Being Latinx in Portland has been an arduous and pivotal experience. However, it’s my roots, culture, language, and grit that has been necessary for my survival and flourishment.
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When people ask me where I’m from, I tend to shut down: I was born in Mexico, but raised in the U.S. — I speak both Spanish and English, but stumble with my words — I am proud of my heritage, but don’t know quite enough — I love community, but find myself hesitating because of my “brownness” and if I’ll be accepted (in all kinds of spaces).
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These past 5 years are a testament to pushing against systems of control. Whether it was the anxiety, depression, and self-hate associated with my undocumented status — or the resulting privilege I have obtained as a permanent resident — or the navigating of primarily white spaces — or being the token brown person — or being the loud brown person — or mentoring and guiding countless students that are navigating through the same bullshit I had to experience — or never being able to thank my mother enough for all that she has done for my sister and I — All of this motivates me to strive for better, even if I don’t know who, where, and how I stand in the scheme of things.
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Being Latinx in Portland is different than being Latinx in Southern California, but the parallels are haunting. They say to keep Portland weird, but I say fuck that. There is entitlement, gentrification, racism, and so many other things affecting its populace. And, I intend to be one of those folks that fights to change the status quo; it takes people power. I am trying to figure out how I fit in, but at some point it’ll all make sense like Common from Southside Chicago.