an excerpt by Heidi Lopez from her published book, The Untold Stories of People Like Me.
I have a Spanish last name, brown skin, curly hair, and thick eyebrows. I was a kid when I started having to explain my entire background to strangers based on my appearance, and it was hard. “Where are you from?” Oh, I’m from Florida. But I was born in New Jersey. “No. no. I meant like where are you from? Where are your parents from?” This recurring question of an origin, my provenance, which assumed I did not belong in the very place where I stood, has become something of a pet peeve. Upon answering, the interactions are usually the same. People ask me to tell them about a phrase in Spanish or how I pronounce their name in my language. Hannah is still Hannah.
These interactions made me feel like I was being perceived as an object present only to entertain, rather than a human being with feelings and opinions. As a child, I felt two-dimensional to the outside world by being pushed out of this “normal circle of whiteness.” In response, I became ashamed of who I was and moved so far away from that part of me because I needed to fit in. I felt I had to so people would see me as a “normal” person.
Growing up in Florida, there weren’t many Latino teachers in school or in positions of authority. As I entered my university days, I was able to grow out of this feeling of burden of being myself. I started to appreciate my roots and was finally in an environment where I could begin to understand who I was and who I was becoming. This evolution, though, was not an easy road. It was very difficult to feel comfortable in a setting where no one really looks like you. When I reached college, I expected that I would experience the diversity that I had heard about. Unfortunately, I only saw the normal array of white people who did not truly understand the meaning and importance of my roots. I naively believed I was one of the few people who felt disappointed within the school system, but as I settled into Pratt Institute for graduate school, I found that my stories and feelings are a shared experience.
I began reaching out to individuals who may want to share their own memories and stories about growing up Latino in the United States, with the idea in mind to write a book. After many cold calls, emailing, and zoom meetings, I was privileged to be able to listen and be used as a vessel for three people; Carly Tagen-Dye, a truly beautiful soul inside and out, was the first person to say yes! I was so excited and happy she believed in the book I wanted to create and offered to share her life details with me. Carly was born in Guatemala and later adopted by two white American women. She also has a sibling adopted from Europe. Growing up, Carly always felt out of place even around other Latinos. She never had a direct connection to her biological parents, but looked and felt different from her adoptive mothers. Carly would say she felt more like a white person on the inside and identified as a fake Latina. Even then, when she would go to events, parties, or outings with other white Americans, she couldn’t shake the feeling of not belonging. She would “expect the worst from them” and felt obligated “to cater to their feelings.” She felt she had to hold things in to offer comfort to others while isolating herself. Carly states, “I’m still not that great at Spanish… I remember when [my moms] would try to force me into Spanish lessons, and I hated it. I feel like there is some internal self-hate.” After that Carly continued to fight an unknown identity; she was scared it wouldn't develop. The feeling of guilt also crept in the back of her mind about being one of the “chosen ones” who got adopted and went on to have a better life. Even so, she continued to face confusion while watching the news about immigration policies. She wanted to express her support for Guatemalan immigrants and the country, but it all fell on deaf ears.
Over time, while attending Pratt Institute, Carly joined a Latino Club on campus that truly opened her eyes to more individuals who shared her feelings of self-doubt. She was able to find a safe space to be vocal about how isolated she felt growing up in such a closed-minded environment. She started to gain pride in being an indigenous Guatemalan and started her journey of self-reflection. Carly began to restart Spanish lessons, educated herself on the cultural traditions practiced in Guatemala, and became happier that she took that first step toward progress. I enjoyed talking to Carly and appreciate her progress and know she will continue to be unapologetically genuine.
I would also like to thank the Latino club on campus at Pratt Institute because that is where I got to know Naihra Garavelo. Naihra was born and raised in Brazil but moved to the United States when she was six years old. Her parents were open about moving to the U.S. and discussed it with her and her sister. She felt she knew what was coming but once in the U.S., it felt like a complete change. Naihra states that what she remembered most about the process of moving was “learning the language.” It was difficult to navigate through a new country, learning the language and customs while trying to figure out who Naihra was herself. “I am in the in-between.”
She felt pushed to conform in high school to fit in, so she became part of the Brazilian group. She started to resent the group because her peers held a certain standard for who could “claim” to be Brazilian. What once felt like an environment of friends became a place of judgment that increased her self-doubt about being Brazilian enough. From then on, she decided to grow from that part of herself and truly control how she views herself. Since attending Pratt, she began to seek out Brazilian restaurants, and grocery stores and intentionally speak with other Brazilians she sees. Naihra shared, “I’m not going to be scared of initiating that conversation anymore, even if I don’t fully feel confident in speaking Portuguese.” She feels creating a connection is the starting point. During her time in school as an architecture student, she has tried to find ways to incorporate Brazilian styles in her projects as an extension of herself. Naihra continues to rediscover herself without the pressures and limitations of her younger self.
After talking with these two incredible individuals, I felt solidified in my mission to create this book for others who may share the same sentiments. I understand not everyone’s experiences are the same, but what I do believe in is that these stories should be shared. If one person can relate to at least one experience, then that can make all the difference.
There is no timeline, to-do list, or video to tell you all you need to know about life and identity. It is through experience, connections and truly trying to get even a little bit out of your comfort zone. Naihra and Carly felt stuck in one way of thinking, but it was because they didn’t know any better from growing up in their childhood environment. Sometimes all it takes is visiting another town, state, or country (if you’re able to of course) to alter your perspective on what truly matters. Talking to someone can also help realize shared emotions or a way of creating a deep connection. Getting out of your comfort zone is always scary, but the point of doing so is to better understand your own growing personality. What do you like? How do you think? Who are you reacting to? Why do you want to do this or that? What do you truly believe in? These questions help to build the foundations of your identity.
Take it from me. Never feel ashamed of not speaking enough Spanish or looking a certain way. There is no one universally Mexican, Colombian, Peruvian, Brazilian, etc. BUT there is only one you. I truly hope that anyone who reads this can learn at least one new thing about themselves or even the process of figuring out an identity. It’s not a narrow path and it shouldn’t be. Take control of where you want to go and who you want to be. Everything else will follow.
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