During my first Mosaic editorial meeting, I was asked to share something that most people wouldn’t know about me.
My response was “Hi, my name is Jose Diaz. I may look white, but I’m actually Mexican.” Not to my surprise everyone went on to say, “Really?” like they usually do. And here I am, again, explaining that, “I’m not half Irish or something. Both my parents are full-blown Mexicans.”
I live in San Jose, Calif., in a predominately Hispanic community. Amongst the other brown kids, I stand out.
My skin just happens to be lighter than that of most Latinos. I guess I’d be better classified as Mexican-American or Chicano. Take your pick.
I don’t think anyone I’ve ever met has guessed I was Mexican. Most recently, I was classified as Palestinian (I suppose that’s better).
There is a stereotype as to what classifies you as a Mexican. First and foremost is skin color. I’m not the darkest crayon in the box, so most people never would have guessed that this white guy was Mexican.
Next is the accent. I lived all my life in California and before I entered kindergarten I was fluent in both English and Spanish.
Although Spanish was my first language, I became more advanced in English, so I didn’t have the great ability to roll my “R’s” So basically I speak perfect English and iffy Spanish.
The Mexican community labeled me as whitewashed because I couldn’t fulfill the requirements of being Mexican.
I felt ostracized, unable to associate with either Mexican or white folks.
I admit I didn’t comply with the stereotypes of what a Mexican was supposed to be: I hated soccer, I didn’t eat meat, I listened to indie music and renounced my Catholic faith.
Sue me for not conforming, but this widely recognized idea of a “Mexican” seems pretty offensive to me.
I wasn’t ashamed of being Mexican like most people thought. I was ashamed to be represented as a lazy, burrito-eating, uneducated border-hopper.
Despite my lack of physical traits, I never condemned anything that should be considered great about being Mexican.
It’s a rich, colorful and fascinating culture.
I read books and watch films in Spanish, and listen to some Latin music, so I’m well involved with my culture.
But this separate image of what a Mexican is supposed be causes many other Mexicans to feel like they should behave a certain way – they must aim to be soccer fans, speak slang, and perform terribly at school.
Maybe I’m not the greatest example of what it means to be a “good” Mexican. No one decides that.
But who decided that because we are Mexican, we are destined to be janitors, maids or farm workers?
Who decided just because my skin is white, I’m not a real Mexican.
This stereotype of the appropriate Mexican should be wiped clean from everyone’s mind. Until then I’m going to refrain from tanning.
I’m going to become super rich and I will continue being compared to Canadian actor Michael Cera — my own way of fighting the Mexican label.
