Voices
In The Community
“Salvadoreña? Like the MS-13?”
My eyes roll to the back of my head as I force a plastered smile explaining (again) that yes, they’re a Salvadorian gang but it was actually formed in the United States. And no, my family isn’t involved.
In my nearly 30 years of life, I have seen a slow evolution of how Salvadorian and Central American, which were synonymous with Mexican, grew into its own category. I’ll be the first to admit that growing up I had no idea Afro and Asian Latinos existed, or that not all Latinos are Indigenous because I hadn’t met any. My family consists of mestizos, and the media I consumed portrayed similar or lighter features which I accepted as canon–anything different was uncommon.
I was wrong. Latinos are primarily mixed, which gives us our broad range of features, shades, and cultural identities. Cuba, Puerto Rico, and the Dominican Republic have a strong African influence that is evidenced in the food and music. Peru’s Asian population has left a mark as well, blending cultures and ingredients to create chifa, a cuisine of Peruvian and Chinese ingredients. The Indigenous communities have been around for millennia, with many traditions blending into mainstream Latino culture. Neither of these is less Latino than the other. Each is a piece of Latin America and our identities.
Historically, the United States hasn’t viewed Latinos in a positive light. Despite the contributions and sacrifices made in both world wars, Latinos have been treated as second-class, even when the intentions appear to be genuine. The Bracero Program was meant to prevent labor shortages but resulted in abuse of workers that continues to this day. The Zoot Suit Riots targeted Mexicans, African Americans, and other minorities. It took the 1954 Supreme Court ruling in Hernandez v. State of Texas, which held that the Fourteenth Amendment applied to all racial and ethnic groups facing discrimination, to broaden the scope and determine that civil rights laws included Hispanics and all other non-whites. Discrimination against Latinos–and especially people who are assumed to be Latino based on their appearance–is ongoing (looking at you, SB-1070).
In the media, there’s an interesting juxtaposition of Latinos being portrayed as either sultry lovers or criminals, with over-the-top performances that drive the “feisty” stereotype.
We’ve come a long way from the Old Hollywood depictions showing only what they believed was what a Latino looks like, but Black and Indigenous voices have either been erased completely or fallen to the criminal role. Stories that center the POC struggle shouldn’t be the only narrative point of view because there are so many other beautiful stories waiting to be told.
Social media is the more recent source that has been promoting various Latino voices. Social media platforms allow you to become whoever you want, no matter the niche, which becomes an easy way to educate others. Additionally, with the rising number of Latinos in academia, it’s becoming much easier for kids and young adults to see themselves in a positive light. It’s estimated that by 2025, Hispanic enrollment in higher education will exceed 4.4 million students, which surpasses the growth rate of any other racial or ethnic group. The percentage of Hispanics with STEM degrees rose from 9.8% to 14% between 2009 to 2018 and is only rising.
With hashtags such as #LatinasInSTEM or #Poderosas, and accounts dedicated to elevating Black, Indigenous, and Brown voices it is now much easier to learn about our communities. And with Black and Indigenous voices having been erased for years, creators are diving deep into the oftentimes ugly history of our countries and how we immigrated to the United States and discriminated against our own people, unafraid of having authentic discussions that involve colorism and machismo.
Slowly, educating others in our communities and those outside of it have become possible with the labor done by those committed to breaking the stereotypical barriers. Even as recent as five years ago, if you wanted to educate yourself on Afro-Latino history in Central America you’d come across several hurdles. But with a growing network of Latinos dedicated to unearthing this information it’s just a few clicks away.
Words are powerful. Connecting with others is powerful.
We are not the dirty immigrants, criminals, or spicy Latinas that we’ve seen on our screens for a century. We fit no mold because there truly isn’t one. Not all Latinos speak Spanish, and our features and customs range from country to country. We are now controlling our narratives, and the narratives that the next generation will see.
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First things first: I’m a “mande” girlie. That’s just how my mama raised me, even though I won’t say it’s right.
Having had the experience of interacting with people from different cultures in the classroom, there’s this one thing that always gets a strong reaction from me: when a professor addresses a student and the student responds with: “WHAT?” Or “WHAT’S THAT?”
I’m telling you, the reaction from me is instant. My eyes dart back to the professor, my fight or flight kicks in, and I’m almost drafting a mental apology for this person who, in my opinion, has just been particularly rude.
Of course, that never happens. The thing is, it’s not universally seen that way, right? Maybe it’s just the Mexican in me reacting based on what I’ve been taught.
“Se dice mande,” my mom would correct me if I responded with any other answer to her calls like, “Qué? Qué pasó? Eh? Mm?”
“Se dice mande!” Apologies would follow, and naturally, I’d switch to the “mande” to continue our chat, otherwise, a flying chancla might have been my fate.
In recent years, an intriguing debate has surfaced: is “mande” polite, or is it a subtle form of teaching submissiveness?
In a culture that places immense value on respecting our elders, it's unsurprising that "mande" has been deeply instilled in us from a young age. We say it out of respect. Yet, it still amuses me how I react to someone not using it. My immediate response is to be on guard, as if I'm bracing for someone to become angry or reprimand them. That’s rooted in my upbringing, a conditioned reflex.
Where does the term “mande come from?
