The following post is from guestblogger FB of J6 &FB fame ... (For the genesis of this entry, see this post.)

What is it to be a real Mexican living in America? (Well, at least in LA.)

Growing up I never felt very Mexican. How one can "feel" Mexican I can never really say for sure. But all I can say is I didn't feel like one. Not that it's anybody's place to make such a call on anyone's ethnic authenticity. But I've never really identified completely or even partially with my culture, especially as a teenager. I was constantly accused of being very "white-washed". A watered-down Caucasian version of a Mexican. It's actually highly insulting to be called that.

But was it true in a way? And did my sexuality help influence that?

As a child, my only ethnic role models were Black. "The Jeffersons," "Good Times," "What's Happening," etc. ere the closest thing to representing me on television. There were no Mexicans on TV. Except on the fuzzy reception of Tele Mundo. But that does not count. It doesn't count because of language.

Language as a barrier.

As a child my mother spoke mostly Spanish. My Grandfather spoke only Spanish in the house, but my Grandmother would mix it up. They did both speak perfect English but just preferred to speak Spanish at home. When it came time for my Mother to go to school in the late 1950s, this proved to be a problem. Often my mother would come home with notes pinned to her clothing. Notes telling my Grandmother to stop speaking Spanish at home. That this was damaging to her kids. There was a really big push for all minority kids to blend in. My mother is still haunted by the posters that were hung in all of her classes picturing a large black cauldron with multi-colored kids walking the plank into it. Thus melting in a pot. She felt this image was too intense. I feel it was too honest about the time. In the name of being a good American, this was the only way to see this ideal come to pass. That everyone would get along because we lacked individuality. This idea seems to still be popular in the military branches today. But my Grandmother, being a passive American, gave in heartily to the demands, and my mother and her siblings lost one of their languages.

This fear of not being accepted got passed down to my generation. None of the kids in my generation were taught to speak Spanish. Without language a lot of my cultural background was lost on me. I couldn't even order food in a restaurant. Also not knowing Spanish separated me from a certain faction of Latin people. The ethnocentric ones that looked down at people who assimilated.

When I worked retail as a teen, I was spoken to in Spanish by customers all the time. And when I said I didn't speak it, I'd get the fish eye and they'd ask for an associate that could. When no one was around they'd be forced into speaking perfect English with me. A little resentment built up in me for this kind of treatment. I would go out of my way to act confused and dumb struck. I had a little fun at their expense. But only the rude ones. There is also another group of Latinos that treat me very well. The hard-working, newly immigrated ones. I think they see me as someone who's assimilated and is actually seen as an American. I think it's the hope they have for their children to be accepted.

But back to media images.

I feel that my love for classic, Black situational comedies played a part in my identification with White culture.

How, you say?

Well since there was no one that looked like me on TV, I latched on to the closest thing. I watch "Good Times" and knew what they were talking about. On two levels. Being gay and being an ethnic minority. I got the subtle and not so subtle messages of being an outsider in your own country. Like being a guest in your own home. But eventually I figured out that although close, it still wasn't it. This further removed me from my culture and left me in the market looking for another one. I watched the White families on TV and really liked how their families were situated. Even though it wasn't my family set-up, I really wanted to relate to those images. They were very straight forward and uncomplicated. Their TV problems were so nice and easy. Well at least from my perspective. So that was that.

How being gay helped me identify with White culture.

Back to media images. As a child my favorite TV show was "Wonder Woman." She was dark haired and therefore possibly of some Latin origin. She was beautiful and strong. But she never lost who she was. People thought she was just a girl, but she showed them. Never having to lose her femininity in the process. The idea of her being an empowered minority was very inspirational. Also being gay she was fabulous. Damn she looked so good. And matching earrings to boot!!! AH!!!!!! But she was still living in a very White world.

As I got older and gayer, the hunt for gay images and role models began to rear its head. The only images I found were of White gay men. Hurray for PBS! I got to watch "Tales of the City" and have that series be very well respected. PBS allowed them to be very upfront about the subject manner. I got to see positive images and a little male nudity. Nice. But they were still White.

"Will and Grace" came along and is still very White. Actually I dislike "W&G" a lot. But that's for another day.

But only having White culture be (apparently) cool enough to accept gay themes was really influential. Coming from a very masculine, male-dominated culture, it just looked so much better. How could I relate to all that ultra masculine machismo bullshit? White culture had gender specific agendas but were way more lenient about it. Mexican roles were non-negotiable. At least that's how it seemed to me.

So what now???

I'm at the age where I'm very selective about my role models. It's funny to say something like that. I didn't think I did that anymore, but I guess I still do. I think we all need someone or something to look up to. To examine other people's lives and see how they manage it. Though it would be nice to have a role model that is specifically tailored to you. All these years later I find out Lynda Carter is actually part Mexican. My dark haired suspicions were correct. Not that it's important anymore. What's important is the general acceptance of yourself and the cultures around you. To take in whatever information you can. Regardless if you feel it's out of your ethnic label. I love the world market we live in. The ability to pick and choose is amazing.

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