The U.S. Census Doesn’t Speak for Me
When do I get to define who I am?
Between 1980 and 1990, the Mexican American population of Texas soared from 2,495,035 people to 3,403,368. My siblings and I were part of that growth. Or at least, I think we were. It is also possible we were counted among the White Europeans. The U.S. Census requires that you choose just one option, which makes it hard to truly count the many mixed-race people like me. Though I was not old enough back then to fill out the census form, choosing my racial identity — picking a side — is something I have wrestled with throughout my life. Often the choice was made for me by others, and the assumptions they made about me were based on their own biases and prejudices.
I have a Spanish surname and am the spitting image of my Mexican American father with dark brown hair and eyes, broad nose, round face, and pale skin with yellow undertones that tans easily. But we primarily spoke English at home, we were Protestants, both my parents had graduate degrees, and we lived in predominantly White suburbs. To outsiders unfamiliar with our Christmas traditions of tamales and bunuelos or with the fluent Spanglish I used to communicate with my Lita’s equally broken and thickly accented English, I was for all intents and purposes just another White girl.
