciples and why the host is flat and not bread-like at all. She spoke of communion as a reminder that Jesus loves us. She told us that the disciples had asked Jesus what God was like, and that Jesus could have said anything – He could have told them that God is a judge or that God is punitive, but Jesus described God as Father (and since God is sexless, as Mother, too), loving and caring, full of compassion for his children. We formed a circle, held hands and recited the Our Father/Mother together. We all took communion.

Sister Bernice reminded Ariel that the Eucharist is available to her whenever she needs to be reminded of that love and hold it from the inside out. Then, in a close circle around Ariel’s hospital bed, we all extended our right hands and blessed Ariel. This circle of women, of matriarchs, blessed this child so she would not be afraid and so that she would see and feel that we are here – and that God is here with her, always.

It has been a long time since I have participated in such a perfect religious ritual. I am reminded that ritual has purpose and meaning. We were not going through any motions. Ari needed to know that God is on her side and is holding her – whatever else is happening to her right now. My own prayer for Ariel is that she can know that there is a spark of the divine within her, a spark that was there from the moment of her birth that will continue on into eternity. I want her to know that love is powerful and transcendent and that there is no God but love. I want her to feel that the love and strength she holds is more powerful than death and that she does not need to fear what may come. I hope she knows that her Auntie Heidi is here, by her side and in her heart forever.