I wonder how being a divorced dad, raising 2 daughters with a cooperative mother, having 2 respectable careers, and being able bodied keeps me from living a typical or common life of contentment. How am I not fulfilled by the American Dream? Why am I critical about the dogmatic foolishness I believe thrives in Patriotism? How come the privileged cultures allure me, light skinned women dazzle me, black struggle inspires me, my brown in between-ness excludes me, but Anglo authority antagonizes me. I get asked how come I'm so critical or why can't I just have fun. When I take another class at the university I get asked if I am getting another degree. More personally I get asked about where the "old Ron is". I have the same wonder.
I could easily afford a more comfortable and fun-filled life, or can I. I wonder why I don't. I have wrestled the ideas of cynicism and justice. I have experienced barrio life, tasted New Mexico's Norteno culture, even immersed myself into corporate suburbia, excelled through a masters academia, and now find myself content with just enough and culturally hovering. So how come I still grieve?
Despite surviving through a collection of cultures I am still fearful of being taken advantage of, held back, or discriminated. I am afraid and incited when others are too. I am learning that racism is not as obvious as it's ever been. I am learning that ethnicity is less valuable as a generalize-er as it's ever been. I have to consider that holding on to diversity counter intuitively promotes division. I have to hold the cognitive dissonance that is created when I encounter people who don't fit my stereotypes. I have to work through the difficulty and subtlety that bias or ignorance isn't distinguishable or a visible trait, its often felt passively without certainty. I have been called names before, and those times were easy to understand. I knew why I was hated, targeted, or categorized.
But I have to sit back in my solitude and sift through the sadness in my history and present wondering if it's because of my heritage. There are a lot of events in my life that hurt. I cannot say that because I am Latino this happened to me. At the same time I cannot help but wonder if some of what happened to me was because of generalizations, stereotypes, or prejudice. And I cannot help but also worry that my actions or choices have been influenced by my own prejudice or ignorance. I have to consider how my own hatred added to the complexity of distinction and discrepancy.
I am so racial because I have a desire to participate, contribute, and be valued in this lifetime. There are a lot of circumstances that have helped me recognize that how I look, how I see, where I come from, where others come from, the way I sound, the way others sound, and the history that molded me impact the way I react and how people perceive me. I have to believe that you are prejudice because I am. I don't feel dangerous, violent, or menacing. But I am not afraid to fight, I am not afraid of pain, and I will find a way to survive. I strive to be loving, peaceful, and forgiving. But I am also capable of rage, willing to be radical for change, and will hold you accountable before completely accepting you. Maybe it is that you fear me too.
I am so racial because I am afraid of being eradicated, incarcerated, shot for no reason, censored, paid less for the same work, called lazy, called stupid, told I have work only because I'm brown, found guilty for a crime I didn't commit, charged for crime I didn't commit, punished worse than others, treated different, pushed around, banished, neglected and left out. I am so racial so that my daughters can be less racial. I am so racial because I see too many people forgetting that people are still racial and cannot seem to understand how.