, 2022-12-27 07:00:15,
As a Mexican American, I love being of two worlds. I feel lucky to have been born in Florida, and raised in a seaside town in all of the state’s wet glory. I feel proud knowing how to make tamales and enchiladas and rooting for two soccer teams during the World Cup.
But lately, I’ve been wondering if there’s more to me than I am.
My mother was born in Ñuu Snuviko, also known as San Juan Mixtepec, a small pueblo in the mountains of Oaxaca, Mexico. It translates to “the place where the clouds descend” in Mixteco, my mother’s native tongue. Surrounded by small farms in a narrow valley, the town of about 7,000 people clings to a gravel road that runs from the base of the Highlands to El Centro Square. On Fridays, El Centro comes alive with the market.
For a long time, I didn’t consider Mixtepec to be a part of me. When people asked about my heritage, I said I was Mexican American.
Then came the audio leak that still reverberates in Los Angeles: City Council members made racist remarks in their speech about several minority groups, including Oaxacans living in Koreatown. Norrie Martinezthen president of the city council, mocked the Oaxacans Ugly, short and dark. she She said she didn’t know “from which village” they came, as if they were too primitive for a city.
The state of Oaxaca is one of the poorest states in the country, and is largely untouched…
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