Forks in the road

by Adriana Consuelos

As a part of the human experience, we all face that formidable fork in our life, and in fact some of us experience it more than once.   It is the plot twist in our story, the one we tend to fear. It is the change that comes unannounced, at moments when we cannot possibly bear one more ounce of weight. This kind of monumental disruption forces us to make a choice.

The world has lived through many disruptions. This time the disruption is a pandemic, an invisible force, Covid19.  We told each other to stay home, and we put the world on pause. Born out of this nightmare are stark exposures of several wrong turns. Like developing film that becomes clearer with time, the outcome of past choices grows more defined. In the light of the catastrophic changes that the pandemic has brought, the inequities existing amongst and across the lines of race, gender, sexual orientation, and class have been exposed.  The barriers to healthcare, economic resources and social resources have been exposed.  Communities of people all over the world have been made vulnerable. And the message received by the most vulnerable, is one that lacks of empathy, “that’s the way we have always done it.”

No one’s human experience is the same, although a common thread weaves our stories.  From a woman whose community has been made vulnerable, here is mine:

I knew from childhood that somehow my Mexican ethnicity was incorrectly viewed as less than, lacking.   Why was this so?   Had I or my ancestors done something that I should be ashamed of?   Was I less intelligent than my lighter skinned counterparts?  Magazines often told me so.   The TV often showed me so.  I grew to perceive my heritage as shameful. I resisted claiming that beautiful heritage and embracing my “Mexicanism.” My race has been depicted as lazy, drunken, incapable, unintelligent and “bad hombres.”     When asked where I came from as a child and young adult I responded:  “Italy.”   This was true, in fact my mother is Italian and my first language is Italian.   But why had this fear and shame become so entrenched in me?  I feared wearing my hair curly because I was pigeon-holed as a “Latina.”    I spent money on having it straightened thinking it would somehow “lighten” the view others held of me.

There have been many moments in my life that have caused pain and anger.   The time I was pulled over for being in a car my race couldn’t possibly afford and asked not for my license but for my green card.   Being asked if my family had worked in the fields as migrant workers.  The joking reference to being a “wet-back” as my people must have come to this country illegally and only by swimming across the Rio Grande.  The assumption by others, before uttering a word, that I wasn’t capable of speaking English.  The moment my father was mowing my yard and was asked by a passing car how much he charged.  His answer: “It is free.  This is my daughter’s home and I do it because I love her.”

My father immigrated to this country from Mexico.  The hardships were great but he embraced his Americanism and soared.  He not only overcame but he conquered the racial and ethnic barriers.   He supported this great country and helped in defending it as an Air Force civil servant in the Special Operations Command.  

These experiences are mild compared to what others have endured for centuries based only on the color of their skin. I had allowed these voices to become a shameful core belief for the early part of my life.    My family actively exposed me to the rich customs and language of the land of my ancestors.   They are beautiful and colorful.  I have learned to become strong and proud, despite public perception.

Today, I have never been more proud to be a Mexican American.

My experience with racial discrimination isn’t unique, and maybe it reminds you of your own experience or that of someone you know. This time of great change and disruption has shed a spotlight on our differences.   But are they really differences that should be dismissed or discouraged?   Absolutely not. They are proud differences that aren’t so very different.   We all seek the same things:   love, understanding, appreciation, to really be heard and respected. And despite our differences, we stand together in front of a fork in the road. Covid19 has disrupted the world, it has been the plot twist we didn’t ask for, and it has exposed the pain that we were too distracted to address. It is time to make a choice. 

Let the choice be empathy. Let this disruption be a spiritual awakening. Together, we can reach out our hands, pull up and push forward all our people no matter what color.  We have the power to unify. This fork, which is littered with broken hearts, lives and dreams can most definitely be a bridge to a wondrous future. A chance to rewrite, start anew, free ourselves and open closed hearts and minds.  Now, more than ever, the platform, the stage lights, and the boom rests in front of us with a very large microphone attached to it. Speak your truth, demand change in the most peaceful way possible. Educated your children, friends and even strangers.  Be the example.

Let us embrace this beautiful quilt of culture and diversity and wrap it tightly around us.  Let us relish in the beauty of this very similar difference that threads us together. 

Out of pain is born a new way.