In one of my English courses this past school year, we were supposed to write a short non-fiction story about anything we wanted but it had to be relatable in some way. Being an English-Creative Writing major, I am surprisingly very terrible at writing short stories, especially non-fiction ones. I dreaded doing this assignment because I had no idea what I could write about and how to make it relatable in some way. I didn't know that many people who came from across the country to come to little ol' Slippery Rock nor did I know many people who understood what that struggle entitled. One day, literally the day before the assignment was due and while I sat on bed staring at the blank Word document, I was scrolling through Twitter and something came up about a turtle. It was just a random tweet someone had posted about their pet turtle but it gave me an idea. I wrote about the turtles that can live both in water and on land, but they are so sure about their place in their world. When we had to read our short stories in class to our small groups, it was pretty obvious no one had a clue where I was going with the turtles, until I began talking about how I was similar to the turtle, but I wasn't sure where my place was in the world.
Being Hispanic and growing up in Los Angeles, I thought I knew where my place was because almost everyone I knew was Hispanic and I fit into my comfort zone so well that it never occurred to me that I haven't found where I belong yet. When I came to Slippery Rock a million years ago, I found very quickly that I wasn't just Hispanic, I was labeled Mexican-American. I was put into two different categories that were at odds with each other but I was expected to somehow fit into both places. It was difficult to find my place in both these categories because sometimes I was too "Mexican" to be considered American, and sometimes I was too "American" to be Mexican. I was pushed and shoved into both titles and it was hard trying to fit in. If I met someone and they asked what my ethnicity was I would say that I was Hispanic but I could see in their minds they saw me as Mexican-American.
I had to literally be two things at once and finding that balance is hard especially when certain expectations are supposed to be met. Eventually I decided that I was both Mexican and American and I was good enough to be both. Being Mexican-American means still celebrating American traditions but adding a little Mexican twist to it. Celebrating Thanksgiving means having the biggest turkey possible to feed so many people, but it also means having birria, pozole, tamales, and more food than a person can eat in one sitting. If I meet someone for the first time, I'll still say that I'm Hispanic mostly because that's how I identify myself but if someone were to ask me if I was Mexican-American, I'm not embarrassed or unsure anymore to say that I am because I am the best of both worlds.
