“All Latinos in the United States can be said to share some characteristics besides the imposed need to identify ourselves with names we may like or agree with.”

-Róman de la Campa
 

Institute for the Recruitment of Teachers

Andover, Massachusetts

July 6, 2003
 

The sun’s rays danced slowly through the open arms of a tree. Gradually turning but joyfully kissing each leaf that puckered up. Such an embrace comforted the shadows as they watched from a short distance. Nobody stopped to watch this passionate scene since it is imposed as an ordinary event. If you were to look at any other tree at that same time of day, it would be replicated. However, if you had looked below the tree I had just described, something peculiar might have caught your eye.

On a stone bench, I sat with another student of the program. She was born in Colombia but raised in New Jersey in a working class family and attends a college in New York. I was raised in southeast Los Angeles in a working class Mexican family and I attend Macalester… an interesting dialogue was taking place as an ivory spider hid beneath us.

Her college is predominately white of only a few other Latinos. I listened to her tales with ignorant questions regarding stereotypes of Latinas and the burden of having to constantly educate them. The spider peeked out wearing a sombrero. Sadly, I could easily contribute with stories of my own. Our stories neither shocked nor surprised each other but instead we shared a smile and tried to top one another… it was as if we shared the same feelings… and almost the same experience…

As our conversation shifted, we began to compare stories of our families. Her family left Colombia for sociopolitical reasons and chose Jersey because of the rumors of employment. My family left for socioeconomic reasons and chose Los Angeles because of family connections. As I listened, the spider hoisted a piñata over a branch and happily smacked it with a Chipotle burrito. I added that being first/second generation came with the burden of success. If you did not accomplish something that could be seen as successful by others, then the sacrifices made by your family would be considered meaningless and it would reside on your conscience. She nodded. The spider began to play a “Learn How to Salsa Dance” video and stumbled through the steps. “What about your community in college?” I asked. There were not many other Colombians attending her school. To those that she tried to converse about her feelings with, it proved very difficulty for them to understand her perspective since they always assumed she was Mexican. I found this somewhat familiar…

Minutes passed quickly as the sun began to glance over a near building and blinked with every gust. Altostratus began to run by more quickly. I will admit that the dialogue was long but it felt like only a few seconds since our thoughts became one.

When we noticed that it was time for us to attend our next workshop, we packed our books. The spider quickly finished microwaving a Mexican Tamale Pot Pie and ate it with a bottle of Fanta. This conversation allowed me to express myself without any fear of confusion (very similar to the time I spend at “home”). The significant idea that still lingers in my head is that I am not alone. There are others like me who are attending higher education institutions where only a small amount of minorities are enrolled. Furthermore, we all have the same feelings… and almost the same experience.

Standing, the spider swung into my backpack and blasted the new Shakira album while dragging in a bottle of Jose Cuervo. She saw it too… but did not say anything…we all have the same feelings… and almost the same experience… almost…