Black with White Stripes or White with Black Stripes?

Blogging about my depression has seemed to help in the past, so I thought I'd give it a go again.

About a week ago my depression started getting pretty bad again. Many things have probably contributed: being sick, being sick again on top of being sick, being stressed about moving, being stressed about everything, and just life's wear and tear in general.

Talking more openly about my specific battle with depression has made me more aware of it. It's almost like an outer body experience. I can hear myself saying negative and almost always irrational things, and at the same time there is a part of me, floating around somewhere going, "That's depression! Just tell it to piss off!" A lot of times that will work, but this week I've just let myself sink deeper and deeper into negativity.

Tonight while I talked to Diego I said something to the effect of, "I guess I've just been kidding myself for the last several months thinking I could be happy. This is who I really am."

Almost immediately I questioned what I had said (or actually, typed, since Diego and I were chatting online). It sounded very definite and final. Am I really just a severely depressed person who is occasionally happy? Or am I a generally happy person who struggles with depression?

I thought of one of my favorite kid movies, Madagascar, and Marty the Zebra's soul searching question, "I'm ten years old. My life is half over and I don't even know if I'm black with white stripes or white with black stripes!"

It's a little paradoxical, because when I am in that mode of depression where no rational person or thought can penetrate my bubble of negativity, I AM a depressed person that can sometimes fight off my depression, and fool everyone into thinking that I am happy. But when I am happy and that fog of depression is not clouding my intellect, I know that I struggle with depression, but it does not define me.

The truth is, depression will probably never completely leave me in this mortal life. I will always grapple with that question, "Am I black with white stripes or white with black stripes?" Maybe there is no answer. Maybe I am both.

Maybe the key is to stop trying to define myself in black and white and see myself rather in the array of colors that I am.

I am a music loving, Spanish speaking, cookie eating girl (woman, I guess I have to be a woman now that I'm technically in my "late" 20s). I am a wife to the most attractive Peruvian man on the planet. I am the mother of the most adorable little girl. I am opinionated and I can be loud. I am a clown--I love to make other people laugh. I'm an aspiring author who has no idea when my first book will be done. I arrange concerts and musical numbers and choreograph dances...in my head. Someday they will become a reality. I dream of starting my own school in Peru to teach English while using theater and music. I am a daughter of God, who loves me, and I love Him!

That's me. Those are my colors. Forget black and white.

Mobilization and the Creation of Transnational Identity in Salvadoran Migrants

Originally written: February 21, 2008

Mobilization and the movement of people are an integral part of life in the twenty-first century. With the effects of globalization, especially the improvement of technology and transportation, movement is become more and more possible. However, there are several different implications of mobilization and migration. In the case of El Salvador, as well as many other Central American countries, migration to places like the United States, Canada, and other more stable countries has been prompted by warfare, violence, corruption, and economic devastation. Mobilization creates a phenomenon called transnationalism, where a person is caught between two different cultures and nations. Baker-Cristales defines transnationalism as "a way of construing the world that selectively incorporates practices and beliefs from both El Salvador and the United States in a fluid set of social practices." All Salvadoran migrants have felt the impact of having a transnational identity to different degrees.

The history of El Salvador plays an important part in understanding the complex characteristics of transnational identity. Like the majority of Latin American countries, El Salvador was colonized by the Spanish. The initial conflicts began as ethnic skirmishes between the indigenous people and the European settlers. This created a distinct ethnic division in the county. After a bloody massacre in 1932, the indigenous identity was greatly downplayed. El Salvador became a much more homogeneous population ethnically. From that point on, rather than focusing on ethnic division, economic class distinctions were made more obvious. Communism emerged as a popular school of though, with a concern for the rights of the proletariat. In this political and social climate, civil war emerged in the late 1970s and lasted through the early 1990s. The war stemmed from years of class conflict. Approximately 75,000 people died in the Salvadoran civil war. It completely devastated families, communities, and the economy. It also prompted a huge wave of migration, with many people trying to escape the violence of war.

Even after the peace treaty was signed in 1992, migration continued to be high. Many sought asylum in the United States. "Estimates of the number of Salvadorans in the United States today range from over 1 million to as many as 2 million out of a total population of 6.3 million" (Baker-Cristales). Because of the steady flow of migration, the economy of El Salvador is run almost entirely by remittances (money sent back to their home country) from relatives in the United Sates and other countries where a better living is offered. Most of the people who migrate from El Salvador are middle class, as the opportunities for travel and migration are much more limited to the poor.

