I spent 15 weeks in Mexico— 6 weeks volunteering in Puebla, 7 weeks backpacking through Oaxaca, Chiapas, Mexico City and Guanajuato and 2 weeks visiting my hometown in Michoacán. The more I learned about Mexico’s rich culture and diversity, the more I fell in love with this country. Simultaneously, I was learning about my own history and reflecting on my experience as a Mexican immigrant living in the US.
My family and I immigrated to California in the early 1990’s when I was a child. Afterwards, I visited my extended family in Mexico almost every year over summer vacations and holiday breaks. I loved spending time in Michoacán, and I valued having two nationalities and two homes. My parents taught me to be proud of “my roots,” they encouraged me speak, read and write Spanish, they shared family stories passed down from their parents and they instilled in me a deep love for Mexico. At the same time, they taught me to be grateful for the opportunities I had in the US, they learned about and participated in many American traditions and they always spoke about the US with great respect.
However, I never quite felt like I belonged anywhere. In the US, my shade of Brown is constantly questioned. My name is often mispronounced. My curly hair and dark features confuse people, and I’m regularly asked, “Where are you really from?”
But when I return to Mexico, I feel like an outsider. I may have been born here, but my experience living in the US makes me feel less Mexican. And as much as I love Mexico, I know I would have never had the opportunities I’ve had living in the US.
For many years, I struggled with my identity. When asked where I’m from, I always paused before answering. Should I respond with “I was born in Mexico, grew up in California and then moved to X city?” Should I just say “California” or should I say “Mexico” since some people seem to simply want to know what kind of brown I am?
Up until recently, I felt torn between two countries and two cultures. I also felt extremely guilty for all the privileges I’ve enjoyed. Some people credit their success to their own hard work, but I’ve always felt indebted to my parents for sacrificing so much for my sisters and me. I also felt indebted to the US for the opportunities I’ve had despite the discrimination and abuse immigrants often face. I felt like I didn’t deserve the Ivy League education I received, the salaried positions I’ve had or the trips I’ve taken around the world. Moreover, I felt like a stranger in two worlds— never enough for Mexico and definitely not enough for the US.
While I’ve always valued my dual citizenship and bicultural upbringing, this trip made me more confident than ever about where I come from and who I am. I still feel great pride in my Mexican roots and significant gratitude for the US, but I no longer feel like I have to choose one country over the other or defend how I define myself.
Prior to the trip, I often found myself simplifying my experience by saying “ni de aquí, ni de alla” (neither from here nor from there). Now, as I sit at the airport waiting for my flight to Boston, I choose to say “de aquí y de alla” (from here AND from there).
Trails And Travels 