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Michigan in Color
Monday, February 5, 2018 — 3A
NATALIA SANCHEZ
MiC Contributor
Please, tell me where I’m from
“Do you celebrate the Day of
the Dead?”
The first (and, let it be known,
only) time that someone asked
me that, I was more than ready to
start a hissy fit. My jaw fell open,
my face contorted into a “did you
really just ask me that?” type of
look, my hands balled into a fist,
nails digging so deeply into my
palms I could have drawn blood,
knuckles turning whiter by the
second — waiting and itching
and aching to just be driven
through that ignorant fool’s nose
because anyone who dares to so
much as whisper detrimental,
xenophobic or bigoted comments
about my culture will, without a
doubt, receive una bien merecida
pescozá.
The issue is not so much
the question or the curiosity
that prompted the inquiry. I’m
proud to call myself Latina,
boricua and a puertorra. I wear
my history with honor, I speak
my first language with pride
and every day I strive to prove
myself because it isn’t just about
me; it’s about what my native
dialect represents, about how
my actions, words and attitudes
make or break a group of humans
that have been marginalized
and wrongfully stereotyped for
years.
I’ll gladly talk about my
heritage and my home with
anyone
who
is
genuinely
interested to learn. I can go on for
hours about the lovely wonders
hidden in Puerto Rico: La Isla
del Encanto (about how delicious
tostones are; how there’s a party
around every corner and on every
street, always; how the holidays
start in Thanksgiving and end
during the last week of January;
how the natives love human
interactions and connections,
how pleasant conversations can
start anywhere…).
So why was I bothered then?
Because the only country that
celebrates Día de Los Muertos
is Mexico, and, no, not all
Latinos that come to the U.S. are
Mexican.
I
was
irritated
because
schools in the U.S. fail to explain
Latin history and culture; fail
to teach Spanish that surpasses
elementary level “Hola, me llamo
___”; fail to communicate the fact
that there are more than 58.6
million Hispanics in the United
States; fail to mention that we’re
the biggest and fastest growing
“minority”; fail to indicate that
Spanish is the second most
spoken language in the world;
fail to explain how “America”
encompasses Hispanic countries
located below the border...
They fail, fail and fail, time
and time again, and I’m so
exhausted from having to clarify
what the differences between
my culture and someone else’s
are. How would you feel if I were
to ask you: “Are you the guys that
are famous for making maple
syrup?” or “Everyone plays
hockey here, right?”
It’s those micro-aggressions
(those
quick
snide
remarks
that you don’t realize actually
hurt and slash and burn until
a while after they’re said) that
make up part of the foundation
of the bigger issue. When they
accumulate and spill over the
top, when they’re asked and
said with such normalcy that
they’re not considered incorrect,
the ground is laid for the bigger
societal acts of abhorrence and
prejudice to flourish.
Why is there so much hate and
discrimination among racially,
ethnically
and
religiously
different groups? Why do so
many U.S. men and women
condemn and marginalize these
groups, calling them thieves,
rapists and criminals? Why does
the media continuously portray
them as such (as less than what
they are; as less than any human
should
ever
be),
throwing
wood into a fire that needs to
be extinguished? Why, even
though it is clearly written in
the supreme law of the country
that all men are created equal,
all men, women and children are
not treated equally?
It’s
because
people
have
grown used to not worrying
about how their small comments
and questions (just like: Do you
celebrate the day of the dead?)
can amount to the bigger picture,
can evolve and transform into the
larger issues. They’re missing,
ignoring and not making the
conscious
effort
to
surpass
the small step of learning and
understanding that leads to
assimilation and acceptance.
Let’s be honest and frank here:
A country created by immigrants
should be more understanding,
helpful, respectful and open to
other immigrants.
A/PIA Community Spotlight
This post is a part of a series of
Community Spotlights. If your
cultural organization would like
to be featured, please email us at
michiganincolor@umich.edu.
Asian/Pacific
Islander
American
Heritage
Month
is
a
nationwide,
month-long
celebration of A/PIA culture,
traditions and history. Though it is
typically celebrated in the month
of May, the University of Michigan
celebrates it throughout March
and April because our academic
year ends before May. Every
year, United Asian American
Organizations,
the
umbrella
organization for several A/PIA-
interest organizations on campus,
partners with the Office of Multi-
Ethnic Students Affairs to plan
this month of events.