The two biggest results of the civil war and increased migration are the creation of a transnational identity and a remittance economy. In order to better understand the transnational identity of Salvadoran migrants, many different interviews and surveys have been conducted within Salvadoran communities all over the United States. In the article, "The Interrupted Circle: Truncated Transnationalism and the Salvadoran Experience," the study focuses specifically on Salvadoran migrants in New Jersey, and their families they left behind in El Salvador. In the article, the authors discuss the many issues that migrants face in the transnational lifestyle. They also claim that the Salvadoran migrants are experiencing a "truncated transnationalism" because of the difficulty in gaining legal documentation in the United States. They say that the Salvadorans live an "interrupted circle," which is missing elements of the regular migration circle: separation, experience, and return. Because of the unstable economy back home, return is almost always impossible. This created many emotional issues with Salvadoran migrants. They long for home, but they are supporting their families by staying in the United States. Because of the difficult process of gaining citizenship in the United States, they must sometimes cut off all ties from their home country. However, often the only reason they are in the United States in the first place is to better their economic situation and then return to their home country. It is a paradoxical situation. Ines M. Miyares describes it like this, "They must create place ties in the US to convince state authorities that it is life-threatening to physically return to El Salvador in order to be granted the legal right to visit 'home.'"

Another result of the civil war and large influx of migration is the creation of a remittance economy. According to Baker-Cristales, "The Salvadoran economy and countless Salvadoran families have developed a dependence upon migrant remittances, the single largest source of income in the country." The economy of El Salvador has been described as stagnant. They are so dependent on foreign remittances and migrant help; they are unable to develop their own functioning economy. The only viable choice in order to help your family for many Salvadorans is to migrate and make a living abroad. Although conditions may seem worse when compared to middle class Americans, Salvadoran migrants are able to make a significantly higher salary in the United States working for very base pay than they could if they stayed in their home country.

El Salvador's bloody and violent history, hand in hang with political corruption and social class distinction, has created a transnational population abroad and a remittance economy at home. Because of this, Salvadoran face many different problems. They are torn between two countries. Many of the migrants are unable to return home and are permanently separated from their families and loved ones. There are children growing up in El Salvador who only know their parents through the remittances they send home and an occasional letter or phone call. The only way to fix the problem is to begin building  a new infrastructure in El Salvador and slowly wean it from its dependency on foreign remittances. If people continue to leave the country to live and work abroad, there will be no improvement in the problems at home.


Salvadoran Transformations: Class Consciousness and Ethnic Identity in a Transnational Milieu (Beth Baker-Cristales)

The Interrupted Circle: Truncated Transnationalism and the Salvadoran Experience (Ines M. Miyares)

Trending Now: Depression

I have suffered from depression nearly all my life.

Maybe.

From a very young age I had really bad self-esteem. I used to list the reasons I hated myself. I would come home from school and analyze everything I had said and done, every single human interaction I had been through that day. Then I would start beating myself up for stupid things I had said and done.

I had a really great support net in high school. I had a strong group of friends that stuck with me through the tough times that surely every teenager goes through. There were times when I would want to disappear, to cease to exist. But overall I did pretty well.

The first couple years of college I also had wonderful friends. I am a super yellow extrovert, and social interactions are really important to my emotional well-being. So even though I would get pretty down every month or so, I always got back up.

I went on a 18-month mission to Honduras when I was 21. There were days when I couldn't leave my house because I was so depressed. But I thought that was normal, too.

The depression really culminated months after I returned home. I was living in an apartment with 4 other girls at school, but I was in a serious long-distance relationship and they were all single. My social interactions basically just ceased to exist. I stopped going to my classes. I stopped bathing. I stopped eating. For the first time in my life, I couldn't get out of that hole. All I wanted to do was stay in bed for the rest of my life and wither away into nothing. I would start bawling for no reason at all and not be able to get a hold of myself for hours. I constantly wanted to hurt myself.

That's when I decided I needed some help. I went to a counselor for the first time ever. I started taking medicine--something I had convinced myself I would never need. I wanted to talk myself out of it. The thought of taking medicine for my depression made me feel like a failure.

