For the privacy of those included in this article, their names haven changed.
This past Saturday I took it upon myself to go into Town to have my nail polish removed from my finger nails. My sisters and I tend to frequent this nail salon not only for its convenience but we happen to love several of the young women who work there. We have been going there since we were teenagers; therefore, we have come to pick up on some of their Spanish dialects. Unlike other places, these women take great pride in wanting to get to know you and making you feel relaxed. There is no such thing as “awkward silence” in this place. Anyhow, this Saturday I had the pleasure of meeting an incredibly interesting woman, and for this article, we shall call her Luna.
As I sat there staring out of the large windows of the salon, I felt myself settling into what most people would have thought to be a dismal day but I somehow took comfort in the churning grey skies almost waiting in anticipation for the first raindrop to fall to the pavement below. Luna caught me staring and we both began a polite conversation as to the impending weather and thus concluded it had something to do with Hurricane Matthew which was taking place on the Southern half of the East Coast. It wasn’t until she had begun to take the polish off my nails that she took notice of the ring sitting on my right ring finger, now mind you I had been wearing two other rings but this was the ring she decided to tell me she thought was beautiful. My Claddagh ring was given to me on my eighteenth birthday, a simple silver band with a set of hands holding a heart that bore a crown. She admired it for a little bit and after a couple of seconds, I told her that the Claddagh ring I wore was because I am Irish. I explained to her why the heart was facing outwards and what it meant if it wasn’t and after explaining that to her it seemed as though it made her love the ring even more. I explained to her that in my family the women are the ones who have the last say in any and all matters, which she explained to me was the opposite in her culture.
Before long we were both pulling out pictures of our families, sitting across from this beautiful dark haired, dark eyed, caramel skin toned beauty I couldn’t help but show my astonishment as she showed me a picture of her father and her grandfather sitting side by side. Glancing down at the two fair skinned, blue eyed, curly haired gentlemen she laughed out loud telling me that yes, they are in fact her family. Luna told me of how she was originally from Mexico, she said that the reason for their appearance was a result of the breeding amongst Spain and Mexico. I will not lie to you I could not help but continuously glance up from the picture to Luna, how on earth can they be so different, yet still the same?
It wasn’t long until Luna lifted her gaze to mine and asked me if I was sure that I myself was not Hispanic. I laughed shyly, informing her that if I was it was news to me. “You look just like my cousin”, she said. She pulled out another picture sliding it out in front of me, now before I go any farther I want everyone to know that I definitely have a twin in Mexico, which is new news to me. I went into the salon to get my nail polish removed and I left feeling thoroughly relaxed but also intrigued.
The United States of America has been commonly referred to as The Melting Pot. I align myself with my Irish Heritage because it is the heritage that agrees most with my values but in fact, I am Italian, Polish, Danish, French, German, Irish, and Native American. I am a Mutt, I am an American. I am a million things and then I am one. Very few of us are pure, very few of us are just one thing or let alone two. Yet we define ourselves by which heritage appeals to us. I don’t know if it’s wrong to define ourselves by only one piece and not all. What I do know is that I was born in the United States of America, I have lived here my entire life and although I may not always stay here, I am an American. I believe that we all have a tendency to overlook every part of who we are and we tend to alienate ourselves by the use of labels and definitions. Labels and definitions mind you that were created on bias and in some circumstances completely invalid. We quite literally are The Melting Pot, we are everything and everyone, not by our choices but by the choices of those before us.
I am a million things and then I am one.
-The Mutt
