Do you ever feel so passionate about something it actually makes you tear up? I do. I feel so passionate about my culture and all its riches. Not material riches but all that it holds.
I get so mad when I hear people disrespect our own culture. I feel that Mexican Americans are so racist within the race. Why would our own raza use such names as "spics" and “nacos”. What? Do you know what those words even mean? You know dang well that you came from nothing and that at one time that nappy head kid running in the street barefoot was you? Why resort to such harshness? Don’t judge by the cover. I blame it on ignorance and envy. We all need time to move up. I know our culture sometimes lacks in some areas but that’s in any culture. I remember as a kid living in a duplex. Five of us in a two bedroom apartment. It doesn't sound so good now but as a kid I don't ever remember going without. I remember having clothes, food, shelter and most of all LOVE. I drive by that same neighborhood now and it doesn't look so good but when I lived there it was the shiznit. I remember all of us neighborhood kids running around playing tag. While our moms sat outside together, talking and watching us. Oh the good ol' days. I wouldn’t change a dang thing. We lived there for about 8 years. The best 8 years of my life. We then moved into a home. Where I lived modestly with my family until the day I got married at the age of 30. By America’s standards that’s not a good thing but in my culture it’s a great thing. My point is that my parents came here with nothing but the clothes on their backs. There were bumps and back then maybe someone called us “spics” or even “nacos”, not knowing that we had a lot more than they had. Maybe not cars, jewelry or things that they deem important but we had each other. I think my Mami and Papi did a great job raising 3 children. Three family oriented children who embrace their culture.
I love that I left home at 30. 30 years well lived. I’m glad that’s part of our culture. In those 30 years my Mom and Dad taught me such great things. At the time those things did not stand out but now that I’m starting my own family I am reminded of those things on a daily basis. One being, getting married in the Catholic Church. I love all of our traditions. Noche Buena (Christmas Eve) being one of my absolute favorites. All the things leading to Noche Buena I love. I love when I see my Mami making tamales. I love the smell in the air and knowing that on Noche Buena my family will be together. No errands to run, no dinner to get home to but our undivided attention is given to each other. Family was always my parents priority. I’m so proud of that. We all have our differences but the family always unites us. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I married a Mexican man. A man that I adore. A man that brings so much to my life. We learn from each other. A man that also embraces his culture. I love that he doesn’t believe in the machismo way. That he lets me be who I am and loves me unconditionally. I love that he loves my friends and wouldn’t have it any other way. I love how he curses in English. I hate that people judge him by the cover. I hate that people ask him or me (in front of me) if he speaks English or don’t even bother trying to speak English to him because they automatically assume that he doesn’t. Brown skin doesn’t mean no English, just as my white skin doesn’t mean no Spanish. I love that he’s so smart and so ambitious. More ambitious than those that were born in this country. He wants to make something of himself, not to impress others but to impress himself, all along the way impressing me. Every day I learn something from him. Every day I learn something new about him. I admire his greatness. I admire the love he has for his family. I love that both of us were the last ones to get married in our families and we're both the last ones to have children. I love the way he looks at me even when I have lagañas (eye boogers). I love that he loves himself and is never embarassed to show his spirit. I love the way he smells after working so hard. I'm proud that it was our first marriage for both of us and that both of us waited to have children. I love that he cried when we miscarried and that for once it was me holding him. I love MY Mexican Man and all that he brings to my life.
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