At a party early in my freshman year, I told a boy that I was Cuban. He immediately responded, “No you’re not.” As intelligently as I could given the effects of partying, I said “Uh, yeah I am.” I didn’t know how to defend my own ethnicity to someone who was rude enough to think he knew my heritage better than I did.
I can’t blame him entirely. I have blue eyes, dark blonde hair, and pale skin. But being from Miami, where the population is over 60 percent Hispanic, where people speak to me in Spanish before English, and where people assume I’m Hispanic, I’ve never had someone question my ethnicity.
This interaction has happened a few times while I’ve been at Georgetown, though. Aside from the usual “Really?,” someone once asked me “What does it mean that you’re Cuban?” after I offered him some Cuban coffee. I think what he really meant was, “How is it possible that you are Hispanic if you’re white?” I responded by explaining that both my parents were born there, and so were their parents. Before that, most of my relatives were Cuban or Spanish.
But, just because those people are ignorant about Hispanics doesn’t mean anyone has the right to doubt my heritage and what I have to say about it, especially because of how I look.
This doubt, however, has taken a hold of me, and I now feel as though I have to prove my Cuban-ness. Aside from slipping the fact that I’m Cuban into conversation just about every time I meet someone, I make Cuban coffee nearly every day and offer it to everyone that comes through my apartment. I’ve cooked ropa vieja, rice, and black beans for around 15 of my friends. At parties I try and play some reggaeton, and I recently convinced a few friends to go out salsa dancing.
I would say that me always talking about something Cuban would bother my friends, but then they get to drink the best coffee in the world, eat some delicious food, and experience the magic that is Cuban culture, something I’m proud to be a part of.
Besides the fact that almost everyone in my family is from Cuba by way of Spain, some relative a few generations back was even on Cuba’s pre-Castro $100 bill. There is paper proof of my Cuban heritage: the guy on the bill looks exactly like my father and shares my grandmother’s maiden name. Hell, my name is Isabel Maria Echarte. Pronounce that with a Spanish accent and tell me I’m not some sort of Hispanic.
But why should I have to prove that I’m Cuban, even to my closest friends who know beyond a doubt that I am?
Well to start, there is a surprisingly large number of Georgetown students who don’t understand that “Hispanic” is actually an ethnicity, not a race. I’ve met white Hispanics, black Hispanics, Asian Hispanics, and people who would be considered “stereotypical” Hispanics.
Diversity here is based on whether you’re from a foreign country. These students often have accents and are more comfortable speaking foreign languages. I, like a lot of Cubans my age, grew up in Miami speaking Spanglish. But I’ve never lived in Cuba, though I’d say Miami is similar enough, and I’m more comfortable speaking English.
I don’t seem to fit into the typical image of diversity here at Georgetown, which surprises me. I thought an institution flush with students who have lived in multiple countries, speak two or more languages, and often study abroad would understand how diverse an ethnicity and identity can be. I thought they would understand that it’s possible for someone to not be a cookie-cutter stereotype of their ethnicity.
Though Georgetown is, admittedly, better than most of the country when it comes to understanding race and diversity, students need to revise their preconceived notions of these two concepts. It’s surprising that in a time and place where we are relatively sensitive regarding race and ethnicity, many people still seem to adhere to stereotypes that we know are not always true. And while I also shouldn’t feel like I have to prove my Cuban-ness, I know that feeling is not going to stop.
The one thing I can change, though, is my attitude toward people’s ignorance. Instead of being a little confused and slightly offended, I can instead approach it as an opportunity to teach people that not all Hispanics are like Sofia Vergara and Pitbull.
Sofia Vergara and Pittbull are both white.