Spanglish: A Mexican-American in our midst

By Nadine Gilmer
Sun contributor
Part two in a series on local Hispanics living in northern Michigan
I remember two childhoods. There is one in Mexico, with my cousins and my numerous relatives, and good food, and noise and life filling every nook and cranny. I also remember my childhood in the United States This one had Burger King and its playgrounds, daycare, friends, condensed soup and Labrador retrievers. Sometimes I feel like I grew up twice because those two settings are so different, they’re not even comparable. For a child, it’s almost like going to another world in your head, except that it’s real and you need an airplane to get there. And for that matter, I remember a third childhood spent waiting for my flights in Chicago’s O’Hare Airport. I’ve had two childhoods that were completely different, although both were happy, because my mother is Mexican, born and raised, and my father is American.

Let me take you back. My mother was a young woman in Sahuayo Michoacan Mexico, a mountain town not known as the typical tourist destination. My father had a shoe company. He designed the shoes, and a shoe company in this town made them. His trips to Mexico were on business. They met in a traditional little restaurant near the plaza and corresponded for about a year before they married and moved up to the cold north. When I was to be born, 15 years ago, my mother flew down to Mexico and had me surrounded by the comfort of her own family and language. Because I was born in Mexico but had two American citizens for parents, I was granted dual citizenship. Throughout my childhood I stayed mostly in the U.S, where my parents lived and worked, but we also took extended trips to Mexico to visit our family.
My mother always spoke to me in Spanish so as not to mix the languages together, whereas my father spoke in English. This way I learned both languages at the same time and was able to separate the two. My trips to Mexico also taught me my motherland’s culture, and I can juxtapose it with that of America. When I see Mexico it’s from a Mexican’s point of view, and the United States doesn’t seem foreign to me either. Nothing that many Americans find surprising about the land south of the border seem in the least bit strange to me because it’s what I grew up with.
I love my unbiased position that gives me a clear view over the faults and wonders of each culture. It also helps me see what’s wrong with stereotyping.
The attitudes of people up here have improved. Upon arriving in northern Michigan, my mother was asked if she had a phone in her house. She does, in fact she has a few. Now we can watch Mexican channels on television, so we are raised knowing that there is technology in Mexico.
Mexicans aren’t all dark-skinned, dark-haired people who walk around on dirt floors and cook strange foods over an open fire. They have floors and kitchens. Even visitors to Mexico think that my mom’s people are poor because of their differences in lifestyle. For example, many houses have open spaces, or a room with no roof over it. This is usually a room where clothes are hung to dry — easier to do in a hot climate. No, Mexicans don’t usually have air conditioning or heating or thick walls, but that is only an adaptation they have made to the climate.
Mexicans are also raised with the idea that clutter is bad. As Americans we don’t realize how much junk we have, most of which we don’t even need. Mexicans simply cut that out of their lifestyle. As for dark skin and dark hair, yes, there are more dark-haired people in Mexico than in the United States, but many would never be indentified as Mexicans. I even have a cousin with dark read hair and freckles who looks Irish. And I have a blond cousin and another one with very light brown hair.
Food is another misconception. Taco Bell is not Mexican food. And Americans invented nachos. Sure, we do use tortillas and beans, but that’s about it. Mexican food, in my opinion, is better. The snacks that the vendors sell on the streets include garbanzo beans (my personal favorite) and different kinds of fruit. Yes, there is the occasional churo, which to the American eye would look like a giant French fry covered in cinnamon, but it’s still better than a Big Mac.
Living in northern Michigan, we appreciate fresh cherries. What if the oranges were just picked the morning you ate them? It’s a different world when everything you buy is fresh. Shopping south of the border can be lovely and even a little medieval, especially when entering the markets. And the big surprise is that Mexican food is nowhere near as spicy as it’s perceived up to be here. We have sauces that are far removed from ketchup for our tacos but they are usually very mild. It’s only the masochistic eaters presenting both countries who apply the hottest sauces. My mother had never used cumin until she came to the U.S. Cumin, though used in copious amounts in every so-called Mexican dish here, is rarely used in Mexico. And we don’t eve use melted yellow dipping cheese. Instead, we use queso fresco, which is something like feta cheese only less salty.
Of course, Mexicans have their own misconceptions about Americans. They think that everyone from El Norte has blond hair and blue eyes. They also think that we have too much money and spend it on frivolous things. When Mexicans come to the United States and shiver all the time, it’s usually not from the actual temperature change, but from a preconceived notion that this country is freezing. (Not all of Mexico is hot either. In the mountains there is snow) Sadly, many Mexicans also think that all American girls are easier because of their liberal lifestyles and have no restraints at all, running wild and doing things not sanctioned by the church.
Because of these stereotypes, both nations are wary of each other. Mexicans are afraid of America’s wild stupidity, and Americans are afraid that Mexicans will rob them blind. But neither of these are reasonable fears. There are a few exceptions, and they stand out because we always tend to focus on the dramatic. These little misconceptions easily manifest into stereotypes.
Just for the record. Mexicans aren’t dirty. In fact, if anything, they are more vain than most Americans. They bathe more often and are religious about fixing themselves up. The Mexicans I know always wear shoes because they don’t like to get their feet dirty.
I loved growing up in two different countries and seeing two completely different cultures. I wish everyone here could experience how genuine and full the life is in Mexico, and the way activities like shopping in the market can feel so medieval yet modern at the same time, or the way you fall asleep to dogs barking on the rooftops of houses, or the roosters crowing and vendors calling out the name of their products, or the way the door is always left open and a constant stream of friends and relatives are encouraged to enter and talk with the utmost emotion and honesty. And I wish that all Mexicans could experience this life of secure luxury we have here in all its decadence, or the American way of seeing the world as open and ready for us to devour, and the thousands of choices we have here, from countless ice cream flavors to more important things like jobs and futures, and the opportunity to do what you want with your life.