But the medicine helped. I was finally able to lift up my heavy head and be somewhat productive with my life. I graduated from college, got married, and had a baby. There were difficult moments, but I was able to triumph over them.

Right before I had my baby, I stopped taking my depression meds. I didn't want them to effect her in any way during pregnancy or breastfeeding. I thought I didn't need them anymore. I was sure it was a temporary crutch that had taught me a lesson.

It's been a little over 9 months now. Things were going pretty well up until about a month ago. I started dreading the idea of turning 26. I missed my friends. I felt completely alone. I was only able to see the negative things that were happening to me. I started to do things that I'd done before I got on the medicine. I tried to freeze myself to death in the snow. If my husband hadn't found me, I probably would have stayed outside the entire night.

Nearly two weeks ago, in a fit of depression, I erased about 500 friends from Facebook. Friends who have been there for me for a long time. But I felt let down, left out. I thought, "They won't even notice." And perhaps they haven't.

The point of this post was not really to drone on about my pathetic depressive tendencies, though. It was because the other day I was on the home page of Yahoo. There is a box on the right side of the page that says, "Trending Now:" I was surprised to see "depression" listed.

My first thought was, "Oh, what, it's a trend now? It's trendy?" Then I felt mad. As though other people being depressed would somehow diminish the fact that I was/am depressed.

It's what keeps a lot of people who have depression from doing anything about it, I think. When you see that it is "trending" all of the sudden, it seems like it can't be that big of a deal. You probably are just really sad. If anyone out there is anything like me, the LAST thing you want to be is like everybody else.

But I've been thinking about it a lot over the last few days. Just because it seems to becoming more common does not make depression any less serious or worthy of treating. That just doesn't make sense. That would be like me saying that because more and more people have diabetes or cancer or any other life-threatening disease, that it is not that big of a deal, or that it's all in my head.

It is a big deal.

And it needs to be taken care of. If I have to go back on medicine for a while, or meet with a counselor, then so be it. My husband needs me, my daughter needs me. My life is still important, even when I think I'm just any old regular nobody who has depression just like everybody else.

In fact, in a way, it's kind of nice to know that there are others out there who know what it is like to want to stop living. To give up. Because if we understand how that feels, it might be easier for us to have compassion on others.


P.S. If you happen to be reading this, and I erased you on Facebook--I'm sorry. Feel free to add me again, or I will probably go back and try to re-add most of the people I unfriended.

Half-Hearted Traditions are Traditions Nonetheless

Today is December 13, which means it is once again St. Lucia's Day.

St. Lucia's Day is a Swedish holiday that we celebrate in my family. Are we Swedish? Not really. I'm sure if you go far enough back in our genealogy you can find some Swedes. However, we have been celebrating St. Lucia's Day since I was in first grade. The story goes something like this.

I had an American Girl doll named Kirsten.

She was Swedish and since my mom had told me that one of my great great grandfathers was also Swedish, I identified with her. That, and she had blonde hair, like me. I read a book where she celebrates St. Lucia's Day and asked my mom if we could do the same. So we did. This is my first Saint Lucia's Day.

Dressing up was more important when I was younger. Once I got a little older my little sister and I started looking up more information about St. Lucia's Day and the traditional food. We started getting up really early in the morning to make bread with my mom. After the bread was made we would go from room to room with bread and hot cocoa on our trays and candles to wake up the family for breakfast.

After several years, my mom would sleep in (or maybe just let us think she was) and just my sister and I would wake up early to make the bread and dress up in our white dresses and red sashes.

Over the years we've gotten a bit more laid back about our celebration of St. Lucia's Day, but every December 13th, I can't help but remember what day it is.

Last year, we brought our nieces over to the house to teach them about St. Lucia's Day and make bread with them at crazy hours of the morning.

You can see we had to get creative with our white "dresses"

This year, there was no dressing up, but I did manage to make the traditional St. Lucia's day bread by lunchtime. It is important to me to keep this tradition going. It may not be passed down from our great great grandparents from the "old country," but it is part of my holiday memories growing up. It is something my brothers and sisters and parents and I share and something I want to share with my own little Lucia as she gets older.

