Question:
Why is ancestral country and culture so important to some Americans and not others? And why do some ethnicities identify with the home country and culture of their parents or grandparents or great-grandparents more than others? It seems to me that “roots identity” is much more important to Irish, Italians, Mexicans, and Indians (and arguably Jews) than other second and third generation and fourth generation immigrants.
Two things have me wondering this. First: Arnold Schwarzenegger’s comment that Mexicans don’t immerse themselves and “assimilate into the American culture become part of the American fabric.” (More from Cindylu and KJERRINGA MOT STRØMMEN) And also this post about “Indianness” from Aishwarya, based in New Delhi. Describing a cousin of hers who lives in the US, she writes:
She’s more up to date on Indian fashion than I am. She watches every Bollywood release, and reminds me of those women in Bollywood NRI movies where the scenery and the white people are relegated to the status of props.
Then, describing herself:
Philistine that I am, I don’t wear my Indian-ness as a sort of badge of honour. I live in India and have an Indian passport, so being Indian is obviously not as big a deal for me as for someone who lives halfway across the world. Most of my friends are Indian, simply because I’m in India and Indians are most of the people I meet. But despite living in Delhi, I have plenty of non-Indian friends as well. Because my interests and concerns are not specifically Indian ones. My taste in music isn’t, the books and movies I like aren’t Indian (some of them are. Not all).
Her post reminded me of a thought I had once while riding in the car with some friends in Mexico City. We were listening to the very latest indie rock songs from Brooklyn, wearing identical clothing, and on our way to eat, not tacos, but hamburgers. “Las hamberguesas mas ricas de todo DF,” they told me. And I remember thinking to myself, “Mexicans are more American than most Chicanos.”
I should clarify that this has nothing to do with assimilation because I don’t believe there is a static American culture that immigrants should assimilate to. American culture has always been dynamic and has always evolved thanks to the contributions of new immigrants.
Four of my favorite bloggers all happen to be Mexican-American. For Cindylu and Jennifer, their “Mexicanness” is something that is very important to them and a huge part of their identity. But from the blogs of Alejandro and Xoloitzquintle, you’d never even know that they are Mexican-American.
Why? Why the difference in identity and interests? Jennifer has already written about when Mexicanness became a central part of her identity. But why does that transformation happen to some and not others?
She opened up a book of poems and handed it to me written by an Italian poet from the 13th century and every one of them words rang true and glowed like burning coal pouring off of every page like it was written in my soul.
Bob Dylan
I’m one of those people who like to make fun of slam poetry. I have my own little impersonation where I snap my fingers and talk about my mother’s vagina in that unmistakable rhythm of choked-up stuttering.
But when I hear people say that modern poetry – real poetry, constructed with language, not theatrics – is dead, I ask them to listen to my iPod. When will the most talented hip-hop artists – from Uganda to Cuba to Cincinnati – be recognized as the true poets of contemporary society?
When will studying rap lyrics in an academic environment be considered something more than pop-culture indulgence by professors wanting to look cool? Tupac, Slug, Zion I (thanks Revaz), Eminem: their descriptions of modern life and of timeless human nature are brutally and beautifully expressive. They are true poets and should be regarded as such.
Downloads of the day:
Kick, Push by Lupe Fiasco
He Say She Say by Lupe Fiasco
Since I am a Heinz 57, I don’t really have ethnic roots. However, I have deep Texas roots (my family has lived here for a very long time). While I’m in the state, I don’t really think about the way I talk, or what I eat. However when I was out of my element in Minnesota, I found myself throwing a drawl in every now and then, saying “y’all” at least once a day. Not only was I homesick for family, but I missed Texas, and Austin. Now I know how deeply Texan-ness has sunk into my personal identity.
I know for me it had a lot to do with growing up brown in a white family, adopted out of my real surname, and raised on the east coast in very white schools most of the time. And…a million other thngs along the way.
But the last grain of catalyst was hearing tons against Mexicans as the anti-immigration meme began growing in the USA…I realized I had been stripped of my culture, and yet still identified very strongly with it. So I set upon a journey to regain it. Perhaps this still doesn’t answer your Why. It works for me, though. Until it changes!
Your post really changes gear at the end….i like both topics but felt waylaid, as if the first topic hadn’t resolved itself. But maybe that was just me wanting to read more on it!
I believe in that feeling in Europe, that you became a citizen of the world. Nowadays, who can say where I come from? Do you now how many different mixes I have in my blood? That makes me what I am. However, lately I realize this world is all about elections. Good or bad elections, and how we have the power to change bad elections taking good and new decisions. I can decide if I want my roots or not. And how I allow them to change my world, to take what I am and finally to define to me.
It would be more and more racism in the measure that I allow that every comment about “etnicity” or “root” take efect in my happines. I’m sure of what I am, I decide to live with that and nobody knows what is the best for me. And finally, I decide that kind of comments about “to become part of” doesn’t exist to me.
(In words of “la pelota de letras” it would be: deje así, pa’ qué se puso! -you know, our new mantra :D)
The very important thing in this world is to be a good person. The rest is up to you 😉
Besos!
You always get me stirrin Oso.
Identity is invigoratingly complex.
My unspecified Mexican-American title is deliberate. Being a Mexican-American is a fraction of my identity. My ideals belong to those of the global citizen.
My story is typical. I’m a first generation American. However, i’m also a first generation citizen of the world. If I access my Mexican heritage, I must accept the addition of the Spanish & Moorish lineage in my history.
