Labels for Latin American people vary

BY ZANIEL WALDO Staff Writer

Sincethe founding of the United States, people of Latin American ethnicity and lineage have seen various terms and labels created for their classification.

Among the many, such terms include Hispanic, Latino, Chicano, and Afro-Latino.

My personal favorites are Chicano and Mexican-American.

At one point, Chicano was used in a derogatory manner against Mexican-Americans. Nonetheless, in a political act during the 1960s, Mexican-Americans would change its connotation when they adopted it as a term of cultural identity.

They fought to be identified as Chicanos, which is incredibly important to me.

In recent years, LatinX has gained a surge in popularity, with many organizations adopting the name for Latin ethnic-based events.

The new generation who use the term hopes to be inclusive of the larger number of immigrants and their descendants from all Latin American nations. They see a shared experience of struggle and a kinship that will move us forward together. They are also fighting for gender equality and the inclusion of LGBTQ+ people.

Although it appears that the current generation has fully accepted LatinX, there is a division in the accep- tance of the term’s usage.

Among many Delta students, there was like-mindedness on the dislike for its continued use.

Andrew Solbtor, a third-year Delta college student, said his upbringing in Mexico makes it hard for him to identify with the term.

“I personally don’t see the point in using LatinX. I think we should keep trying to find these new terms. We should just try to make sure they’re incorporating our culture and not incorporating outside influence. It’s easier to say the letter x in a word in English than it is in Spanish so it’s kinda like we’re bringing in outside influence into Latin American culture to try and fix this issue when we can do that with the way our language has developed,” Solbtor said.

The aspect of outside influence finding its way to dictate and classify Latin ethnic people is a serious point to consider.

In the U.S. government’s official classification of Latin people, many cultures were left feeling misrepresented and obsolete.

When filling out any official form, the only two options for us were Hispanic and Latino. Even though I would spend most of my life checking off those terms, I never fully identified with them.

Delta student Nayely Mendez was also critical of the use of LatinX and Latino and how it may promote a continuous colonial classification of Latin ethnicities.

“There’s not really a gender base concept within the Spanish language. I understand why by using LatinX and ChicanX that you incorporate all genders, but you’re taking a language that already doesn’t have that genderization as much. For Hispanic and Latino it’s a concept of colonialism to label us and grouping everybody excludes all the traditions and cultures that we have,” Mendez said.

Sarah Seekatz, Professor and Cultural Awareness Program Chairperson at Delta, noted her learning experience from her mentor in college.

“There has never been one word that all folks agreed on to talk about Latinx folks. It didn’t exist historically, and it doesn’t exist today. I think that’s because what we call ourselves (and what we choose to call others) is a political act, an act that has power. I choose to be informed on the history of each term and use the ones I think are the most appropriate and am grateful to see others exploring the same,” Seekatz said.

From my experience speaking with Latin ethnic people on campus, I found there is an agreement in that there is a benefit to having various different labels for Latin ethnic people to identify with. It allows everyone to feel connected to their culture and not struggle with cultural identity. Although there may always be the struggle to find the one term for everyone to unite under, for now, at least the people can bridge their cultural identities to feel connected to their respective traditions.

Deconstructing The Angry Black Woman

Emotional day turns into changed perceptions, hurt for student seeking help

BY CHRISTINA GOODMAN

Photo Editor

Whenyou look at me what do you see? A strong Black woman? A woman with a nice smile? Do I seem ap proachable? Appear likable?

Or do my oversized-hoop earrings and nose ring reinforce Black stereotypes? Are you scared I’m going to say something to you? Does the normal volume of my voice make you anxious?

Do you see me?

Or do you see an angry Black woman?

That’s a question I’ve had to dive into recently when I took a stand for myself. Earlier this semester, I became emotion al after encountering a challenge that could have prevented me from graduating.

Graduating has been a goal for me since 2019. The pandemic detoured my initial finish goal, but by earlier 2021 I was back taking classes, checking off class by class on my General Education and major course lists.

A situation related to my application to graduate came up. It left me raw, emotional, damaged, confused and disap pointed. I nearly left campus and vowed to never come back. A year before I would have done that. I would have walked away. I would have given up.

Instead, I chose to do something I had learned in my journalism classes in the past year. I went to ask questions. I pushed myself to advocate for myself.

I ended up in a campus office asking to speak to a counselor to figure out why my education plan didn’t seem to match with the path I needed to be on. I had questions. I wanted answers. In that office, I found judgmental stares.

When a worker was talking to me all I could hear was the sound of the adults on Charlie Brown. So that I didn’t get more upset, I decided to get up, walk out and compose myself.

As I walked out people asked me if I had everything figured out.

They wouldn’t stop asking me questions — and all the while my emotions were building and tears were flowing. I felt as if I was backed into a corner and I couldn’t get out of it. All I wanted was to leave the office. I couldn’t even open the half door that let students in and out.

I was on an emotional roller coaster.

I exploded and started telling the students that were in there to make sure they have everything in order. Yes, I was cursing. Yes, my voice was louder than usual. But I wasn’t angry. I was hurt.

I didn’t feel listened to. I felt cast off. I felt as if no one wanted to solve my problems. When I asked to be left alone, I was not given the space I needed.

I was distraught. I was crying.

Instead of the moment I was asking for, campus police were called. That felt like betrayal, particularly because these were people who had seen me on better days. The police, to their credit, handled the situation in a way that could have easily gone different.

That situation propelled me on to seek help from higher ups, to end up in a high-level administrator’s office, and to figure out the situation.

I wasn’t angry on that day. I felt no one could help me.

The looks on the faces of those in contact with me showed me the reality of that stressed mental state: I had become an angry Black woman.

That hurt me to my core.

I can’t shake the feeling to this day. Now when I talk to people I am on edge and guarded, constantly aware of how I might be perceived. That bothers me. I don’t want to step into those offices again. The angry Black woman identity is one that doesn’t go away. My smile now masks the emotions. I’m still cry ing inside.

In today’s society, we work to make sure we don’t label people wrong. Labels are harmful. Labels change perceptions.

As a Black woman, I often get looks when I talk my normal way, which is perceived as loud. I am stereotyped for the way I present myself. I am made to think less of myself to conform to a standard that doesn’t fit me. Society wants me to downplay myself.

So my passion and standing up for myself makes me angry.

Speaking my mind and wanting to be heard makes me angry.

Feeling emotional and being hurt makes me angry.

Even if I am not.