¿Gringa or Latina?

I grew up in suburban Pennsylvania, amid a clash of cultures. My mother immigrated to the United States from Lima, Peru when she was in her early twenties. She met my father while working at the college he attended. She became his Spanish tutor, and they fell in love and eloped. Over the next few years, my two sisters and I joined the family.

Sometimes I feel that being “Latina” means embracing the culture and language completely. It is an identity characterized by how fast you speak, bolstered by a culture rich with history. For some reason, I have always felt that I do not fit the proper identity of a Latina. No one has ever told me I was too “white” – so why have I always felt that I am too gringa to be Latina?
In my early childhood, I was always proud of my family. But I struggled with my identity. In American society, people are encouraged to pick a group and stick with it. My parents always told me to check the “Hispanic” box on tests given in school. But in fifth grade, my teacher, Mrs. Lou, told me I had to check the Caucasian box because my father was white. Contradictions like these forced me to analyze myself as well as my racial identity.
My family dynamic was different from those of many of my friends at school. I was never allowed to go out on New Year’s Eve because of family parties, and my sister wasn’t allowed to play soccer because it was a “boy’s sport.” When I was little, I was required to learn a new rule from an etiquette book every day. That continued until my sister and I “accidentally” donated the book to the local public library. We ate Christmas dinner at midnight with my mother’s family, and then ate again on Christmas evening with my father’s family; eating two turkey dinners in twenty-four hours was always a test of physical endurance.
Over time, I came to understand that the mix of Latin and American culture within my house and my familiarity with the customs and mentalities of both cultures has been a positive influence in my life. I made this realization in college.
When I stepped into my dorm room at American University, I met my roommate, Magdalena Pumpalova. Originally from Bulgaria, Maggie moved to the United States when she was sixteen. Maggie and I quickly became friends. Unaccustomed to American culture and mannerisms, sometimes Maggie feels uncomfortable and uninformed about certain things. From being around my mother, I became an expert in reading body language indicating when people are unsure about certain words or subjects. The important rule I learned, especially in my mother’s case, is not to laugh at questions. This might sound cliché, but especially with people from different cultures, no question is a stupid one; furthermore, being comfortable asking question shows trust.
In college, I do not hang out with the Latin crowd, nor do I solely hang out with the “Americans.” I have many friends from different countries. I hang out with a Venezuelan, a Bulgarian, an Irish Philadelphian, and a New Yorker. My friends, like my family, represent a mix of backgrounds. I realized that I don’t have to just check one box; I can check as many as I see fit. I now check both the Caucasian and Hispanic boxes.
Through my college experience, I have come to recognize the priceless skills that my family has given me. My ability to understand and interact with different kinds of people is invaluable. I look at myself as a bridge connecting my family’s two cultures, the intermediary between the two groups. Through all of this, I have learned that being a “gringa-Latina” is having the best of both worlds.