so…tu eres like chicana right?

When you think of a chicano you think of:
-the gang culture
-the look
-“ese”
-make up, alot of make up
-child born in the US of mexican parents who came to work menial jobs.
-a group raising awareness of their roots, the mexican culture, and the mexican contribution to American society.
-kids fighting for their parents rights, many times confused as rebels.

No! I have never identify myself as being Chicano. When people mistake me as a Chicano upsets me more than it should. It’s not even that I have anything against Chicanos, but you need to understand that in the hispanic world there is a big difference between being Mexicano and Chicano.
Let’s start:
Chicano: A person who is born and raised in the US from Mexican parents.
Mexicano: Person born and raised in Mexico who later in life migrated outside Mexico.
So I guess I have a little bit of both but by being raised in Mexico I consider myself a Mexicana….not Chicana.
Living in Mexico I saw people who’s spelling in Spanish was so bad I always thought, how can you be so ignorant or is it really that you don’t care?
Also every time I saw a Juan Perez when I visited the US who didn’t speak Spanish to my standards, I had the urge to slap him until he started speaking proper Spanish. Looking back I can see how judgemental and narrow minded I was.
In my 3.5 years in WA I have been introduced to this new Hispanic world which is a mix of every Latino living here.
A lot of the Chicanos and other Latinos here were not as lucky as me to go to a private bilingual school where I learned to read, write, speak English and Spanish. So of course they wont know how to write some words on English or Spanish. They just as you or me are doing the best they can with the tools they have.
Now lets talk about Juan Perez… My friend Juan Perez he is not trying to be a jerk (most of the time) he just truly never learned Spanish as his parents, never thought about teaching him proper Spanish as they focused on adapting to life in the US and learning English and the ways of life here.
Being Chicano has become a whole identity where sadly people who are not Latinos seem to think we are all the same no matter if you are Colombian, Mexican or Chicano.
While in the Latino community there are big differences, at the end of the day we are all trying to rescue our identity, regardless of where in the Spanish speaking world you hail from.
And now it happens when I go back and visit friends and family in Mexico, well is not always as easy to explain why I say parce instead of wey or if I dare to mistake a word in Spanish or simply not remember someone will always say : “calmate pinche gringa! Apoco ya se te olvido el españoñ?” And start laughing. No they don’t do it to be mean but as I did someday, they don’t realize what it actually means to be Latino in the US.
At the end of the day, here or there we are all fighting for something. No matter if eres like chicano, oh zi ezcrivez like this. Or even si hablas Spanglish, why limit yourself about getting to know someone just because in your jead you have created a stereotype of how certain people are going to be just because somos chicanos…que no

 

IMG_20160401_172719

Cuando piensas en un chicano lo que te viene a la mente es:

-la cultura de las bandas (no se como ponerlo)

– su forma de vestir

-“ese”

-maquillaje, un montón de maquillaje

– un bebé nacido en EUA de padres mexicanos que vinieron en busca de trabajos pesados.

-un grupo de gente creando conciencia de sus raíces mexicanas, y de la contribución que tiene México y su cultura en los EUA

– jóvenes luchando por los derechos de sus padres, muchas veces confundidos por jóvenes rebeldes.

No! Nunca me he identificado como chicana.

Cuando la gente me dice que soy Chicana me molesta, más de lo que debería. Ni siquiera es que tenga algo en contra de los chicanos, pero tienes que entender que en el mundo latino de los EUA existe una gran diferencia entre ser mexicano y ser chicanos.

Empecemos:

Chicano: persona nacida y educada en EUA de padres mexicanos.

Mexicano: Persona nacida y educada en México, que más adelante puede llegar a  emigrar a los EUA u otra parte del mundo.

Así que supongo que tengo un poco de ambos mundos, pero por que crecí en México, yo me considero mexicana… no Chicana.

Cuando vivía en México y veía gente que tenía pésima ortografía en español siempre pensaba, como puedes ser tan ignorante o es que realmente no te importa?

También algo que me molestaba es que cada vez que venía de visita a los EUA y veía a un Juan Pires que no hablaba bien español, tenía la innegable necesidad de azotarlo con un nopal hasta que hablará español como se debe.

Mirando hacia atrás puedo ver que yo era la del problema, con una mente cerrada y juzgando sin saber.

En mis ya casi 4 años en WA he sido introducida a este nuevo mundo latino, el cual es una mezcla de todos los latinos que aquí vivimos.

Muchos chicanos y latinos que viven aquí no corrieron con la misma suerte que yo al poder estudiar en escuelas bilingües en México, donde aprendí a leer, hablar y escribir en inglés y en español. Así que claro que algunos de mis amigos latinos que aun radican acá no saben escribir o leer ya sea inglés o español correctamente. Ellos, como tu y yo hacen lo mejor que pueden con las herramientas que tienen.

