What Latinx Means: Mestizx Privilege

Earlier this year, the Census published findings about the increase in Latinxs self-identifying as White. This opened up a much-needed, and still developing, conversation about who is a White Latinx, their privilege, and racism within our community. As a mathematics student, I found it useful to back up and revisit key concepts when attempting to understand a complex situation. Clarity is important because mainstream conversations about Latinidad often exclude race. The goal is to break out of US American centrism that categorizes Latinxs into a monolithic Other, and to highlight the similarities and differences in the racial hierarchies of both Latin America and the US.

Who is Latinx?
Latinx is an pan-ethnic group of US-residing descendents of Latin Americans; that is, as opposed to being descendents of Anglo Americans. For clarification, Latin America is the region colonized by Romance language speaking countries, mainly Spain and Portugal. In contrast, Anglo America is the region colonized by Great Britain, with English as the dominant language. The colonizing language has significant historical and cultural impacts in each region — enough to separate the Americas into two overarching ethnicities. Latinx is the intersection of these two, living on Anglo American soil.

Since both Latin and Anglo America were colonized by Europeans, they share a related history of African and Indigenous slavery, genocide, and mixture. Thus, both areas established similar racial hierarchies, with White, European colonizers at the top and African and Indigenous people at the bottom. Influenced by both Americas, Latinxs operate within these schemas.

‘Are White Latinxs privileged?’ and ‘Are Latinxs racist?’ aren’t the questions we should be asking. As stated above, we are descendents of a colonized region, living in a similarly colonized country, so the answer is unequivocally yes. The questions we should be asking are: Which Latinxs are privileged, and how so? How does Latin American history shape that privilege? How are the racial experiences within Latinx communities different when in the larger US context?

When Latinx = Race
The treatment of Latinx as a race in mainstream US culture is ubiquitous. It hinders us from understanding our racial identity and its relationship to the rest of the community. There are countless examples of ‘Latinx As Race’ in the media. Even when Latinxs are described correctly as an ethnicity, we’re often stacked up in comparison to monoracial groups. Amassing a multiracial group into one category is counterproductive in studies meant to highlight racial differences. This omits the racial diversity of Latin America and Latinxs themselves. In other words, these findings average out the different racial experiences into one, marginalizing Indigenous and Afro-Latinx voices.

This ‘racial averaging out’ effect is more insidious than we may imagine. Think of a Latinx, and you will likely picture a brown-skinned Mestizx, even though the racial diversity of Latin America is similar to that of Anglo America.  We could have thought of an Afro-Latinx, Asian Latinx, or a White latinx, but most of us didn’t.

Mestizx Majority
Mestizx, in most of Latin America, is a person of Indigenous and European ancestry. We make up the racial majority in most countries, affording us privilege by simply being the dominant group. Meanwhile, White European settlers became the majority in the US — a key distinction between Latin and Anglo American racial hierarchies. Not only is Mestizx a racial category, it’s also a socio-political standing with power and position (Spanish settlers gave rights to Mestizxs they wouldn’t extend to Black or Indigenous people). Even an Indigenous person can identify or be considered Mestizx depending on their proximity to mainstream culture. Joining the dominant mixed identity is analogous to the assimilation process in the US engulfing Native Americans and immigrants into the dominant European culture. Even though White Europeans in Latin America are awarded more privileges, they are a minority in most countries. Mestizx dominance has shaped the cultural and national identity we bring with us to the US. In short: the Latinx experience, if unchecked, will tell the story of the Mestizx. This is Mestizx privilege.

Examining the term further we see it isn’t free of privilege. In Spanish, Mestizo literally means mixed. Its use varies regionally throughout the world, but in Latin America it means strictly Indigenous and European ancestry. It’s more realistic for a term describing a mixed-majority to mean someone of Indigenous/African and European ancestry, since many Mestizxs are likely to have African ancestry. However, anti-black racism has upheld the Afro-exclusionary definition. Note the appropriation of a neutral word, as opposed to dehumanizing titles like Mulatto or Lobo for mixed-Black ancestry, as evidence of some of the privileges awarded to Mestizxs.

