Hispanic-American Essays

If I had to sum up Miguel's essay in one phrase, it would be "not being ____ enough." Whether that blank is filled with 'Mexican' or 'gay' or any other quality, that's the main feeling I got from his essay, and it's sad that it's so easy to relate to. The idea that we all have to fit into our labeled, little prescribed boxes to appease society is frustrating and disappointing, but it's ultimately something that we can't escape no matter who we are. People looking at Migeul would think first 'gay Mexican Dartmouth student.' People looking at me would think 'Indian girl in computer science,' mostly because I'm not quite so open as Miguel about my other attributes that would be quickly added as more labels on my person. The matter-of-fact way that Miguel seems to have written this essay just seems to highlight the way that he has accepted his lot in life, and that more than anything is admirable.

Not being "'gay enough' for the gay students," having "people know that I am American" "before I even say a word..." I can relate to these experiences on both counts. I've heard that bisexual people sometimes receive a stigma even from the LGBT community for not being gay enough, for being wishy-washy or indecisive, for not being brave enough to 'come out completely.' When I go to India and go shopping, I'm not allowed to talk in stores -- the fact that I don't speak Hindi or Kannada (neither of which are my mother-tongue) and my accent in general tip store owners off immediately, and subsequently prices get doubled (sometimes even tripled). The fact that I can relate is sad, but it is true.

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Alessandro's essay was also very interesting in terms of how he 'compartmentalized' the parts of his heritage. "Speaking Spanish at home" even after "[spending] most of the day in the English-speaking world" helped keep him in touch with his heritage, and I miss that in my own life. I personally do not speak my native language, Konkani, but I understand it fluently to the point that there isn't even a delay between hearing it and understanding it -- understanding it is innate to me, but I'm just so out of practice with forming it that I can't speak it.

Going to India this summer, the first time in a few years that I've done so, and meeting up with all of my relatives reminded me very clearly of this gap. In my extended family from my mother's side, there are two of us who have left India; my mother's family (her, my father, and me) and one of my aunt's (her, her husband, and her daughter). My cousin and I are 'those two foreign ones' when we go back to India, American for me and Canadian for her. Unlike me, however, my cousin is still in the habit of speaking Konkani, so the visit went fine for her. I, on the other hand, ended up with somebody next to me all the time in order to respond to my relatives' comments. It was a very sobering experience to feel that isolated within my own people -- my own family, even.