Culture
In The Community
Today there are many labels I proudly use during introductions. I am a first-gen Guatemalteca-Mexicana college student. Identity is one of the things we use to define ourselves and we cling to it- it’s our orgullo. Latino culture is orgullo. I, along with many others, understand what the experience is like when we’re told we don’t look as if we have the privilege of feeling the pride that is our culture.
I never questioned the cultural experiences or events I followed my parents to as a kid, I found my comfort in the grande backyard fiestas, Noche Buena celebrations, endless (and sleepless) quinceañeras. I felt spoiled being the kid that had tamales and champurrado for breakfast before school. My mom’s outrage at novelas was mine as well. To put it simply, all I knew was being Latina meant I had warmth, comfort, and celebration surrounding me.
When I got to middle school, I began to comprehend how my identity was both used as an insult and simultaneously disregarded. I witnessed people I cared about deal with microaggressions for their language barrier, yet on my end, I would be told things that left me confused:
“you don’t look Latina,” “you’re acting white,” ”you don’t look like someone who would speak Spanish.”
I felt conflicted, should I be thankful I’m seen as what the “norm” is? Does being called white mean I’m being seen as educated? Why am I so insulted but strangely relieved? Who the hell decided being Latina came with a template anyways?
Reflecting back, I realize that subconsciously I was associating not being seen as a minority with a sense of safety and acceptance. This eventually manifested into believing I was just a white-washed Latina. I looked in the mirror and believed this was the way I was supposed to present myself as. I pushed away where I found my comfort and leaned into the identity others were essentially defining for me. I pushed away what was my orgullo. By the way, no thanks to the mandatory school surveys where I had to mark “Other” or “White” alongside “Hispanic/Latino”.
Down the line, I learned what the term “Eurocentric” meant. It put into perspective how the views and beauty standards of today came to be, how it shaped the expectation of what “educated” and “not a minority” looks like. At the end of the day, this is an outdated mindset that shouldn’t carry weight or value today. I began to look towards strong badass Latinas who never hesitated to correct anyone trying to doubt their identity.
There was a power in hearing someone say the words “No, I am Latina.”
It’s freeing when you’re the one taking charge of what defines your Latinidad. It runs a lot deeper than appearance, Spanish fluency, or stereotypes. It’s generations worth of cultura and experiences to carry. I’m still strengthening my connection to my roots today, and when I think of the diverse women who confidently take pride in their identity, it pushes me to tap into my orgullo even more.
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You may be familiar with the famous “Adelitas,” known as the women who fought alongside men in the Mexican Revolution. But did you know there is a real woman behind this name?
Her name was Adela Velarde Pérez born on September 8, 1900 in Chihuahua, México. She was said to be friendly, bold, brave, and smart, and at just 13 years old, she became part of “La Cruz Blanca” where she learned medical skills against her father’s wishes. Even without the support of her father, the young Adela ignored his opposition and left to pursue her desire to become a nurse.
When she turned 15 years old, Adela joined the military and became a nurse on the front lines. There, alongside other women, her responsibility was to care for those wounded in action and to engage in combat when the men needed help. These women were known as the “soldaderas”. As her story came to light, the women previously referred to as “soldaderas” would go on to be nicknamed “Adelitas."
Throughout her service during the Mexican Revolution, the real Adela had the romantic attention of the soldiers, but she repeatedly turned down their advances and focused on the mission at hand.
It wasn’t until years later that she developed a relationship with Antonio Gil with whom she’d have a child. Unfortunately, she lost her partner during a battle of the Mexican Revolution, and their child died during combat in World War II. Even after suffering these tragic losses, she remained strong and resilient.
Adela would go on to fight battles in Zacatecas, Chihuahua, Morelos, and Mexico City. Though her contributions to the Mexican Revolution were great in number, her story was forgotten, and her legacy lost in time (until now, that is). After the Revolution, she moved to Mexico City, where she worked as a typist.
Twenty years after the Revolution, Adela was recognized as a veteran, but it wasn’t until sixty years after the Revolution that she would formally receive recognition and a pension for her service. At age 65, she met and married Coronel Alfredo Villegas whom she’d share the rest of her days with. Adela Velarde Pérez died in 1971 and was laid to rest in San Felipe Cemetery in Del Rio, Texas.
Source: Cadena CollectiveSource: Cadena Collective
Long after the revolution, “Adelitas” were depicted as hyper-sexualized versions of the women who fought in the revolution.
Gabriela Mendoza-Garcia Ballet Folklorico website
After the conflict, these veterans returned home to fulfill societal norms, where their stories and contributions were slowly forgotten. The colorful posters of beautiful women with braids and lipstick, their gorgeous hair trailing down their arms with beautiful smiles, are far from reality.
These women gave their blood, sweat, and tears for their country. They were on battlefields alongside men and held multiple roles contributing to the cause. They dressed to be ready for anything, from cooking to aiding on the battlefield. Throughout Mexican history, women have held key roles in medicine, as teachers, combatants, and leaders during conflicts that have contributed to the country's construction. Their resiliency and fighting spirit lives on as the country’s flag flies high.
This story was originally published on Cadena Collective as part of their resilient women photography series. The series served to honor resilient women by recreating images of them and highlighting their stories.
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The 4th of July, with its effervescent blend of backyard barbecues, vibrant fireworks, and patriotic hymns, is an opportune moment to reflect on what being a Latino in America means amidst the commemoration of the nation's birth.
Independence Day has always been a celebration of the ideals of freedom, democracy, and the pursuit of a more perfect union. Yet, for the millions of Latinos in the U.S., this celebration carries a nuanced complexity of bittersweet sentiments – a beautiful testament to the journey traveled and a subtle reminder of the struggles that persist.
Being a Latino in America is an experience that often entails standing with one foot in the rich cultural legacy of our origins and the other planted firmly in the fertile soils of American opportunity. It’s navigating between two languages, mastering assimilation while nurturing the seeds of our vibrant cultures, and preserving the legacies of those who walked before us.
In the echoes of Independence Day parades and parties, Latinos are not merely spectators but active participants shaping the national narrative. We savor hot dogs along with tamales, wave the Star-Spangled Banner alongside our nations' flags, our histories converging, our stories entwining, adding new threads to the tapestry of American diversity.
We honor the courage of our predecessors who traversed difficult terrains in search of the American dream, carrying only the light of hope in their hearts. Their resilience and fortitude have not only shaped our community but have become a foundational pillar of the American narrative. These are the shoulders of giants upon which we stand today.
Yet, it would be an oversimplification to paint a picture of our community without acknowledging the challenges we continue to face. As Latinos, we grapple with systemic issues ranging from immigration policies and education gaps to health disparities and language barriers. We find ourselves persistently fighting stereotypes, endeavoring to reshape the narrative that attempts to confine us within the narrow confines of misconceptions and generalizations.
However, amid these challenges, we find a reason to celebrate, just as the founding fathers did centuries ago. Our celebration, like theirs, isn't a denial of the adversities we face, but rather an affirmation of our collective strength, resilience, and tenacity to overcome them. We continue to find ways to contribute and thrive, reinforcing the fact that our diversity is America's strength, not its weakness.
As we celebrate this 4th of July, let’s remember that being a Latino in the U.S. is an integral part of the American story. We are not outsiders looking in, but partners in the continuous creation of this nation. Our voices add depth to the chorus of freedom that resonates on this day, our experiences add color to the fireworks that illuminate the night sky, and our hopes for a more inclusive and equitable future fuel the promise of America. It is in this unity in diversity that the true spirit of the 4th of July lies.
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