by Michelle Uzeta
I identify as Afro-Latina. I claim that identify because half my family comes from Haiti, an island in Latin America. I also claim that identity to acknowledge the critical contributions Haiti has made to Latin America; contributions that have been omitted or oversimplified in public discourse.
Of course, I should not have to explain or justify this … it’s MY identity after all, complex and multilayered. But countless times over the years I have been expected to do just that – explain myself or conform to other’s siloed expectations.
For example, years ago, after participating in a required “diversity” training at my then-employer, I was pulled aside by two, light skinned, Latina co-workers. These co-workers told me they were “offended” by my self-identification as a mixed race, multi-ethnic woman, something I had shared during the part of the training that asked participants to share how they identify.
I was confused. Was this a joke?
My co-workers went on … “When people see you, they see someone who is Black. You should really just identify as Black.”
Excuse me?
One of the co-workers went on to say that they had a bi-racial individual in their extended family, so understood how “confusing” race and ethnicity must be for me. “I understand your struggle” they said.
I’m sorry, what?
The two then offered to take me out to dinner to further “explain” why the way I self-identified was “wrong” and answer any questions I might have.
Needless to say, I declined.
I spent the next few days questioning why my identity was viewed as “offensive”, rather than something to be celebrated. Why my coworkers felt such a strong urge to “other” and distance me based solely on my skin color, when we actually shared many cultural attributes. Why how I identified myself was not enough for them.
Unfortunately, my experience is not unique. The existence of dark-skinned Afro-Latine is frequently unacknowledged. If they do exist, they aren’t Latine. Not really.
According to the Pew Research Center, one in four Latine in the U.S. identifies as Afro-Latine, amounting to roughly 15 million people. Yet, the erasure of Afro-Latine people, and especially of those who are darker-skinned, has long been an issue within the Latine community. Additionally, Afro-Latine often experience double marginalization: not only are Black and Latine people underrepresented in most arenas of public life, but they often feel shunned within each community. Colorism is rampant.
Hispanic/Latine Heritage month[1] presents an opportunity to acknowledge and celebrate the diversity within Latin culture, including racial identity. A time to rage against a society that clings to categorizing and pigeonholing people based on skin color. Being Black and Latina is not mutually exclusive. To be both Black and Latina is a blessing. A beautiful, intersectional existence.
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[1] Although this month is often referred to as National Hispanic Heritage Month, it traditionally honors the cultures and contributions of both Hispanic and Latine Americans and celebrates heritage rooted in all Latin American countries, not just people from Spain or Spanish speaking origin.