I am not Mexican

No matter how hard I try (or don't try), I will never be Mexican. At first sight, with my now-dark brown skin and black hair, I may pass for one, but hear me try to speak Spanish, realize that I'm struggling to understand a fast-paced colloquial conversation, or discover my inadequate knowledge of Mexican culture/geography/politics, and you will know that I am from elsewhere. Is this a big deal? It is if you live in Tijuana, Mexico.

In a city that has spent its entire history straddled between Mexico and "Gringolandia," it is incredibly obvious to me in which of the two classifications I am inevitably placed. Working with volunteer groups mostly from the dUS, I regularly receive friendly quips from my Mexican co-workers about "mis paisanos" at times when they feel like anything but. Even the French volunteer (he would tell you that he's really Breton) receives taunting calls of "gringo" from the sidelines of the local football pitch. Forget any notion of Freedom Fries, this is a place where polar opposite are the norm; a place where black and white force gray into anonymity.

But reality, 'tis neither here nor there. Tijuana, in national culture, sports, and politics, is neglected by the rest of Mexico, just as it is politically and physically separated from the dUS. It is an untouchable border town disavowed by its heritage. Like Tijuana, I have always felt like an outcast. With mostly Chinese physical features and mostly German cultural influences, for one reason or another, I am obviously earmarked as "from elsewhere" (even when traveling to Germany and China). #1 question from people that I meet for the first time: "What is your ethnicity/background/nationality?"

Yet, unlike most of the Tijuanenses that I've met, I have found comfort in my hybridity and instead of feigning affiliation to a particular team, I have embraced all of humanity as my people. Problem with no man, before "mixed" I'm first human (catch the Fugees reference?).

While the situations that prompt these conclusions are probably shared by mixed-culture kids roaming the world, more generally, it is also the experience of people are transplanted from their comfort zones to a radically different environment. Some examples include: the jump from a small high school to a large out-of-state university, living in a different country for an extended period of time or interacting with people from a different socioeconomic class in a work setting. Through the process of confronting these differences of environment, relative identities become forged into absolute identities (for better or for worse). For example, my half-white, half-black friend who associates herself with the Black community in Seattle was taken aback when she went to South Africa and was considered beyond-a-doubt White. As a result, she said that she has a new perspective on herself and is more aware of her affiliations. A more negative example might be someone whose basic assumption is that she/he is better than a particular "type" of person (i.e. poor, rich, Mexican, White, young, old, etc.). Upon being confronted with a particular example that is interpreted to support this hypothesis (I can't hide my science training), she/he assumes that it holds for all of the existing people of this "type."

This process of confronting one's identity is one that I try to facilitate week-in and week-out with volunteer groups here at Fundación Esperanza de México (exactly how, I'll try to explain in a future post). And while not all of these identity-confronting experiences lead to positive outcomes, those that do, make this work worthwhile. What makes an outcome positive? For me, it is the individual's conclusion that no matter how hard we try (or don't try) we are all equally human. And that is one step closer to world peace (insert a few seconds of silence for dramatic effect).