Are Latino-Americans white? Black? Other? Illegal aliens from Mars? Or are we the very face of America?
We aren’t encouraged to think for ourselves and ask questions. We are expected to accept what they teach us as infallible truths.
This is what I know about my parents. They spent the next several years trying to forget each other, and me.
Foisting an identity on people rather than allowing them the freedom and space to create their own is shady.
When we illuminate the road back to our ancestors, they have a way of reaching out, of manifesting themselves...sometimes even physically.
To me, travel is more valuable than any stupid piece of bling money can buy.
Hip-hop...has been the proverbial key that’s opened the door for me to roam this breathtaking planet.
The hospital room was as cold as dead skin, the hallway crowded with lost souls and reeking of illness.
We made history when President Obama appointed Sonia Sotomayor, a proud Latina, the first Hispanic Supreme Court justice. And as the President likes to say, 'Every single one of them wasn't just the best Latino for the job, but the best person for th...
I knew my mother was - well, her ancestry dated back to John Quincy Adams, so she was totally not Latina. She was definitely whatever you call it - white bread, shall we say?
I've been blessed because every single role I've done has been an educated person. I've never done the stereotypical Latina, even though I have an accent - I've always been able to play educated people. That's a good thing!
Latinas' life expectancies are relatively long. When a current retiree hits 65 and begins receiving her benefit check, she can expect to live another 22 years. That life expectancy is higher than white women or men.
Because Social Security is specifically designed to boost the retirement income of low earners with a progressive benefit formula, the program has played an enormous and necessary role in keeping Latinas out of poverty.
I think Dad wanted to feel the pain, to feel his body cry, an urgent reminder that he was still alive. I pretended not to notice.
The tension between people is palpable, and the ideal of what it means to be and look American becomes a preoccupation to folks around the country, including me.
Lately, Mami’s eyes have been so dark, I don’t like looking into them because I’m afraid I’ll fall in.
This thing I am feeling, I’m almost certain, is the closest I’ll ever come to standing somewhere in between truth and reconciliation.
Sometimes opposites attract, or so they say, but Paloma and Rocío were like arroz and mangú: they didn’t really mix well.
If it weren’t for her setting me free, I may still be a caged bird today, holding my own daughter captive on a shit-laden perch.
I guess it all depends on whom you ask and when you ask. Race, I've learned, is in the eye of the beholder.
I remember feeling that pieces of me were scattered around the world; I belonged to her, Mother Earth.
