Race & Ethnicity

           I really enjoyed reading about Piri’s story in “Down These Mean Streets”, by Piri Thomas. However, not because of the intriguing story it tells, but because it hits so close to home. One of the themes of this story was about Piri finding himself. He did not know he was also Black because his family didn’t raise him with a part Black identity. Piri had a hard time and it took him a while to discover or identify as Black also. Piri was raised as a Puerto Rican Latino. This hit close to home for me because I had a hard time identifying myself as well as a child. I knew that I was born in the United States, but I was raised in Brazil. Both my parents were born in Brazil. My first language was not English. When I’d go over to visit family in the summer, my aunts would introduce me as their American niece, however, I did not feel as though I was just American and nothing more. The first language I ever spoke was Portuguese. When I returned to the United States at 6 years-old, that’s when I began learning about race. I didn’t learn much about it, just that I had to pick one in forms. My parents didn’t know how to categorize race/ethnicity on forms. It was not something we were used to. I’ve been claiming to be White all my life, though I always felt like I was more than just White. They taught me in elementary school that I was white. Later in high school I found out that I was a Latina, which to me made more sense. I also fit in with the other Latinx individuals in high school. It’s like we understood each other, because our parents faced similar struggles, and we grew up with similar values. Whether it was my best friend’s abuela waking her up on cleaning day to salsa, or my mãe waking me up to samba, we were both waking up to music and beginning our chores on cleaning day.  

          Just like Piri, discovering my identity was a long journey. I discovered I was a Latina my Sophomore year of high school. I never touched the subject again, from there on I identified myself as a Latina. Then when I got to college, I started questioning my race, and to this day, I still don’t fully understand it. I still don’t understand why my brother is not considered white if we have the same mother and father. Or why I’m not considered a Native like my brother would be because of his brown skin and silky hair, or why am I not considered black like my grandfather would be? I understand Piri’s frustration. He was never taught to embrace his race. I too look different than all my siblings, I have a white peachy skin tone, and super curly hair. My brother has brown skin tone and silky hair like part of our indigenous blood. My other siblings are blonde with green eyes. I know my siblings will face the same problem growing up. There is so much confusion in race identity more than ethnicity because at least ethnicity is related to your nationality and cultural tradition. That is generally easier to determine. I feel that in society, the box in forms next to Race is only there to determine the color of your skin, because it doesn’t make sense for two siblings with the same biological parents to have to identify as two different races based on society. Race is a socially constructed concept that has kept generations segregated. In the story, the issue with Piri identifying his race ultimately resulted in him fighting with his parents. It is sometimes hard to identify yourself when come from an ethnically and racially diverse family, which is one of the things Piri struggled with.