Becoming

When I was growing up in South Georgia, there wasn't a whole lot of diversity. Things have definitely changed since my day, but many times I was the only little Hispanic in my class. The funny thing is, I was sort of discount Hispanic, a knock-off mixed kid who barely knew how to tell Nanny I was hungry in Spanish. This didn't stop the whities around me from asking "What are you? Cuz you don't look totally white." I remember being chosen in Chorus Class to sing La Bamba in front of the class because I was the most ethnically appropriate. Ay ay ay!

Times change. I grow up, some real life Mexicans move into town, and I realize I'm a kinda watered-down version of the real deal. I hit puberty and became more and more Caucasian. We were brown children when we were little, but my brother and I have completely metamorphosed into white guys with faint Hispanic traces. Even though my sister's held onto her ethnic looks a bit, the Puerto Rican genes have been sifted through so many generations that her Baby came out super white. My mom sighed in disappointment at Whitey Junior's complexion. For the most part we've physically grown out of our heritage even as we emotionally pull ourselves closer.

So I'm just going to take a few smug moments to relish the fact that I'm getting tan, getting darker, and that the outside's starting to match how the inside feels.