I believe that what it means to be Chicano today, as was once said, lies metaphorically in the hyphen between Mexican-American. It’s an ambiguous, at best, notion of identity. I live in two worlds, a white one and a “brown” one; where sometimes you are not “American” enough for the Americans or Mexican enough for the Mexicans. It’s a difficult path to navigate sometimes, knowing that I am of one of the smallest percentages of “my people” reaching an educational level this high. I represent “us” without ever having been asked, but such is the role of minorities in
But I often wonder if Chicano is a term that represents me. The term is taken a group of people who split from the Aztec nation, who fancied themselves the sons and daughters of Huitzilpochtli (god of fire, war and the sun). They called themselves the Mexica (Mechica), hence the derived Chicano. Some find it offensive, associating it with a militant ideal, others not so much. Myself, I really don’t know. Maybe I’m Spanglish, what writer Ed Morales, claims is a “metaphor for what a mixed race culture means – a hybrid language, an informal code…Spanglish is what we speak, but it is also who we Latinos are, and how we act, and how we perceive the world… it is an immediate declaration that translation is definition, that movement is status quo.” Or maybe I am just the son of a couple of Mexicans from
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