As the Spanish started to settle the colony of New Spain, they needed a large workforce to cater to the ever growing demands of the agricultural environment and general household. The Spanish started to bring Africans to Mexico to fill the labor demand, but in doing so they started to create a new population demographic which would become the majority rather than the minority. Yet, Afro-Mexicans would remain a minority compared to the superior Spanish based on discourses of control and subordination. Africans in Colonial Mexico takes the study of African Diaspora to a new level by examining the creation of the “Afro-Mexican” identity through creolization and community development form those who first came to the colonies to their descendents. Instead of developing an identity through the institution of slavery, Africans built a hybrid identity by incorporating aspects of Spanish culture into their lives. Clear examples, ranging from population demographic to conversions of Christianity, developing communities and cultural shifts demonstrate how Africans worked from within system to create their own identity.…
I talked to my great grandmother, on my moms side, and asked her many questions about our ancestors. "Most of the generations I know about have lived in New Mexico. Usually when people ask us we say Spain because we know our ancestors didn't come from Mexico. I'd say Spain" she said word for word. I also asked her how long ago they came and she didn't know so I assume they came a long time ago.…
As a minority, immigrating from Korea to a wildly different country like the United States has been the most influential decision that my family made to live the possibility of the "American Dream". Moreover, growing up as an Asian-American wasn’t simple; I was faced with the challenge of malicious racial slurs, spiteful judgment, and condemnation. However, through these criticism, I’ve grown to understand that our response to those judgements is what builds character in which has made me more transparent, vulnerable, and empathetic.…
The mantra, "breathe in your nose and out your mouth," was the only thing running through my head as I attempted to complete the last half mile of my first cross-country meet, and at least it was running. I on the other hand, was not. I had started the race completely confident in my ability to run three miles, but after a grueling two and a half laps of tripping over tree roots, splashing through mud, and struggling over an enormous hill that marked the last quarter of the lap, I was just ready to go home and take a shower. When my feet crossed onto the threshold of the track where the finish line was positioned, I observed quite a few things. One, the conspicuous red timer was flashing numbers well into the mid-forties range. Two, at least half of the buses in the parking lot seemed long gone. My third and final realization did not occur to me until after I crossed the finish line. As I came to a stop near the water cooler, it finally dawned on me that I had concluded the race in last place.…
But there is one thing, that, my family don't know about me. It's that i became a man in front of them and they don't think about it!.…
I am Mexican in the 21st century. Many who just look at me couldn’t tell you so. Being Mexican is a part of me cast aside by others, as if my culture, my very essence, is a pebble among stones.…
The year I turned six, my mom decided to migrate to Mexico. However, she was not able bring my one year old sister along. While my little sister stayed with my grandparents, my mom and I flied out to Mexico. I still remember the feeling in my stomach the moment I stepped out of that airport. I was an ocean away from my hometown. My first day of school was chaos. Everyone in the school was speaking in Spanish. I did not understand the customs and mannerisms. It was difficult to not feel as an outcast. The most complicated part was expressing my feelings, and my needs to the teachers. I lived in Mexico, Tijuana for six years, after becoming adapted to the environment, my mom came home one day and told me that we are moving to the United States.…
Coming from a low income Hispanic family, I’ve had to overcome different challenges. One thing I recall from my childhood, was enjoying myself from reality. Reality in which no child knows about life and death, bad news and good news, or right from wrong. I still remember when I was upset for quite some time for not celebrating my first birthday party at the age of 4. Instead, at 4 years old, I had to spent my birthday and week at a funeral praying up to two weeks. But then I was finally triggered at the age of 9 when I found out that the man I saw in his casket years ago was no stranger, it was my father. I grew up thinking my father had abandoned my mother and siblings, but never did I consider such thing. As time went by I did not think…
I was on the train and I overheard these two older ladies having a conversation in Spanish. At the next stop, one of the ladies got off and I took the time to familiarize myself. I learned that her name was Roberta. Luckily, she understood and spoke English, so I explained that it was an assignment for school. She agreed and I began by introducing myself and asking for her name and how she was. She replied that she was good and she asked me and I responded the same way. I asked her about her day and where she was from and she asked me where I was from, how was school, and what class I liked the most. The conversation wasn’t long, but it was longer than I thought it would be. The conversation eventually ended when she had to get off at her…
One day, I was out with my family at a French bakery. As I opened the door, the sweet scent of baked goods entered my nostrils, an old man approached and he said thank you in a strong thick French accent. I asked the old man if he was French and he replied with “oui je suis français”( yes i'm French). I responded with “ Je ne suis pas français mais je peux parle français”( I'm not French but I can speak French) . His brown eyes widened and as his mouth slowly opened with shock, I gave him a small smile. He said he didn't expect to get a response in French and he asked if my parents were French I said no, my mom is from Mexico, so he asked how I knew French, then I explained that I take French in my high school. The old man said “Your French is excellent for you to not be a native speaker and you've developed the accent.”…
whEN I wAS FoUr YEArS oLd, I fell in love. It was not a transient…
Growing up in an immigrant household came with many difficulties. Learning English was very easy for me because I was always in daycare but coming home was hard because I could not communicate with my parents. Trying to communicate with my parents was very difficult and frustrating. Even though it was at a young age, it was difficult to live in a household who only spoke Spanish.…
Every person is unique and very special in their own very unique way not everyone is perfect and not everyone is the same but we all live together in this very big world. Although many people judge each other from their religion to the way they look just because you have a certain blonde lineage doesn't mean you act and do the same things as everyone before you such as the sports you play, The community around you, and how big or small you family is. Everyone is different not everyone is the same.…
The day started off as any normal day. My mother woke me up and said “we must go.” Her voice sounded very urgent for what I thought was just a trip to the grocery store. My mom laid my outfit on my bed and packed by book bag; that’s when I figured out that I was starting school. I wasn’t entirely oblivious to the fact that I was going to familiarize myself with a completely different environment, but I just thought I had a little more time to prepare. Well, it turns out that I was wrong. You see, I wasn’t your average pre-schooler who was nervous about making friends. I was the immigrant child who had never spoken a word of English.…
Growing up I excelled in every educational aspect of school. However the stereotype for someone of my skin color did not allow for me to be both Mexican and smart. My Hispanic peers began to exclude me; the most common way they did that was by taking away my identity as a Mexican. I heard “Diego you white” an uncountable number of times throughout my schooling. I noticed that my grades and vocabulary would trigger that comment so I began to change the way I acted in order to fit in. It was not until recently that I realized the fault in changing and found a peaceful merge between the two speech communities.…