Whatever your traditions, however small or seemingly insignificant they may be, keep them going! Traditions strengthen families in a very subtle way. And don't be daunted if you don't have family traditions. Start new ones!

[EDIT]

Here is a little more information about St. Lucia's Day (from Wikipedia):

"Saint Lucia's Day is the church feast day dedicated to Lucia of Syracuse (d.304), also known as Saint Lucy, and is observed on 13 December. St. Lucia’s Day is celebrated most commonly in Italy and in Scandinavia, with each emphasizing a different aspect of the story. It is one of the very few saint days observed in Scandinavia. In traditional celebrations, Saint Lucy comes as a young woman with lights and sweets. In some forms, a procession is headed by one girl wearing a crown of candles (or lights), while others in the procession hold only a single candle each."

For more information, go here.

Odio mis dientes

Cuando yo era una niña empecé a tener algunos problemas con mi autoestima. La mayoría de ellos provenía directamente de mi apariencia física. Cuando tenía unos 12 o 13 años hacía una lista de todas las cosas que odiaba sobre mí. Estas listas incluían cosas como ojeras bien oscuras, pecas,  los dientes feos, y ser plana de pecho (sí, a los 13 años me preocupaba que yo nunca sería lo suficientemente tetona).

Cuando entré en mi adolescencia, mi autoestima en realidad subió un poco. Esto puede haber sido debido al hecho de que me mudé cuando tenía 15 años, y los chicos empezaron a prestarme atención. Y cuando los chicos te presten atención, significa que eres bonita, ¿verdad?

A través de un poco más de maduración y crecimiento espiritual, he aprendido a valorarme por lo que soy, una hija de Dios con un valor infinito, y no por mi apariencia. Sin embargo, siempre ha habido una cosa que me hace muy incómoda.

Odio mis dientes.

Ahí está, lo dije. Yo totalmente y completamente detesto mis dientes. Y no me gusta hablar de ellos. De hecho, no me gusta hablar de los dientes en general. La palabra "dientes " me da asco. Tal vez porque me acuerdo de mis propios dientes imperfectos, que han sido un punto de dolor durante todo el tiempo que puedo recordar. Si alguna vez el tema de la conversación llega a los dientes, inmediatamente me quedo callada. No voy a hablar, para garantizar que ni un poco de la atención se dirige hacia mi boca.

De hecho, ese párrafo ahí fue muy difícil para mí escribir. En serio. Porque ahora todos ustedes están viendo mis dientes, ¿verdad?

Bueno, la razón por la que he hecho esta confesión pública es debido a esto: ya no me molesta. Y no voy a permitir que me incomode más.

La razón de este cambio milagroso viene de una charla que estaba escuchando hace unas semanas. Era un devocional de BYU del agosto pasado por la profesora Kristen L. Matthews y se titula: "El valor de las almas es grande."

En su discurso, Matthews dice lo siguiente,

"Hemos creado categorías como la nacionalidad, la raza, el origen étnico, sexo, religión, partido político, el estado civil, y así sucesivamente para organizar y dar sentido a la diversidad de la humanidad. Sin embargo, demasiado a menudo usamos estos sistemas aparentemente descriptivos para determinar el valor de los demás. Estas jerarquías artificiales de valor pueden causar división, discordia y comprensión sesgada de autoestima.

Uno de los sistemas de valoración que tiene consecuencias negativas para los sentimientos de valor individual es la belleza. Los seres humanos hacen todo lo posible para alcanzar un ideal entrenamientos belleza extrema, cirugía plástica, trastornos de la alimentación, rituales maquillaje elaborados, amplia cabello y tratamientos de uñas, y la compra compulsiva. Todos estos comportamientos se derivan del deseo de ser bella porque se nos ha enseñado a creer que las personas bellas son más valiosas que otros.

Recuerde: la belleza ideal es una construcción de este mundo. Podemos señalar a los sospechosos habituales de este falso sistema de valor de la industria de la moda, la publicidad, la televisión, etcétera. Y sí, nos bombardean con imágenes que dicen: "Esto es hermoso. Si eres esto, serás popular, que serás importante, serás deseable para ser novia o esposa, que serás digna de ser amada.”