Last year, A/PIA Heritage
Month featured many large-
scale events like the Generation
Asian Pacific American Cultural
Show (GenAPA) and the Midwest
Asian American Student Union
2017 Spring Conference. Other
Heritage Month events included
Uncover: A/PIA and UAAO’s
#SayMyName photo and video
campaign, Yoni Ki Baat’s annual
monologue show, a film screening
of Curtis Chin’s “Tested”, That
Brown Show, and Chroma — a
show
exhibiting
artwork
by
people of color. Finally, every year
Heritage Month is ended by a
closing ceremony to recognize the
achievements of A/PIA students
on campus. Below are some
photos from different events that
happened during A/PIA Heritage
Month last year.
This year, UAAO and Office
of Multi-Ethnic Student Affairs
are looking for people to work on
a committee in various areas to
showcase A/PIA culture. There
are no interviews! We just want
to hear from interested folks who
are able to commit their time
to helping plan A/PIA Heritage
Month.
SIVANTHY VASANTHAN
MiC Contributor
I contemplate
an early exit
in sparkly,
silver
shoes.
Heart over head
and hand over heart –
I look
so American.
And you,
standing
across the way,
are small
with humility.
Your callused fingers,
bathed
in sunlight and industry,
touch me
with a softness
I can never return.
Bless fragility.
Its anxious self
quaking
behind the ego.
The quiver,
the tremble
cracking open my lips.
A fault
from which
the gargled vowels erupt.
Words spill out
over all
the pretty
conventions,
then settle,
holding us
here
in this moment
where we are briefly
familiar.
You,
my mother,
who keeps
the crow’s feet
to remind her
of flight,
whose freckles
punctuate
the summer sky,
who knows
more tones
than the pianist,
speak
with bars
between your teeth.
Songs
of mangrove trees
and lotus ponds.
Yes,
bless the summer.
And I,
your incomprehensible
child,
tongue-twisted
and teary-eyed,
have only
broken language
to offer.
But bless this language,
its ebb and flow.
How it shrinks
from the mouth
to grow
in the ear,
unapologetically
incomplete,
slicing,
dicing,
clipping
the old
ends off,
pushing,
pulling,
perverting,
the speech
into something
wholly
new.
May its sound
always evolve
but its color
stain
forever.
Bless it despite its ugliness.
Bless it
anyway.
Every year, the Arab Students
Association hosts Arab Xpressions
— a cultural show dedicated to
featuring the beauty of Arab
culture. Join us Feb. 17 to enjoy
traditional Arab dances, music,
clothing, poetry and more. As we
explore the unique experiences of
Arab Americans through detailed
displays and hilarious skits, we
hope to provide a powerful and
entertaining night for you and your
family. The following spoken words
were presented at Arab Xpressions
2017:
Who am I?
A Bearded face, A Handsome
face
Brown Eyes, Caring Eyes
Dark Hair, Silky Hair
Tanned Skin, Exotic Skin
Child’s
thoughts,
Loving
Thoughts
Pause
Who am I?
Bearded face, Shady gaze
Brown Eyes, Menacing plans
Dark Hair, Wicked thoughts
Tanned Skin, distinct Skin
Bad thoughts, My Thoughts
When did I learn to fear myself?
-Tariq Mekkaoui
***
I look in the mirror.
And within me, I see my
grandmothers. My sito marrying
into the Arab culture, choosing
to embody both worlds. My tata,
raising five children within a civil
war. And within me I see strength.
They are not submissive.
I see my mother. Fueling her
passion for education while doing
everything in her power for my
own. And within me, I feel her
spirit. She is not passive.
These Arab women. Defying
the stereotype unrightfully placed
upon them every day.
They have inspired me. They
have inspired me to redefine what
being an Arab means to me. They
are my role
models. They are
my heroes.
-Rasha Jawad
***
My hero.
My dad was 20 when he first
set foot in America. He had little
money, no backup plan and a
mountain of dreams. Sacrificing
everything to start a life in America,
it was here that he really did start a
life. It was here he found love. It was
here he started a family. And it was
here that he set an example that my
siblings and I strive to follow every
day. This is the embodiment of the
American Dream. A dream that is
still alive today, more than ever.
Although as Arabs we may face
some hard times, let’s not forget the
journey.
For it is only through facing
difficulties that we see ourselves
grow, and it’s only through adversity
that we see communities unite. Let’s
not forget the honor and privilege it
is to be where we are.
For as proud as I am to call myself
Arab, I am equally proud to call
myself American. And more than
happy to be Arab American.
-Bassel Salka
Our experiences in our words
Out of many, one
ELIZABETH LE
MiC Contributor
Illustration by Hannah Myers
For more pictures and content visit
www.michigandaily.com/section/mic
RASHA
JAWAD,
BASSEL
SALKA & TARIQ MEKKAOUI
MiC Contributors