Ahora hablemos de Juan Perez….Mi amigo Juan Perez no está tratando de ser un pendejo (la mayoría del tiempo) simplemente el en verdad nunca aprendió español, sus padres nunca pensaron en enseñarle, ya que estaban más preocupados por adaptarse a los EUA y aprender inglés.

Ser chicano se ha vuelto toda una identidad donde tristemente la gente que no es latina, tienden a pensar que todos somos iguales, sin importar si eres colombiano, mexicano o chicano.

Mientras que en la comunidad latina, existen grandes diferencias, ya que al final del día todos aquí estamos tratando de rescatar nuestra identidad que dejamos atrás, sin importar de que parte de latinoamericanos vengas.

Y ahora pasa que cuando voy a visitar a mis amigos y familia en México, pues no es siempre tan fácil explicarles por que digo parce en lugar de wey, y ni se me ocurra confundir una palabra en español o simplemente no recordar dicha palabra, ya que alguien siempre saldrá con su chistesito  :”cálmate pinche gringa! Apoco ya se te olvido el español?” Y se escuchan las risas de fondo. No, yo se que no lo hacen con la intención de lastimar, pero como ellos, yo un tiempo atrás no entendía lo que realmente quiere decir ser latino en EUA.

A final de cuentas, aquí o allá todos estamos luchando por algo. No matter si eres chicano, oh zi ezcrivez like this. Or even si hablas Spanglish, por que limitarse en conocer gente que por un estereotipo que te has creado en la cabeza crees que va ser de una u otra manera, just because somos chicanos…que no?

As life goes on

 

This will be the last time I talk about you, as I don’t regret anything, everything that happened took me to this happy point in my life.

This is the story of him of my exfiance, and how fighting for our American dream made me realize I was in this alone.

I can’t even recall when we started dating or how everything happened, we shared so many happy and great memories, we were a team. Time passed and  I wanted more from life and as it happens in alot of relationships your dreams become his dreams as well.

I have always wanted to come back to the country that I was born in (the US). He wasn’t born here but he lived here in his teen years with an aunt and have always wanted to come back as well…

It was set, we wanted the same dream… He did it the right way you do it in Mexican society, in front of me, with my parents there he asked for my hand in marriage. My parents gave us their blessing and I said yes, I was 24 when I got engaged soon to be 25…

Yes dear, yes to you, yes to our dreams, yes to our future… I am the kind of person that falls in love very easily but I don’t love as easily… and I loved him.

When I came to WA, I came alone he was going to move here by January of 2013 but he ended moving by the end of November 2012. We lived together, but something had changed…

We were not looking at the same direction anymore, I have always thought that if I ever get married is because for good or bad we will make things work, as “we” fight for the same dream, and I guess I’m waiting for that right moment to happen. Maybe the perfect moment doesn’t exist, maybe is in my head but I just new this wasn’t right, he did not wanted to work or help in the house anymore, I came to realize the man I thought I loved was only an idea of what he promised to me but not who I needed to walk with for the rest of my life.

To add to all of this drama his mom and him said they would help paying for the wedding and taking care of his citizenship as getting married with me would give him the possibility to apply for US citizenship. As the time got closer his mom and him expected for me to manage everything and when I asked for any kind of help from my husband to be, he would always say : ” you don’t know how it feels not belonging to this country, you are from here I am not l, what do you expect from me?”  Everytime he said that it hurt me;  as I was born here but I did not belong here either… he is a great man, but he was not the man I saw my life with.

At the end I had to make a decission.I loved him but what happens when love is not enough? Oh God I have never been selfish until I moved to the US and learned to put myself before anyone even if this meant loosing him.

March 5th 2013 that was the day I felt someone ripped my heart of my chest and stabbed it, that was the day he went back to Mexico to never come back..25 days before our wedding date.

Before I broke the engagement, we talked, and he didn’t saw things as I did anymore. We where not looking at the same direction anymore. I had changed the time I was alone in the US; and he had changed the time he was alone in Mexico…

My dear exfiance,  I felt so lost with out you. I felt the biggest reason I have come here to the US was gone, and maybe it wasn’t worth it…

I don’t know what happened in me that made me move on, I am thankful for everything you gave me when we where together, and more thankful with myself for realizing there was more than the eye could meet at that time.

Life goes on and with time and personal growth you realize that better things come along. After you left I was able to live alone, have amazing experiences being single, dating, making new connections, traveling.