La frase "la belleza ideal es una construcción de este mundo" resonó dentro de mí. En el momento en que empezó a hablar de la belleza, inmediatamente pensé en mis dientes. Pero tan pronto como ella dijo que "la belleza ideal es una construcción de este mundo," recuerdo que pensé: "Así que... ¿quién es el que dice que la forma de mis dientes me hace más fea?"

Tal vez sea porque cuando vas al dentista con los dientes "torcidos " o "imperfectos" te ofrecerán a "arreglarlos." Y la oficina del dentista no parece ser un lugar para promover la belleza superficial. Sería para su salud, ¿verdad? Porque el dentista es como un médico.

Este no es un mensaje para antagonizar los dentistas, sino más bien es para que yo me quede claro en algo. No hay una "belleza ideal."

La frase "La belleza está en el ojo del que mira" es realmente cierto. Estamos condicionados desde una edad muy joven para ser espectadores  que juzgan la belleza de acuerdo a las normas que nos traen revistas, programas de televisión y películas.

No dejen que uno (o varios) de sus características físicas les detengan o te hagan sentir de menos.

Élder Jeffrey R. Holland dijo lo siguiente:

“La atención excesiva al yo personal y el énfasis en el físico es más que demencia social; es espiritualmente destructivo y es responsable de gran parte de la desdicha con que las mujeres, entre ellas las jovencitas, se enfrentan en el mundo de hoy. Y si los adultos se preocupan de la apariencia —de hacerse estirar la piel, de recortarla o de hacerse implantar objetos en el cuerpo, o de hacerse modificar todo a lo que se le pueda dar nueva forma— esas preocupaciones y angustias seguramente tendrán un efecto en los hijos.”

Eso va para las mujeres y los hombres. Como una nueva madre de una hermosa niña, yo quiero que mi hija sepa que si ella no se parece a la supermodelo tradicional en una portada de revista, eso está bien. El hecho de que no se parece a otra persona no le quita nada de su propia belleza y ciertamente no de su valor infinito.

Tal vez no tengo los dientes “perfectos” según un ortodontista, pero  yo todavía soy hermosa.

Referencias:

Kristen L. Matthews, El Valor de las Almas es Grande. BYU Devotional, 13 agosto 2013.

Jeffrey R. Holland, Alas mujeres jóvenes. La conferencia general, octubre de 2005.

La versión en inglés: I Have an Overbite...and That's Okay.

I have an overbite...and that's okay.

When I was a fairly young child, I started having some major self-esteem issues. Most of them stemmed directly from my physical appearance. When I was around 12 or 13 I would make lists of all of the things I hated about myself. These lists would include things like having dark circles under my eyes, having freckles, having ugly teeth, and being flat chested (yes, at 13 I was worried that I would never be busty enough).

As I entered my teenage years, my self-esteem actually went up quite a bit. This may have been due to the fact that I moved when I was 15, and boys started paying attention to me. And when boys pay attention to you, it means you are pretty, right? (Please note the sarcasm.)

Through some maturation and definite spiritual growth, I learned to value myself for who I was, a daughter of God with infinite worth, and not by what I looked like. Nevertheless, there has always been one thing that makes me extremely uncomfortable.

I have an overbite.

There, I said it. I absolutely and completely detest my teeth. And I hate talking about them. In fact, I hate talking about teeth in general. The word “teeth” makes me cringe. Maybe because I am reminded of my own imperfect teeth, which have been a sore spot for as long as I can remember. If ever the topic of conversation comes to teeth, I immediately go quiet. I will not contribute, so as to ensure that not an ounce of attention is directed towards my mouth.

In fact, that paragraph right there was really hard for me to write. Seriously. Because now you are all looking at my teeth, right?

Well, the reason I have come out and made this public confession is because of this: it no longer bothers me. And I will not allow it to make me uncomfortable anymore.

The reason for this miraculous change comes from a talk that I was listening to a few weeks ago. It was given at a BYU devotional this past August by professor Kristen L. Matthews and is entitled, “The Worth of Souls is Great.”

In her talk, Matthews says the following,

“We have created categories such as nationality, race, ethnicity, sex, religious affiliation, political party, marital status, and so on to organize and make sense of humankind’s diversity. However, too often we use these seemingly descriptive systems to determine the worth of others. These human-made hierarchies of value can cause division, contention, and skewed understandings of self-worth.