Mestizx cultural dominance is intertwined with racial privilege. Our genetic mixing centers us closer to whiteness, and even if we’re not quite there, it extends some of its privileges. White Latinxs, on the other hand, have racial privilege in our community much akin to US White privilege — they’re considered beautiful, desired, educated, etc. In Latin America, they’ve been awarded far greater education and economic opportunities, and this historical privilege brought to the US, along with racial privilege, affords White Latinxs positions of power and visibility. Turn on Univision and count how many White Latinxs or light-skinned Mestizxs you see versus Afro-Latinxs or Indigenous people.

Pain & Privilege
It’s confusing to think of Mestizxs having privilege because when we scale back out into the larger US culture we are stereotyped, stigmatized, and oppressed based on both our race and ethnicity. Even White Latinxs may deal with a level of oppression based solely on ethnicity. Since the privileged people within our group deal with systemic oppression in the larger US context, it follows that stereotyping and violence is magnified for Afro-Latinxs and Indigenous people. These experiences are similar to the violent racial oppression of US Blacks and Native Americans, who are often excluded in conversation about US Americans.

Many Mestizxs are quick to reject the reality of racism towards Indigenous, Black, and other Latinxs because in doing so we admit privilege. How can we be privileged when we’re stereotyped as soon as we step out of our homes? To understand our complex position we must disassociate with the idea that oppressing and being oppressed are mutually exclusive. We both endure and impose injustices based on our racial identity. As a Mestiza, I’m asking that we reflect in the ways in which we perpetuate a culture that is racist towards Afro-Latinxs and Indigenous folks. The most useful way is to acknowledge the racist history of Latin America and how it has shaped us. Here are some articles on Mestizx identity helping me understand my position:

Mestizaje and the Mexican Mestizo Self: No Hay Sangre Negra, So There is No Blackness
A long and detailed read about the history of anti-blackness in Mexican (Mestizx) identity, starting from colonial times, through the Mexican-American war, and up to modern times.

Indigenous Nationalities and the Mestizo Dilemma
A brief look at Indigenous identity in the US versus Latin America.

The Reflexivity of Pain and Privilege
On the complexities of being Mestizx in the US. As with any text on Mestizaje, be critical of its exclusion of Afro-Latinxs.

Discussing racial issues within the Latinx community is as important as talking about them in the larger US context. The distinction between race and ethnicity is key to understanding ourselves, other Latinxs, and to pushing against the stereotypes placed on us by US Americans. Talking about Latinxs without acknowledging race upholds the hierarchy established by colonialism — it upholds White and Mestizx privilege and is inherently racist towards Indigenous people and Afro-Latinxs.

While it’s important to reject frameworks established to oppress, it is necessary to employ these same concepts in order to break down the racial hierarchy, as long as we’re consistent and critical of them. If we are consistent with the distinction between race and ethnicity it becomes possible to simultaneously break down stereotypes within our community and in the larger US context.

 

María thanks Lucy Wong, David Goodman, and Oswald Leon for edits, support, and inspiration.

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Your Pretty Is Foreign

I don’t mean to brag, but I kinda get called exotic a lot. I don’t know if it’s my unblemished creamy skin, almond green eyes or high cheekbones, but on a really good day I find myself thinking, “You look like a fucking China doll.” Now that we all know I’m only thirty pounds away from being an international racially ambiguous model, let me tell you, being called exotic is not all its cracked up to be. Before you start thinking I’m one of those girls who complains about going to the gym and getting hit on (“I just want to be left alone!”), there’s a bit more to it. I know what your intention is, you want me to know you find me attractive, but you can’t say, “You’re pretty,” you have to say, “Your pretty is foreign.” You have to qualify what kind of pretty I am, clearly it’s not “normal,” it’s surprising.

“Oh hey, it’s like you’re white…but not quite…what could you be?!”

The suspense is killing me.