Like Cindy, I was confused when I was younger. I actually thought until 2nd grade that everyone spoke two languages. I didn’t know that people didn’t eat albondigas for dinner.
However, at an early age I realized that my identity wasn’t confined to ethnic boundaries. I realized my identity was directly linked to the music I listened to, the movies I watched, the books I read, etc. And at a certain stage, The Doors, Fellini, & Neruda became my identity.
Also, I did rebel against the idea of accepting titles. When I was in high school, I grew to disapprove of people calling me a Chicano, or a Latino, because there wasn’t anything there that could substantially define me. I strictly began to despise “La Raza” sentiments, and increasingly began to denounce what I thought was segregational propoganda. I was still an avid activist in those days though. I participated in protests, side by side with Chicano groups, fighting for the EZLN, trying to free Mumia. Revolution is always a great source of unity.
It wasn’t until I actually started listening to Manu Chao, while simultaneously crackin my skull with Sartre, around the age of 18, that I realized what I was: a citizen of the world. I solidified my ideals by indulging in a sort of intellectual & cultural vagabondism at that time.
I’m definitely proud of my links to Mexico. Yet, links to Moorish folklore, as well as Spanish history are just as strong. I could go on with this one Oso. It’s a topic that I would love to discuss with tons of people that write through here. I know Revaz, Noah, you & I could go on for days. Ironically though, throughout the last few years, I’ve been told i’m not “Mexican enough” and I’m not “American enough”: I have to say that i’m thoroughly proud of that too. 🙂 ciao tio…
HP, nothin but love for ya 😉 Look me up sometime.
Oso, I always struggle to talk about cultural issues when deep down I despise the labels. For me, definitions for culture are like leaky containers; if you leave them on the shelf for a while, they wind up empty, and you have to put other leaky containers below to catch what drains out, and on and on. Which makes your question even harder to answer. I assume an individual’s choice to either claim or disavow a particular cultural heritage fulfills an emotional and/or social need for sub-culture or acceptance. I’m more curious about the forces that give rise to either ‘cultural bubble.’ To assimilate or not to assimilate, that is the U.S. American question.
I think that trying to define where you fit in is something that a lot of us confront when we don’t fit into the neat lines we are told we should. I know for me I’ve been through a lot of identity issues, and none of my attempts to adopt some traditional sense of identity ever felt right.
I remember when I first started struggling with identity and where I fit in. My first attempt was at Jewishness. I started reading a bit about Jewish history, wanted to enroll myself in Hebrew school, have a bar mitsvah etc. It always felt somewhat contrived though, and when I hung out with other Jewish kids I knew that I didn’t quite fit in. Growing up I had gone to black gospel churches more than I had gone to Temple, I didn’t know about all the rituals, and as I was informed when I was 12 by this Israeli kid I knew, I wasn’t even Jewish because my mom isn’t Jewish (that was something new to me).
After that I didn’t really know what I was. When I moved to Tennessee at 13 I became Californian (I remember buying a Bilabong shirt before I moved to Tennessee even though I didn’t surf). But when I went back to California that didn’t mean much anymore.
I remember in highschool envying the chicano, black, and asian kids because I felt like they had something to grab onto that I didn’t.
I may have never been rejected by American society (except when I moved to Tennessee), but I never really felt part of it, or I never felt that how its so often defined really meant much to me or was broad enough for me. I grew up listening to African music, bluegrass, and gospel to name a few, and I consider that part of my identity. I speak Spanish and while I didn’t grow up speaking it, it is part of my identity. I’m not Chicano or Mexican, but both of those create part of my identity. I speak Portuguese and while I’m not Brazilian the language and culture are definately part of my identity. I was born in the States, but I am likely to have more to talk about with some kid from DF or Rio than some kid from Idaho. I’m not ashamed of where I’m from, but half of the time I dont’ even know how to answer that question because I didn’t grow up in one place.
What I’ve realized is that identity in its traditional sense has never worked for me. My identity isn’t what it was when i was 12, and it isn’t what it was when I was 21, my identity keeps on changing, each place I go, each person I meet, and each language I learn adds to my identity and expands who I am.
I wrote a paper on Hip Hop in Senegal once and found a quote from a rapper responding to the cultural imperialism criticism. He went off about why should he define himself by some “traditional” culture that didn’t have much to say about his reality living in the hood in Dakar, and that he picked what worked for him from what was available.
I don’t think identity issues like these are something uniquely American.
Alex and I have been talking a lot about this lately…I love the discussion.
Beijos y abrazos
I can really relate to Xolo & Alejandro’s comments.
I’ve never been big on labels and the few times I’ve used them they felt constrictive and inconclusive. I was the first person in my family born in the U.S. and while I always felt like I was missing something not living near more raza I had no trouble “fitting” in to my predominantly white neighborhoods (although I can argue I never felt like I belonged, but that’s another story). Furthermore while I don’t usually feel the need to point out my mexicanidad I’ve always felt comfortable embracing the language, customs and culture my parents instilled in me.
It wasn’t until I moved to Puerto Rico that I truly began to comprehend how much my culture, or how you say my “roots identity,” is an integral part of who I am. It gets tricky because now that I’m away, I’ve come to realize how American I really am and how much I really do identify with the Mexican and Chicano cultures yet I know now more than ever that its a blending of the two that make up my true heritage.