June192013
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June182013
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My bloodline is split. Peruvian and German. On my father’s side, we can trace genetic history as far back as the Germanic dynasty of Hanover(diverging by patrilineal rule from the House of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, also known as the ruling house of Windsor in Britain). On my mother’s side, I have no definite history other than oral tradition. It is suggested that some of my ancestors are Jewish and Rroma peoples emigrating to the Americas to avoid persecution in Spain. If this is true, then they appear to have been quickly assimilated into the Spanish Empire, which would of course include European Spaniards and the conquered Quechua (Inca) people. On my mother’s side, it’s all guess work. On my mother’s side, my family history has been paved over by Spanish Colonialism. I was raised to think of myself as “American”, mostly because my parents thought it would make life easier for me. I have never claimed whiteness, but my history has been white-washed. I was raised in a white culture, but made incredibly aware that I am not white every time I have been asked — “So what are you?” “You some kind of Mexican?” “You got Injun in you?” — or told I “must be a beaner” or called a “squaw” by a white person. In turn, I have never been fully accepted as “brown enough”. I have no connection with anyone who shares similar descent. My tribal ancestors are extinct. I have no cultural identity. The way I am dismissed or rejected altogether based on my racial appearance is confusing and isolating. I am reminded of it every day. I am a hybrid and a freak and other.

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