Julissa Arce

A short read that echoes a LOT of similar thoughts I've had re: the Asian American community and whether or not we have to "prove" anything with regard to "Americannness" and a sense of belonging while also addressing the in-fighting that comes naturally from smooshing a multitude of backgrounds and diasporas into one broad, racialized category (which should exist in solidarity, given the majority will always see us as Other).

The short version: in the first half, no matter how much one can aspire to whiteness or perfect diction, this country will never love what it perceives as Other 100%, only reluctantly including us when we fight through the court systems (and even then, it's an uphill struggle). Recognizing this, individuals should embrace our identities which AREN'T mutually exclusive. The second half looks to reconcile and reclaim one's history and culture which is complicated for the Mexican diaspora as borders may have moved over THEM rather than any immigration by their ancestors. Some discussion on the way Latines are categorized, as the Census and other demographic counters tend to put Hispanic/Latino as an adjective on top of racial categories which then leaves some to ponder: are they white? Indigenous? And that question tends to get interpreted based on whether or not whiteness is perceived as "successful" or wanting to belong to the majority.

Nothing particularly new here for me as it's things I've been thinking about (for a more academic thought on the rinse and repeat cycle of American labor and immigration, [b:A Different Mirror: A History of Multicultural America|37564|A Different Mirror A History of Multicultural America|Ronald Takaki|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1439467571l/37564._SY75_.jpg|37420] goes further), but useful for seeing that parallel conversations are happening in other groups perceived as Other.… (mer)

3.5***

Arce came to the United States with her parents when she was only eleven years old. Eager to achieve “the American Dream” (whatever that is), she studied hard, perfected her English, excelled at college and got a prestigious job at Goldman Sachs. All while undocumented. But no matter the outward appearance of success, Arce felt that she was not accepted or welcomed. Her take on this is that the white people in power will never allow brown and black people to actually assimilate in the USA culture.

Arce gives many examples of ways in which white people have harmed indigenous populations, from the Spaniards who conquered and killed off Aztec, Mayan and Incan populations, to the US settlers who stole the land and resources from the various native tribes in what is now the United States.

But the tone of her arguments in the book was so angry and outraged, so self-important and uncompromising that it turned me off.

I am a Mexican-American woman. I was born in the USA, as was my mother, but I barely spoke English when I started school. When I came to college I was often asked “Where are you from?” And yet, I never felt like I did NOT belong. I took the questions of others as natural curiosity, and I answered, “I’m from Texas.” I didn’t turn my back on my cultural heritage, but I fully identified as being “American.” As I read this book, I kept wondering how Arce can bear the weight of all that outrage and anger. It must be exhausting.

She has some valid points to make in this book, but in the end, I think “she doth protest too much.”

It’ll be interesting to see what the others in my Hispanic book club think of this book. (It’s scheduled for discussion in October.)… (mer)

Brilliant exposition, especially in the book's first part, of the damage and turmoil exacted on people with darker than fair skin in society imbued with white privilege. If the price a Latina must pay for living in the U.S.A. is to lose her Latin culture, that is a huge loss. The author, who grew up in poverty, excelled in school, and won the lottery in the form of a job at Goldman Sachs, recounts in harrowing detail all that led her to quit Goldman and take the risky road of becoming a writer, in hopes that telling her experience might help fellow immigrants sort out their own painful, confused cultural struggles. I'm sure she has.… (mer)

In this book, the author takes a hard look at racism against Mexicans in the United States both in the past and in the present. What she tells is both eye-opening and deeply sad.

This book reads like a Mexican/Brown version of Ibram X. Kendi’s book How To Be an Antiracist. Books such as these are important in empowering those who most need to confront white racism in all its ugly forms. This is also a look at what it meant for the author, a Mexican Brown girl, to live and interact in white, racist America. No matter her attempts to be what white America wanted, she inevitably felt much failure in so many sad and subtle ways repeatedly, although from outward appearances it looked as if she had fully “assimilated” into the white American culture. Her call is for people who identify as Latinx to be proud of who they are, and not to think of white America as a goal to which to aspire.

There is a very interesting chapter in this book about how some Mexicans have been belittled at every racist opportunity due to their inferior command of the English language—despite being American born and Spanish speakers from their earliest childhood. In that chapter, it was also pointed out that schools in the area where Mexicans lived were segregating children based on their English fluency or absence of it and sometimes merely based on Spanish surnames.

I was in awe of the eloquence with which the author described the pain of being on the edge of two cultures and the importance of feeling proud of one’s own culture as well as being outspoken in its defense.… (mer)