Mestizaje
It was the Mestizaje of natives, Africans, and Spanish that created the new race entitled Mexican, but all I saw when I looked into the mirror was a young Mexican girl. I thought being Mexican was my one and only ethnicity. Going to a predominantly white elementary school never let me forget that. As a fourth grader at Feather Flower Elementary, I was constantly teased for being ugly. “Ha! You like Stephanie!” my white classmates would say as they pointed at their friend and then to me. I felt my cheeks burning from embarrassment. Every day I stared at myself in the mirror and thought I’m not that ugly right? I’m not as ugly as those new girls that just transferred from Mexico. They can hardly speak English and at least I was born here. It was a divide I created between myself and the others who spoke in my mother tongue. Yes, it was an ignorant way of thinking, but karma soon taught me it didn’t matter if you were born in the United States, your skin color was what mattered. My beige undertones didn’t make me more “American” like my white peers, especially Tatiana.
“Immigrant,” she said, after we got into an argument about some pointless kid drama. Immigrant. Immigrant? What? I was overcome with emotions- frustration, embarrassment, and rage. What could have I said back to her? Those piercing hazel eyes stared at me with no remorse. Tatiana even had a smirk knowing that she broke me over something stupid. Did she even know how loaded that word was? Did she hear her parents say it? I was absolutely quiet for the remaining of that day until my mom picked me up from school. Then, I cried like I was in pain. It was a pain I’ve never felt before, but as I got older this pain became familiar, maybe even
bearable. I feel this pain as an adult who carries the weight of her ancestor’s trauma and continues to fight racial injustice through every aspect of my life. I can recall my mom telling my fourth-grade teacher about this insult and it only resulted in my classmate getting off with a warning. She got no punishment, not even a lecture on why that was wrong, while I continued to become more obsessed with my reflection.
The term “Feather Flower” reminded me of Xochiquetzal, The Precious Feather Flower goodness of the Mexica tribe, also known as the Aztecs by colonizers. Gods and goddesses were blinded with her beauty as she sang love spells to everyone. My school was not affiliated with Xochiquetzal, but I was a descendent of the Mexicas. Yet, what I would’ve done to be as beautiful as she was and feel loved by everyone rather than pushed aside like I was insignificant or despicable. It was Eurocentrism as it’s finest.
A few weeks after the Immigrant scandal, we began learning about the Chumash tribe. They were the indigenous people that lived in Santa Barbara and Ventura County before Juan Rodríguez Cabrillo and came with aspirations of spreading Christianity in 1542- this was before the settlers of Manifest Destiny disrupted their way of life. We learned a sugar coated lesson about the tribe because my teacher only taught us what he wanted us to know. I keep thinking Where are they now? Did they just disappear? We began watching a PBS video that helped us connect what we learned visually. After five minutes of the video, the narrator began describing a Chumash family. I observed the image of the family as they appeared on the black and white screen. The father had stood prideful with his headpiece wearing cowhide around his waist like an apron. The mother had long hair and wore a dress made of animal skin, possibly cowhide too and displayed a serious expression. Then, there was a young girl who had long hair and a dress staring blankly at the screen, as if she was staring at her reflection. I was quickly mesmerized by her because she looked oddly familiar.
“That girl looks like Stephanie” my classmate whispered behind me.
“She does!” another peer said.
I turned to look at them. They weren’t teasing me, which was a first. Instead, they looked at the screen in awe and I smiled. Finally, people that sort of look like me are on the screen. Then I thought, Why do I look Native American? I’m Mexican? Now I understand that it was the Mestizaje of natives, Africans, and Spanish that created the race: Mexican. When the Southwestern states of the U.S were part of early Mexico, most of the inhabitants were all indigenous tribes. So I wasn’t an Immigrant after all.
About Kiki Reyes
Kiki Reyes is a professional writer and published journalist. Born and raised in the paradise city of Santa Barbara, California, Reyes is inspired by her experiences as a Mexican- American defying educational obstacles and stereotypes. Her topics of interests include ethnicity, indigeneity, cultural identity, and assimilation. She obtained her B.A in English with a minor in Chicano Studies (Mexican-American Studies) from Cal State University Channel Islands in 2016 and her M.F.A in Writing and Contemporary Media from Antioch Santa Barbara University in 2018. Recently discovering she is 64% Native American, Reyes has always felt a connection to nature and enjoys hiking away from civilization in her spare time. Her other true passion is music. Reyes’s written songs were selected for the Santa Barbara City College Honors Conference in 2013 and 2014, where she performed for both opening ceremonies. She also auditioned for the singing competition, American Idol in 2019. Currently, Reyes works as an Office and Sales Assistant at a news station and is a staff writer at the Santa Barbara City College online newspaper, The Channels.