An Ugly American

I was a dumb Mexican. A Wet Back and not good enough to play with the red headed girl across the street. I was not allowed to join the Blue Birds an off shoot of the Girl Scouts. Nor was I invited in to many of my friends houses.  

This is me, a little girl at a birthday party sitting next to Tommy, the Birthday boy who was my best friend. You could say the seat of honor. And yet his mother thought nothing of picking me up at my house to go and visit him one evening and then leaving me in her car in the dark while she went into her friends house for hours to perm her hair. I was probably not good enough to be invited in. And their I sat, obediently, looking longingly for her to return so that we could continue on, so that I could play with Tommy.

I show my childish grinning photo to make a point. As far back as I can trace, my family came from Spain and settled in New Mexico by way of Mexico. Not recent immigrants they had been in New Mexico when it was a territory, then a state. As far as I know they had been there from the 1600’s. 

From New Mexico they moved to Colorado where my parents moved to California. I am surely an American. I pledged the flag every day, stood no matter when the National Anthem played even on the TV. I was taught to hate the Indians. I always wanted to be a blue blooded Cowboy. Davy Crocket was my hero because he fought at the Alamo. I  even believed that the Hawaiians were lucky to become part of the United States, after all they would be able to have all the modern conveniences  that All Americans had.

But as this grinning little girl, I endured much. Name Calling, rejection and hatred. I wanted to be like the little red headed girl or the blond with ringlets. Surely I would have been a much better person had I been. I held it against my father for having brown eyes even though his half brothers and mother had blue. I surly was defective. And because of this I never really felt like a true American.

Here I am today, still trying to come to terms with who I am and having much empathy for those who are the underdog. My eyes are wide open now. My mind has expanded, and though there are many things I don’t like about America, I am an American, through and through. Through all these experiences it is my responsibility to make sure that I can take my past and make it work for the future. Change the ugly in The Ugly American to The Beautiful, the kind and The Non Judging One.

I’m not dumb, my family never snuck across the Rio Grand and though I would never deny it if I was, I am not Mexican. I am an American of Spanish decent. And for those of you who don’t know the difference then the pot is calling the kettle black. Dumb indeed.

Children, You must Learn to Get Along

Something bothered me today about a B movie I saw yesterday. It lingers now, affecting how I think about people. The movie itself is not memorable. A 17 year old kid enters a 500 mile sled dog race to save his parents farm and get money for college. You know the kind of movie and most likely can predict the ending. 

The Iditarod happens to be an interest of mine and, though this was nowhere near that, I wanted to watch just for the race. As in all movies you either have the bad guys or a seemingly insurmountable object.  In this one you had both. 

The frost biting weather, the frozen or not so frozen lakes and the unforgiving tundra divides the men from the boys or the soul from the body as the case may be. A 17 year old boy entering and thinking that he has a chance especially when he's never raced gives the movie it's suspense. 

Then there are the bad guys. The stereo types that Hollywood can't seem to make a movie without. And this is what bothered me. There were the noble Indians, the kind American and, here we go, the evil German who kicks dogs and threatens the young boy. The German's sponsor  is a Scottish  tight wad who will stop at nothing to win his money.

The German was the one who bothered me the most. Now I have friends in Germany. Rainer, whom I've corresponded with for 18 years is the kindest, happiest man I know. 

It was on a train ride through Germany where a bunch of young athletic girls came to my rescue, tossing my luggage hand over head to move it for me when I had unknowingly put it all in the wrong place. And just recently I've come to know a couple of more young Germans through my Twitter site who are just adorable. 

Movies like these in the past had influenced my way of thinking about Germans. The movie always portrayed them as harsh, cruel and evil thinking. It wasn't until I made contact with Rainer that I actually got to know about Germans and Germany. This is a shame. Our society today is so easily swayed. Even with the news we seem to only get the negative side. The more negative it seems the more sensational it is and the more they shove it down our throats until we can only see the bad side of people. 

That German in the race could have been an American that had tried to harm the boy in the movie. Kicking dogs is not unknown here. Can you say  Michael Vick? Look at the puppy mills. Just look down the street at dogs who are chained and never leave the yard. 

Talk about cruelty to children we now have on trial a woman who killed her own little girl and dumped her in a plastic bag. This is not an isolated incident there are many. You can go on and on about the atrocities that have been performed  by Americans. 

 What I'm trying to say is, we are no different then any other race. We've tried to exterminate the Native Indians, we've experimented on a race of black men, (Tuskegee) we've even experimented on children (http://tech.mit.edu/V115/N49/radiation.49n.html) So why do we persist on stereotyping other nations? 

And my god, obsession with money. Why do we still paint the Scots as the proverbial cheapskate who will stop at nothing to get his hand on a dollar? Why we have Bernard Madof. He has bilked and ruined thousands of innocent people. 

All's I know is that I've got to start taking the news, movies, and "informed" opinions with a grain of salt. If the Pakistani man that I met at the museum is representative of his race, a person who listened attentively, had wonderful insights to offer and some very interesting statistics to share,  I'd truly like to meet more of them. His concern about his children's colds and the illnesses in his family only spoke to me of a person I seem to have talked to over the fence, at the store, or the office water cooler. 

I only hope to meet more people from other parts of the world. I hope that we all get to meet one another. I hope that we can come to an understanding, an appreciation and a love. 

Let's take our own advise that we give to kids when they are playing in the park. "Now, children can we all just play nicely.