To trace the roots of "mande," we need to explore Mexico's colonial past. When the Spanish colonized Mexico in the 16th century, they introduced not only their religion and administration but also their language, customs, and societal norms. The indigenous populations were subjugated and served the Spanish rulers.
It is in this backdrop that "mande" is believed to have been born. Directly translated, "mande" means "order me" or "command me." The indigenous or lower-class people were expected to reply with "mande" when addressed by Spanish rulers, signaling their readiness to obey. Over time, this phrase permeated the common vernacular, evolving into a way for Mexicans to say, "Pardon?" or "Excuse me?".
For many, especially older generations, saying "mande" is akin to "please" and "thank you." They see it as a sign of respect, especially towards elders or authority figures. However, many believe it's a colonial relic, symbolizing the historical subjugation of the Mexican people. Using "mande," they argue, maintains the power dynamics of colonial times, subtly promoting submission.
This debate is so potent, it’s even become a marketing strategy. Ever seen the Corona “Yo Mando” campaign?
Corona wants Mexicans to transition from “mande” to “mando.” It’s a bold move, but will it stick?
Language is dynamic. It changes and evolves, reflecting shifts in societal values and understanding. Take the “Latine/Latinx” debacle, for example. Whether you like either of the terms, actually use them, or feel so strongly against them you need to comment on every social media post using them with a flurry of insults, the terms exist. The terms are used by some, or by many. And they are here to stay.
Similarly, with “mande,” there's no definitive answer. With the rise of decolonial movements and a broader awareness of historical contexts, there's been a noticeable shift in how younger generations approach the term. Many choose to opt for neutral alternatives like “Qué?” “Qué pasó?” “Sí?” which are all perfectly valid. If you value “mande” as polite, “Dime?” or “Diga?” can be just as courteous.
This is not just an attempt to break away from colonial ties but also a part of the larger global trend where societies are reflecting on and challenging their historical and cultural baggage.
So, is saying "mande" wrong?
Here’s a hot take: there's no right or wrong way to express oneself (provided you aren't being hurtful or discriminatory to anyone), and I’m certainly not here to tell you what is right or what is wrong. What is important is that we challenge and question our language, our words, and the way we express ourselves and interact with the world, because language has been around for ages and, well, times change.
It’s great that we’re even having this debate, and it’s great that many of us are now taking a pause to ponder which word better suits us - and that’s the beauty of the Spanish language, and any language, really. It’s also the beauty of our choice to participate in the changing of norms that no longer match the times.
The abuse of power, the remains of colonialism, and racism continue to impact the community. Some places like Canada and even more recently in the U.S., are still finding remnants of inhumane policies in the form of Indigenous children remains in government-founded schools.
White people in power stole Indigenous land and left them with next to nothing without ever making amends. The systemic oppression they face is ruthless and historical and it traces back thousands of years. More recently, government laws like the Indian Removal Act gave the authorization to move Indigenous people forcibly in the early 1800s. Many died in this process, and the colonizer’s heirs are still holding and benefiting from Indigenous lands to this day.
Even though treaties were written and signed to ensure Indigenous lands’ safety, well-being, and respect, the treaties are regularly violated. There are many examples where industries simply don’t take no for an answer and continue exploiting indigenous land for profit without care for the negative repercussions the tribe will have to deal with.
The Dakota Access Pipeline is a well-known example. The treaties are supposed to ensure “undisturbed use and occupation” of reservation lands but clearly, these have proven to just be words on paper and not much else.
And as usual, women suffer from another layer of injustices. Many Indigenous women around the world have been victims of coerced sterilization; an attempt to wipe out their heritage. This genocidal practice has existed for quite some time and has been forcibly imposed on Indigenous women and women of color since the medical practice was discovered in the late 1880s. For example, more than 2,000 poor Indigenous and campesino women were allegedly sterilized without their consent by state authorities in Peru in the 1990s.
Indigenous women are often victims of violence and kidnapping where they aren’t as likely to be found safely or have their cases resolved. Abigail Echo-Hawk, director of the Urban Indian Health Institute, found that native women are murdered at rates 10 times the national average. Indigenous women are brutally murdered annually yet research, media coverage, and authorities don’t give these cases the same prioritization as other cases of violence against women.
After generations of abuse and injustice, Indigenous people throughout North America are making gains in dismantling the system of oppression they are forced to live in and demanding their rights. For example, the first Indigenous Peoples March took place on January 18, 2019, with the primary goal of bringing awareness to the ever-growing list of injustices they’ve been subjected to.
One of the organizers of the march, Nathalie Farfan, is an Ecuadorian Indigenous woman who co-hosts the Latina feminist podcast Morado Lens and leads the La Brujas Club spiritual wellness community.
Many Indigenous leaders are now pointing out that apologies for the crimes against them aren’t enough. The reparations must begin, like returning the lands to their original owners. They’re actively working to gain justice for the crimes against Indigenous women, whether it be forced sterilizations or the disappearances of Indigenous women that go unnoticed. The United States and other North American and Latin American countries have an enormous debt to Indigenous people that must be paid.
While Columbus Day is still a federally recognized holiday, many states are moving to replace Columbus day altogether, or do not recognize it as a state holiday. Indigenous People’s Day is gaining momentum, which is a clear indication that Indigenous people are finally making some progress in getting a country that was founded on their mass murder and cultural erasure to recognize that they are the only original Americans, and everyone else is a descendant of immigrants living on stolen land.
