There are many ways to be multiracial.
We’ve recently entered Hispanic Heritage Month, which goes from Sept. 15 to Oct. 15 each year. While I’m not really a fan of the term “Hispanic,” which focuses on relationships with Spanish and the country of Spain, I still appreciate the month’s dedication to Latino/a/x people and cultures. It’s nice to see celebrations of Hispanic Heritage Month in Fargo, because North Dakota is pretty different from where I grew up in southern California.
Even though my last name is “Williamson,” I don’t have a strong connection to it or the assumed culture it is associated with. I’m not even sure what kind of white I am, since my biological grandpa on my dad’s side abandoned our family before my dad grew up. I’m white on my dad’s side, but I’m Cuban on my mom’s side. I’ve always felt stuck in a weird inbetween, too gringa in my hometown and too Cuban in the Midwest, largely because of my last name.
When I was younger, I didn’t feel especially different. However, as I grew older, some of my experiences were shaped because of my assumed racial identity. One of the first memories I have of this was in 10th grade history, where we learned about the Cuban Missile Crisis and some classmates jokingly called me a communist. It didn’t bother me that much at the time, but the memory has always remained.
The negative experiences I had as an adult were more offensive to me. I had severe back pain when I worked as a Walmart cashier my first year of college. When I went to see my old, white male doctor, he told me that I had lumbar lordosis (an extreme curvature of the back), “like many Latina and black women whose lordosis makes it look like they have large butts.” When I asked what I could do about it, he told me to take some ibuprofen and that there was nothing else I could do. At least I had a good-looking butt.
Just last year, I met a younger physical therapist who told me there actually were ways to help reverse the pain from the condition by sleeping in better positions with pillows under the legs and torso. Thank God! That interaction was one of my last with that doctor. Now, I opt for younger women doctors when I can.
When I moved to Minnesota, I was incorrectly racial profiled by a few people as Native American. One bothered me so much I published a story about how it affected me in “Northern Eclecta.” After declaring my race as Cuban and white in an interview for assistance at a food shelf, the elderly, white male double-checked, saying “Sure you’re not Native?” When I said no, his reply told me I was wrong. “But you have those eyes.” I didn’t start a fight. I did need the free food after all. It still bothered me. After I spoke my truth, I wasn’t believed because of how I looked.
Honestly, sometimes I am fine with my last name because I feel like people can’t automatically profile me on paper, such as during job applications or when applying for scholarships. Even though I still worry about racism, especially in the police force, I hope that the last name on my driver’s license shields me somewhat. The fact that I am relieved about that is a bit upsetting. I feel like I’m abusing the white privilege I have that other Latino/a/x people don’t. I wonder what would happen to me if I didn’t have the last name to hide behind. Would I even be more scared and suspicious of the largely white population out here in Fargo and the rest of the Midwest?
Probably.
Other times, I feel like coming out from behind the shield of “Williamson.” I like to think I’m authentic most of the time, but that includes giving credit to the culture I grew up with and around. Behind the “Williamson,” I’m also “Placeres.” I grew up in a town that was around 80% Latino/a/x. My Spanish sucks now, but eavesdropping on others’ Spanish conversations makes me feel at home. I almost married a Mexican man. Even though I’m pretty pale and might not fit in perfectly, I still want to visit Cuba one day.
Being multiracial is indeed a strange feeling. It’s weird not to feel not quite one thing or the other. It’s weird to be a mix. However, when asked I do not lie. I am white and I am Cuban. Even if my last name lies on my behalf.