Not Enough

I’m not Mexican enough.

I don’t speak Spanish.

I don’t eat spicy foods because I can’t tolerate spice that well.

My skin is too pale.

I have very little accent to my voice.

I don’t dance. I don’t sing. I have no rhythm.

I have too much love for Pumpkin Spice. And Trader Joe’s Baas

I’m not Mexican enough.

 

I’m not White enough.

I have a Hispanic accent, slight that it may be.

My skin is too tan.

I don’t really burn in the sun.

My eyes are not blue or green or brown.

I do eat food with a kick to it often.

I love food with flavor.

I’m curvaceous. Exceptionally so.

I’m not White enough.

 

These are things that people have told me. These are things family has told me.  I had a guest at my work screaming at how if I was Hispanic, I would understand family tradition. I had another get in my face and yell that if I was White, they’d treat me with more respect.

I am both. I am proud to be both. It took me so long to get to a point where I was okay being both. Because I use to hate the fact that I am Mixed race. I used to hate that I was never fully able to belong in either.

I don’t need to belong to one or another. I’m okay being White. I’m okay being Hispanic. I am enough.

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