And now I beat my odds as I am not only in love but I love the person I found crossing my path about a year ago, we live together we don’t pressure for the future, as we know it will come.

The day you left you broke my heart but you also made me stronger. As I said, I think you are a great person but life decided that I would seek for my American dream alone or with someone else.

Thank you one last time for everything, I hope you are doing well wherever you are, I am…I am living, searching dreaming my American life.

Sincerely

Yvette

2016-03-15-15-56-50
2016-03-15-16-11-45

It was real…I was here

May of 2012, I received an e-mail…it was her.
The sister my dad always told me I had. The sister that lived in the US who had a kid around my age and who when my dad talked about her, you could see his eyes tearing….my sister found me! My sister who didn`t know I was planning to move to California in a couple months.
The story is simple, simple as a Mexican novela: Lets go back to California in the 70’s. A girl was born in a time of confusion when her father wasn’t sure what path in life to take. The baby was named Sandra. He would not be able to raise this beautiful child…16 years passed and as a teen mom she tracked him down. She found out he started a new family with another daughter and he promised himself to always be there for this new little girl, me. Sandy had a surprise of her own for her father, a baby grandson. The babies where very close in age, one year difference, the boy being older than the girl. She was finally able to feel, to talk, to look at her father. He was real now, he was not a ghost anymore, he was there standing next to her. They hugged…Sandy and my father shared a big heart, Sandra wasnt resentful about her baby sister(me). Quite the opposite, she was excited!
My family”s destiny to prosper or fail would be in Mexico not America. My father`s face, his voice, his hugs became a ghost one more time for Sandra…. but Sandy always remembered she had a baby sister, somewhere down in Mexico….

A few years ago the time for me to open my wings and fly had come. California was my first option but there was the possibility of reaching out to my long lost sister. Would she be ready to meet me? What was I to do? I did not know her…all I knew for certain was she was living in Washington state…
Without knowing each other we both took a chance…
August 7th, 2012 is a day I will never forgive. My big sister was not a ghost anymore. She was not a person I dreamed of finding and meeting, she was there, as real as it could be. We stared at each other and saw the imprint of our father. We hugged. I was in Washington…

2016-01-19-10-48-39
FB_IMG_1453102594640
Mayo del 2012, recibí un correo electrónico… era ella. La hermana mayor que mi papá decía que tenía. La hermana que vivía en Estados Unidos, que tenía un hijo mas o menos de mi edad, y de la cual cuando mi papa me contaba de ella, lo decía con tristeza en sus ojos…Mi hermana me encontró! Mi hermana que no sabía que tenía planeado mudarme a California en un par de meses. La historia es sencilla, tan sencilla como una telenovela: Regresemos el tiempo a los 70’s en California. Una niña había nacido en un tiempo muy confuso para su padre, ya que el no sabía que camino tomar en la vida.
La niña de nombre Sandra, la cual su padre no podría tener el honor de criar…16 años pasaron, Sandra lo habia buscado por mucho tiempo y al fin lo encontró, su padre como ella vivia en California, ironicamente no tan lejos el uno del otro. Ella se entero que él había empezado otra familia, que  ya tenía otra hija con la promesa de siempre estar ahí para esta nueva bebe. Sandy también tenía una sorpresa que contar , el no era solo padre, ya también era abuelo. Su nueva hija y su nieto tenían casi la misma edad, el nieto siendo un año mayor que la niña. Sandy por fin tenía la oportunidad de sentir, de hablar, de mirar a su padre. Él por fin era real, ya no era un fantasma, él estaba ahí parado frente a ella, se abrazaron.
Si algo tienen en común Sandy y mi papa es un corazón de oro, ella no le guardo recentimiento por su nueva bebe (yo). Al contrario,estaba emocionada!
Por cosas del destino, mi familia se fue a vivir a México. La voz de mi padre y sus abrazos, se volvieron un fantasma nuevamente para Sandra… pero ella siempre recordó que tenía una hermana menor, viviendo en algún lugar de México.
Hace poco más de 3 años, mi tiempo para volar del nido había llegado. California era mi primer opción pero existía la posibilidad de reencontrarme con Sandra en Washington. Estaría ella lista para conocerme? Que habría yo de hacer? Yo no la conocía, en lo absoluto… Lo único que sabía era que vivía en Washington. Sin conocernos bien, tomamos el riesgo…
7 de agosto del 2012, un día que nunca olvidaré. Mi hermana mayor ya no era un fantasma,ni una persona a la que fantasiaba encontrar y conocer, estaba ahi, frente a mí. Nos quedamos mirando fijamente, viendo rasgos de mi papá la una en la otra. Nos abrazamos, ya estaba en Estados Unidos.