Mexican? Latino? Brown? What it means to be brown in White America.
I think it's only appropriate to come back to the realm of livejournal by a question that has been brewing in me since I was small: Who am I?
What is it to be brown in America? I grew up in America at the age of 5 with a brother and mother who spoke no English. As far as I can remember I grew up going to school and observing my mother go to work early in the morning, saying goodbye with a kiss while I prepare school. I never knew where she went or why she leave me alone. I woke up early around 5:30 am and leave for school at 6:30 to catch the early school breakfast as my mother didn't leave any food but left me with some plain wheat bread to take while I walk alone to school. While walking to school, I looked at other children walking with adults, people walking with them while I walked with a neighbors family. I spoke not a single word of English, which was difficult to learn in school and at home. It was difficult to learn at home as my mother did not know how to read or write. I was left alone looking at the papers with a blank face, viewing papers with a confused face, and after a while it became apparent that my mother was called upon by my first grade teacher. My mother tried to talk to my Caucasian teacher, Ms.Cole, that she's can't help me as she did not go to school, she tried as much as he could with hand signals and with the response of Ms. Cole in terrible broken Spanish. I was ashamed and distraught with the experience of being unable to communicate, unable to enjoy the company of other classmates; I was isolated during lunch time; isolated during recess time; isolated when I went home to only find my mother working while the next day going to school with undone homework. Although my story can entertained for a while I would like to say that my story begins and continues through my experiences and being where I grew up-- namely in isolation from others.