As you may already know...I am Mexican, and I grew up, within the US borders, as VERY Mexican I have the mariachi outfit to prove it. My house spoke primarily Spanish and we ate beans and rice all the time.
We were so entrenched with the Spanish and being Mexican, that I grew up thinking Charlton Heston was a Mexican because our copy of "Ten Commandment's" was dubbed in Spanish...I was not a bright child.
I mean everybody knew that Jesus Christ was a Mexican, look at his beard for Christ's sake. And didn't everybody have goats in their back yard and mariachis come play for their 4th birthday? Did I mention that I was also a brat?
Food was a major item in the house but wasn't it for everybody? You come home, and mom immediately wanted to shovel beans and carne down your throat. "Oh mija, you aren't hungry anymore, here! Let me make you a quesadilla". And if there wasn't a newly killed chicken boiling on the stove, there were always tortillas and beans to eat a plenty. All of this is normal right? All people in the US grew up like this...right?
FUCKING WRONG!
So I also had the advantage of being sent to a Catholic private school, which had one other child who had goats in their backyard, and that fucker was filipino, not a mexican. And my mom wasn't a fan of having other little fuckers, that weren't family kids, in her house. So when I did get permission to invite some of these little shits...this is what they told me...
Him- "you have all those people living in the house? you have goats in the backyard? Dude, you're a beaner"
Me - "oh yeah, thanks. I love beans"
Laughter erupts. I didn't get it.
Later that night, I picked the perfect opportunity (while she was watching Sabado Gigante) to tell my mom about the day. "A'ma, sabias que soy una beaner porque me gustan frijoles" Translation: Mom, did you know I'm a beaner because I love to eat beans....The look on her face was priceless, and the next words out of her mouth were epic! "QUE CHINGADOS DIJISTES?!?!?!" Translation: what the fuck
And that was the day that I learned that the word beaner is derogatory...and that my upbringing was slightly different from some of the other kids.
Lol, no matter how you're brought up, it's totally normal for you. Fun moments when you find out someone was an asshole to you, huh?
ReplyDeleteHa ha yeah. Its ok. Some forms of ignorance is bliss.
DeleteHa this is great! I bet the look on your mom's face was priceless!
ReplyDeleteMy mom has this death stare that only lasts for a second, but once you are in its path, it seems to last a lightyear. And then she yells something....and you slowly back away...which I should have learned to run faster.
DeleteI wish I grew up with goats and quesadillas. And guess what. I'm cooking with Goya Frijoles Negros tonight.
ReplyDeleteYUM! I now have beans ready to go every night! Do you boil or from a can?
DeleteCanned. My mother was not Mexican. :(
DeleteI'm falling for you one post at a time, lady. You had me smitten with the Religious post but now. . . NOW!!!! Okay, I'm white, like as white as they come, but I was raised in Arizona around this culture, and all of my mom and grandmother's friends were Mexican. Our "Aunt" Ercie was amazeballs, and her house was like you described yours growing up. I grew up eating this food, in houses full of this culture, around people speaking Spanish. God, I want to make a time machine and go back in time to meet you as a kid, I would never have called you a beaner, I would have loved you. Also, now I'm homesick, thanks a lot. (I refer to myself as a "Wexican". White Mexican)
ReplyDelete-The Insomniacs Dream
I don't know how much you would have loved me...I was a fucking brat...but potentially cool. I am going to have to use the "wexican" term. We usually just dub them "honorary mexis". Ha ha.
DeleteI was an only child. I took any friends I could get. Maybe it's cultural, we're all Wexicans in AZ.
ReplyDeleteThis is hysterical! My best friend growing up was old world Italian, it sounds similar. She was never allowed to have friends over, and when I was allowed, we had to stay in one room all the time. There were two kitchens one up and one down, and food cooking constantly. Lots of people and lots of food. And no one spoke English except my friend. We were friends a long time. I still don't think her mother ever liked me.
ReplyDeleteHa. that sounds a little like my mom, she was and is very wary of any friend. Thanks for reading!
Delete