Where are you from?
A guest post from Mr. Howdy on Inauguration Day
Howdy folks,
I am not sure what to say. Kat asked me if I would be open to give my thoughts and views. I reluctantly said sure. I am just more private than she is. Normally, I will share my thoughts if asked directly, but am more the type to just observe and listen.
We actually are not in the States right now. I’m typing from a beach chair somewhere in the Caribbean. I don’t know if that is the correct approach, to go away and not tune in, but I don’t think I can be at work right now, at least not for this day. Not after several months ago, we had made hopeful plans to be in D.C.. Back then today was supposed to be different. We decided that we needed a consolation prize so to speak.
When Trump was elected the first time, I didn’t take off work. I stayed up watching the coverage, and when the results were apparent, I went to bed at the station with this ominous feeling and general sadness and disbelief. I don’t even remember if we had 9-1-1 calls during the coverage or in the middle of night. I woke up with those feelings still and they visibly lingered for some time. I was even asked by some co-workers if I was alright. I’m sure I said, “Yeah, sure, I’m good” or some variation. I didn’t think it mattered to even try to explain to them. Afterall, the majority of them vote and have personal view points the complete opposite of mine. I didn’t want to give anyone the satisfaction or the opportunity to say it wasn’t going to be a big deal, that people are overreacting. At the time, even Kat didn’t fully understand my sense of sadness. It would not be until later that she did.
Kat is mixed, white and Hispanic. She was born and raised in Texas, her parents were born and raised in Texas, and so on, and so on, even outdating the Texas Revolution. She was not privileged in any way. We actually have similar childhoods. We were raised by single mothers working multiple jobs, our dads not present, financially or otherwise. I say all that to show how similar we are. And yet, she didn’t quite understand my reaction at first. We have not lived the same realities.
When someone asks Kat where she is from, they are asking what city or neighborhood around there she grew up in. When someone asks me, I distinctly know–because it has happened so many times in my life–they are really asking what country I came from.
My mother grew up in a rural town in the mountains of Guerrero, Mexico. Eventually, she emigrated to California, working the fields. I still have early memories of crying as she’d leave early in the mornings, not coming back until late in the evening. But, my mother knew if her kids could be born in the United States, they would have chances she never did.
She’s briefly spoken to me about her journey, sometimes having to go back and forth between Mexico and the States. Once, she even walked throughout the night in the desert. She was 7 months pregnant.
Not a day goes by that I do not think about it. I am grateful for having been born in the U.S. and what that means–that I belong, that I have the opportunity for better. I didn’t have to walk through deserts. I didn’t have to stay up all night studying for a citizenship test after exhausting 12 hour shifts at the plastic factory my mother eventually found work in. She worked and earned her citizenship. I was merely born here, a birthright citizen.
But when I get asked that one question, I’m brought back to the reality that people still do not see me as the same. One time, while walking my dogs, a sweet, older lady went on and on about how lovely my dogs were. Then it came.
“Where are you from?”
I knew what she meant, but still gestured towards my apartment building and told her I live there.
“No, where are you from? You talk like us, but you don’t look like us.”
Fast forward to just a few weeks ago, and thanks to this community, I was in the White House, shaking hands with the President of the United States.
One of the reasons I wanted to meet President Biden so badly was merely to say thank you. Here he is, this old, privileged, white male on his way out. Birthright citizenship didn’t affect him, he didn’t have to defend it or my belonging, but he did. He said multiple times that he was President for all Americans.
In 2016, people made the excuse that they didn’t like Trump, they just didn’t want to vote for Hillary, that they would have for someone different. Now, people make the excuse that they know Trump is” not a great person, but the costs of eggs, milk, etc. etc.” But really, we all know.
So how do I feel about this administration coming in, how did I feel about his previous administration’s policies on gay and trans rights, asylum seekers, the Muslim ban, women’s rights, minorities, and birthright citizens like me?
It’s his voters–our neighbors, co-workers, and sometimes, even family–saying to all of us, “Where are you from?”
You don’t belong.