I’m Latina, not Hispanic

This past summer, my family had our first ever named family reunion. My mom usually holds massive parties in México, where upwards of a 100 families show up for a birthday or an anniversary. Obviously that wasn’t possible last year. I lost two first cousins, Geraldo Peña and Enrique Gomez, to covid and my heart is still broken...

So it was just our most immediate family coming together in Chicago. Like many Latina/o/x families, we are very mixed: my sister and her daughter both married (wonderful) white men, many family members identify as LGBTQ+, and my husband is afro-caribbean. We are our own little collage of identities and cultures.

We had four days of hanging out— una taquiza in the suburbs, homemade subway sandwiches by Lake Michigan, a picnic party, ordering Portillo’s & Medici, and a sibling meeting where we planned the future of our mom’s care.

Beyond having a vaxxed family reunion, there was another major reason we wanted to get together. Last year I was invited to be on Finding Your Roots, a PBS show hosted by Henry Louis Gates Jr. that traces people’s family history and bloodline. They were able to trace my lineage up to 500 years back--that's rare, they are usually only able to go back about 200 years for most people.

I faced a lot of emotional revelations. My grandmother always believed our family were descendants of the king of Spain--and it turns out she was right. The honor in being tied to royalty is entirely lost on me when I think about how those people were conquerors who enacted genocide.

In fact, my 11th great grandfather, Diego de Montemayor, was the founder of the city of Monterey, Mexico. He came with the intention to “pacify the native people”. This history was a lot for me and my family to have to process. We had to look straight into the eyes of our own, frankly, white supremacist ancestry. Being latina/o/x means reckoning with that violence in our own ancestral past.

There was one major beautifully heartbreaking discovery in our family lineage. We have one quarter of indiginous blood tracing back over centuries on our matrilineal side. They were not able to give me exact information because the colonizers were the ones in charge of writing history. More specifically, men receive recognition on paper whereas women are lucky if they got an entry recording their birth and death dates.

So while we are on the topic of complex personal histories, let's talk about Hispanic Heritage Month. Y’all know how it goes for POC in this country. Hispanic Heritage Month (HHM) is actually two weeks from two separate months put together. I am actually not a huge fan of celebrating it, but I am a fan of celebrating latinidad in the U.S. every day in small and monumental ways.

I don’t celebrate HHM for two major reasons: Firstly, I do not use the term “Hispanic” to refer to myself or my family. And secondly, I don’t believe we should be celebrating our identity for only one month.

I don't use the term hispanic because it was created under the Nixon administration. Beyond having a general disapproval of Nixon, my family also hated the idea that he was reducing an entire demographic of people into one label that excluded the most essential parts of their latinidad. Hispanic applies to people who are descendants from Spain. I am not just a Spanish descendent; I have indigeous blood rooted in Mexico that the term Hispanic doesn’t acknowledge. Well, what about the alternative, “Latina/o/x”? Maybe it doesn’t do a perfect job of recognizing those roots either, but it doesn't exclude them the way Hispanic does.

Another term I don't use is “minority”. POC are not minorities and we have to stop thinking of ourselves in that way. Soon, white folks are going to be the numerical minority. Why rub it in their faces?😂

Latinx people are the second largest voting block in the U.S. and the largest ethnic group. Half of all the total population growth in the last census was because of Latina/o/x births in the U.S. That's what we should be celebrating; that is where the power really lies.

Let me make this clear--I love celebrating our culture: the parties, the styles, the music, and shouting out our heroinas. Two years ago, this was the busiest time of the year for me and I relished in it. I was out in Omaha, Syracuse, Kansas City, and Washington state, seeing local mariachis--yes, there are local mariachis everywhere--and meeting you all. I remember holding some of you while you cried on my shoulder, telling me the work we do at a little company called Futuro Media has been the soundtrack of your Latinx survival.

My Latinidad means too much for me to list. I don't think I can quantify it into words. One of the most important components within our cultura is familia. Now I know for many of us, especially women, familia can be very complicated. Our families give us life, but they can just as easily act toxic towards us. They can gaslight, criticize, and impose their machismo on us. And of course, there will always be the que diran--a fear of “What will other people say? What will the gossip be? What will the neighbors think?”

For those of us lucky enough to have familia, blood or not, we know how much Latinos take that shit seriously. Valuing family doesn't mean all relationships are perfect within it, but there is historically a bond that celebrates life, loving each other no matter what, and caring for our elders.

Love, politics, and art: that’s what makes me a Latina and my Mexican immigrant family taught me that. Celebrating our Latinidad should purposefully combine these things.

We have to use this moment to own our power and set the narrative for this country’s political futuro. By helping our family members get politically educated we can further understand our power. We (inspired by and alongside many Black women and activists) are the ones who can save this democracy.

Preaching that every month and every minute--that's how I celebrate my Latinidad on a daily basis.

FINDING YOUR ROOTS EPISODE: https://www.pbs.org/video/the-new-world/