One system of valuation that has negative consequences for feelings of individual worth is beauty. Human beings go to great lengths to achieve some ideal beauty—extreme workouts, plastic surgery, eating disorders, elaborate makeup rituals, extensive hair and nail treatments, and compulsive shopping. All of these behaviors stem from the desire to be beautiful because we are taught to believe that beautiful people are more valuable than others.

Remember: ideal beauty is a construction of this world. We can point to the usual suspects for this false system of value—the fashion industry, advertising, television, and so on. And yes, we are bombarded with images that say, “This is beautiful. If you are this, you will be popular, you will be important, you will be datable, you will be marriageable, you will be worth loving.”

The phrase “ideal beauty is a construction of this world” really stuck out to me. The moment she started to talk about beauty, I immediately thought of my overbite. But as soon as she said that “ideal beauty is a construction of this world,” I remember thinking, “So...who is it that says that my overbite makes me uglier?”

Maybe it’s because when you go to the dentist with “crooked” or “imperfect” teeth, they will offer to “fix” them for you. And the dentist's office doesn't seem like a place to promote superficial beauty. It would be for your health, right? Because the dentist is like a doctor.

This is not a post to antagonize dentists, but rather to come to grips with something myself. There is no “ideal beauty.”

The phrase “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder” is really true. We are conditioned from a very young age to be “beholders” who judge beauty according to standards brought to us by magazines and TV shows and movies.

Don’t let one (or many) of your physical characteristics hold you back or bring you down.

Elder Jeffrey R. Holland said this:

“In terms of preoccupation with self and a fixation on the physical, this is more than social insanity; it is spiritually destructive, and it accounts for much of the unhappiness women, including young women, face in the modern world. And if adults are preoccupied with appearance—tucking and nipping and implanting and remodeling everything that can be remodeled—those pressures and anxieties will certainly seep through to children.”

That goes for women and men. As a new mother of a beautiful baby girl, I want my daughter to know that if she doesn't look like the traditional supermodel on a magazine cover, that’s okay. Just because you don’t look like someone else doesn't detract at all from your own beauty and certainly not from your infinite worth.

I have an overbite. And I’m still beautiful.

References:

Kristen L. Matthews, The Worth of Souls is Great. BYU Devotionals, Aug 2013.

Jeffrey R. Holland, To Young Women. General Conference, Oct 2005.

P.S.

If you happen to feel bad about some flaw or your teeth (like me), check out this photo gallery I found from MSN!

Flaws We Love

American Girl

pa·tri·ot·ism

 [pey-tree-uh-tiz-uhm or, esp. British, pa-]  Show IPA

noun

devoted love, support, and defense of one's country; national loyalty.

I vaguely remember a history class from high school on the subject of nation building. One of the ways that leaders would build up and fortify their fledgling nations would be by encouraging patriotism. This was often accomplished by creating a national identity for all persons living within the often arbitrary borders of a new nation or country, regardless of diversity.

The problem with national identities is that they don’t leave much room for diversity. Because the whole point of creating a unified national identity in order to promote patriotism is to show your citizens that they are very much the same, have them identify with each other, and thus with their country.

The biggest challenge in creating a national identity is that it’s not very easy to generalize every physical, emotional, and philosophical characteristic of a population of billions of individuals. Or rather, it IS easy, but seldom, if ever, correct.

For example, when I think of Sweden, I think of blonde people. I don’t really know where I got that stereotype from, but it’s stuck with me for a long type. I’ve only ever met one Swede before, and she was blonde. But I bet I could find a ton of other people in Sweden who are not blonde.

National identity has always been something I’ve struggled with. I grew up in a small(ish) town in Southern California called Mira Mesa, where a great majority of residents are Asian. I remember coming home from kindergarten and asking my mom if I could dye my hair black because I was the only blonde in my class. I also remember my seventh grade science teacher, Mrs. Ki, starting off class each day by inviting everyone to tell blonde jokes (again, with me being the only blonde in that particular class).

I don’t know if that is where I began to develop this idea that national identities are rather superficial. I certainly didn’t feel like I belonged (at least in physical appearance) to the majority of kids in school. And yet, some of my best friends were Chinese, Filipino, and Vietnamese. My favorite food was lumpia and we sang karaoke at everyone’s birthday party (except mine, hahaha).

