You Don’t Look Mexican
Many years ago, during an emotional conversation about discrimination in the workplace, an employee told me, “You don’t look Mexican, so you don’t count.”
Her comment hurt, but after some reflection, I realized she meant that I’ve never experienced racial discrimination because I look White.
Then again, what is someone of Mexican descent supposed to look like, and is a person’s looks what defines them?
A little bit about my background…
My mother was Mexican; my father was half Mexican, a quarter English and a quarter Lebanese. My maiden name was not of Hispanic origin—it came from my Lebanese great-grandfather, who, during the naturalization process, changed his name to something Americans could pronounce.
I grew up in a Spanish-speaking household, surrounded by Mexican and American traditions. My parents instilled a deep pride in me. “How lucky you are to have two cultures,” Dad would say.
But with my pale olive complexion, middle-of-the-road height and lack of an accent, I’ve had to convince people that I’m a Latina. It matters in my work as an author, given I write books with Latina protagonists. Some might wonder, “What gives her the credibility to write from a Latina point of view if she’s not Latina herself?”
I can’t tell you how often people have looked at me quizzically and asked, “What ARE you?”
Their eyebrows go up when I tell them I’m Mexican-American, and some even shake their heads in disbelief. “You look Greek/Italian/Jewish,” they say. Or, “I never would have guessed that.” What do I need to do? Wear a sombrero and carry a taco?
The term “person of color” is interesting in my case. Am I a person of color if I’m ¾ Mexican on the inside (+ 1/8 Lebanese) but very light olive on the outside? I consider myself a person of color, but the term can be misleading. A person’s identity and heritage is not about a person’s color.
Many outside the Latino community assume all Mexicans look alike: dark skin, hair, eyes, and short. There’s nothing wrong with those characteristics, but not every Latino has them. Other, more harmful stereotypes about Latinos are that we’re: unintelligent, hot-tempered, overly sexual, under-employed, and crass, earning us reputations as Latin lovers, buffoons, drug traffickers, public resource drainers and criminal invaders.
My writing features fierce, funny, loving, and intelligent Latina women. It’s my way of giving the finger to those who paint whole swaths of people in broad, ugly, harmful brushstrokes.
I may not have experienced racial discrimination because I look “White,” and for that, I am thankful, but damn, I count. You count. You are not your outward appearance. You’re so much more than that. You are not defined by how you look or what you say but by what you do.
I NEED YOUR HELP, POR FAVOR
Tell me what you thought about the book, and if you would kindly do me a favor, post your review on every website you can think of, such as Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Goodreads, TikTok, Instagram, your personal Facebook page, etc. Your vote of confidence in Not That Kind of Call Girl will go a long way in helping to promote the book. ¡Muchas gracias!
PS: Knowing that many of Julia’s experiences were my own, you might wonder how my son turned out. Well, as Mary Poppins might say, he’s practically perfect in every way. I’m not biased or anything!
Author Nova García hails from Laredo, Texas. Her Mexican-American family is a source of great pride. Not That Kind of Call Girl is her first book in the women’s fiction genre.
Nova writes to dispel Latino stereotypes and recognize women for the everyday miracles they make possible with determination, smarts and a generous helping of kick-a** attitude. She knows postpartum depression first-hand and wants women around the world to know they’re not alone.