Mexican Identity Crisis

“Is she really your mother?” asked the surprised, middle-aged woman who stood right aside me. My mother, making her way through the crowded church, was approaching me as she wanted to take pictures with my family and I at my nine-year-old sister’s first communion. The woman seemed shocked as she stared at my light skin and slightly wavy hair in contrast to my mother who had tanned skin and hair full of gorgeous, dark curls. At a young age, I did not understand how much of a big deal it was that I did not look anything like my mother. I knew the fact that I was not completely Mexican but, I was not completely white either. Growing up as a mixed child, many people would often point out the differences in my appearance between my mother and I. Many of the Hispanic people I knew would always tell me I was too white to

I felt as if I was going through an identity crisis, I could only be either white or Mexican. I asked many people for advice as to what to do yet all they could tell me was to just ignore it. I wanted to just “ignore it” but I felt as if that would only hurt me more. Alas, I had decided to follow unhelpful suggestions only in hopes that it would put an abrupt end to my so-called identity crisis. Months had passed yet I was still left with a huge internal conflict that I had been dealing with for so long. Aside from the problem I had been encountering at the time, one of the biggest and most important holidays that my mother’s family celebrated was right around the corner. That momentous day was Christmas Eve. I recall entering their home that smelled of Rosca de Reyes, a special cake consumed by many Latin Americans on Christmas day, and witnessing all the beautiful poinsettia flowers arranged in a beautiful display across their home. I saw my mother’s family together, talking in their native tongue and enjoying each other’s company. It’s an image of my family that I will always keep in my