You Knew It Was Coming- My Experience with Race in the South

**This is my blog where I express thoughts and ideas. For those of you who continue to be my friends during these moments, I thank you. This post wasn't written with the thought to maliciously hurt anyone. I just hope you can understand where I am coming from- my perspective on dealing with my race in the South.


I come from mixed ancestry.
I have four races running through my veins.
I am me.

Growing up as a marginalized, second-class citizen was a difficult challenge. Don't get me wrong, I have come to love my Rogers, AR but it didn't come without a price. I had to 'learn my place' and in doing so, I nearly walked away from a rich, Latino culture that defines who I am and where I come from. As a child, I spent many evenings reading the dictionary and learning to pronounce English words appropriately; I feared the correction of my friends and teachers. I can't tell you for sure that I spoke English with an accent because I can't remember that far back. However, I do remember the ridicule if I ever spoke a sentence incorrectly.

I wanted to look like everyone else. I wanted to sound "American" and in the south, that was no easy feat. I stood out like a sore thumb in every school picture. I'll never forget the first time someone called me a derogatory name- something about being a field picker? It hurt. Looking back I think that perhaps I was too sensitive. Kids are immature, but they can be mean.

I understand the "race" conversation is challenging. I know some would rather not discuss it and sweep it under the rug. Others think that racism doesn't exist in our country and people, like me, are too sensitive and emotionally driven by comments... In this current day and age, a close friend of mine called my son a "Spinx"- cleverly creating a hybrid insult. I didn't stand on the table and yell for justice. I didn't stick my fist in the air and wish for equality for all under the law. I simply cringed. My soul cried a little. I asked him to never speak to me again. I lost a life-long friend. I have chosen to surround myself with supportive people, who don't need to label my family members in order to understand their place in the status quo. 

I walked away from hate because I refuse to raise my son to believe he is only as good as his skin color.