At the same time I know you’re well-meaning, how could I not, looking at me with those ever so earnest white person eyes, open wide like a boy staring through the glass at an aquarium, you’re being so appreciative of my Otherness, amiright? Who am I to refuse a compliment for my unique, fascinating beauty? You’re trying to equate me to Rihanna, that’s what I assume from this tropical island girl rhetoric.

So how am I supposed to respond when you call me this controversial six-letter word?

But you’re so nice, I feel a little guilty putting you in this embarrassing situation…I have to tell you you’re executing a micro aggression. You’re not racist, necessarily, just one of the thousands of people in my life who want to pay me a compliment. Thank god we both know oriental is off limits, that could get awkward… But paying me a compliment wrapped in a micro aggression is like handing me a burrito laced with a splash of poison (if it’s free, I’ll still take it), not enough to kill me outright, but a small amount, growing after each encounter, making me uncomfortable in my body, in a crowd, on the arm of someone who might be congratulated later for this rare bounty, aware I’m not what people think I should look like. The should being based on geography, on this continued idea of non-mixed races, one colonial Caucasian, Mayflower and shit, and the rest of us obviously immigrants.

It’s irresistible, this word which comes to the lips of my admirers. You embrace me for my beauty, while simultaneously categorizing and labeling it, making sure I know, I’m not the standard, the default, I stand out from the crowd of my community, my gender, my race. It’s not easy, but I try. Or not, because I don’t need anything to augment this shit, I woke up like this! You’re reminding me of something I already know, I don’t belong…but in a good way! To my evolutionary instincts it means I can be picked off from the herd. Am identifiable, describable, a list of mix-matched characteristics, blending together to equal an Other. I know I’m supposed to be beautiful because I’m exotic, but can’t I be beautiful because I’m a beautiful human?

Clearly what I’m really trying to say is, thank you for calling me exotic, you’ve made me feel so welcome in yo-, I mean our country.

In the Sky, They Are Lineless by Sara McGuirk

(after Ronaldo V. Wilson)

I say: Crayola & you think color
(Association) & I wonder how much
We associate with color—tie to—attribute,
Collect (like bottlecaps in our knapsacks),
Throw at other kids at recess on the playground-grid-iron

& I consider
Color-coding, color-creaming, crinkling colored letters into
The words our children drag in
(Doorstep-dead-birds) with their dirty soap-tongue—
Words encoded by color

Case in point, in pointed pigment:
They had a color they called flesh (until 1962),
& guess
Just which shade it was,
(Just what peachy—perky & deserving shade)
Its snowflakes unstained by freckles even,
A complexion so fair—so in(politically)correct—
It’s nothing “personal,” just how they conduct their
Business

Then; in 1999,
They made a collector’s set: Crayolas infused with glitter
& I’m thinking: which
Abusive name would we use to shame the boy
Who kept those (secret) in his knapsack
—If he showed us—if he drew (unclothed) the most magnificent
Of masculine mermaidens,
(The most shameless we’ve ever seen) on this liquid, spectral, limitless beach—
How; would we snap him into wax-bit pieces?
Infringe upon his glittered drawing,
(This drifting masterpiece we
Should—instead—be flaunting
On every Mommy’s bone-bleach fridge)?
So; I want you to do just this &:
Bloom in living color—Oz it all—
Inside-outside-in (what lines?)
Let’s crack-crumble our crayons,
Our bodiless children’s finger-painted handprints
Un-white-washed by the pitiless, pesky,
Branded (brand-name) flesh (our Fisher-Priced pound of flesh),
Yelling (loud as living, lip-leavening color),
Left untouch-untortured by the name on a sliver of my color-glove,
My uncovered sleeve—no—
Color; me in love
& lovely in it all at once—a muddy gray, a grain
Of the whole col-igraphy                    (The language of the rainbow)
A (child playing with a)
Kaleidoscope                                      Wonders

At why we bother naming others—at all


Sara McGuirk is an incoming poet at the Iowa City Writer’s Workshop this year. She graduated from The University of Notre Dame with concentrations in English and Film Production. She perceives poetry as a montage of images and emotions directed by the music of language itself.