American Girl

There’s been this song playing on the radio a lot lately. Its lyrics and especially its title got me thinking again about national identity.

The song is called “American Girl” by Bonnie McKee. Here are some of her lyrics:

I fell in love in a 7/11 parking lot

Sat on the curb drinking slurpees we mixed with alcohol

We talked about all our dreams and how we would show 'em all (whoa oh oh oh)

…

I just keep moving my body (yeah)

I'm always ready to party (yeah)

No I don't listen to mommy (yeah)

And I'll never say that I'm sorry

Oh I'm an American girl

Hot blooded and I'm ready to go I'm loving taking over the world

Hot blooded, all american girl (Whoa)

I was raised by a television

Everyday is a competition

Put the key in my ignition (Oh-way-oh)

I wanna see all the stars and everything in between

I wanna buy a new heart out of a vending machine

Cause It's a free country so baby we can do anything (Whoa)

Just a silly song, right? But some phrases really caught my attention-- “I was raised by a television”-- “Everyday is a competition”-- “Cause it’s a free country so we can do anything.”

This is how one person identifies herself as an American. But...I’m an American right? I mean, I was born in the United States and I’ve lived here most of my life. Yet, I don’t really identify with anything in her song (except maybe 7/11...who doesn’t love a good slurpee?)

Real Miss America

Then I started thinking about some recent events I’ve seen in the news. I won’t go into them in detail, but I’ll leave some links in case you don’t know what I’m talking about.

Miss America 2014 (Nina Davuluri)

Marc Anthony Singing God Bless America at the MLB All-Star Games

Sebastien de la Cruz singing National Anthem at the NBA Finals

In each one of these events, someone received a lot of criticism for not living up to someone else’s idea of the American national identity. That arbitrary, superficial national identity that may be somewhat prevalent. In fact, someone even took the time to show what a real American looks like.

If that is the criteria, they might as well kick me out of the country right now.

National Identity vs. Personal Identity

Now, back to this idea of national identity. I understand its importance in a way. Everyone wants something to belong to, something to identify with. My husband lights up every time he meets a fellow Peruvian here, because they have things in common; they have a shared national identity. But when we let national identity overrule the right to have a personal identity, it has gone wrong.

About a year and a half ago I was talking to a coworker about movies. She said I should watch Captain America because it was a great movie. But then she added hesitantly, “Although, I don’t know if you would like it because its really patriotic.”

Somehow in the months that we had known each other, I had inadvertently convinced my coworker that I was not patriotic and maybe even “un-American.” It might have been because I’d married someone from a different country. Maybe because I have this weird fascination with other countries, especially Latin America. Or maybe because I often complained about our retarded immigration policies, and how difficult it had been for my husband to legally get here.

Calling someone “un-American” is a ridiculous concept because the whole idea of one true national identity is just bunk. You can describe things that were invented in the United States, you can recite different historical events that might bring us together, but if you base a national identity, especially in the United States, on the color of someone’s skin, their religion (or lack thereof), their country of origin, or their opinion on anything, you are just wrong. Especially the opinion one. Even the comparatively few governing leaders of our country aren’t unified on that one.

We need to stop putting so much emphasis on our personal opinion of what an “American” looks like or talks like or thinks like, and focus more on working together despite differences. And celebrating differences! Because really, when you color a picture with just one color crayon, it’s pretty boring. If you pull out the whole box, it gets much more interesting.

One Last Thought

This is Lucia.

Lucia is my adorable 4 month old daughter. She is American by birth (because she was born in the United States and so was her mommy). She is also Peruvian, by virtue of her birth to one Peruvian parent (my husband) and the fact that we registered her birth with the Peruvian consulate so she can have dual-citizenship.

I want my daughter to understand and learn about her Peruvian heritage and her American heritage. I want her to be able to identify with as many people as she can. This will be accomplished through teaching her and exposing her to a few different national identities. However, first and foremost I want her to know that she is a daughter of God, a daughter of Diego and Hannah Cabrera, and her own individual person. This will help her to create her own individual identity.

Don’t let people’s individual identity exclude them from your concept of national identity. Instead, let each individual identity contribute to a grander, broader, and more accepting national identity. 

Oh, and God bless America!!