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- Herausgeber: IVP
- Kategorie: Religion und Spiritualität
- Sprache: Englisch
Life as a Latino in America is complicated. Living between the two worlds of being Latino and American can generate great uncertainty. And the strange mixture of ethnic pride and racial prejudice creates another sort of confusion. - Who are you as a Latino? - Who are you as an American? - What has Christ to say about your dilemma? - How can you accept who you are in Christ with joy and confidence? Orlando Crespo has taken his own journey from Puerto Rico to an immigrant neighborhood in Springfield, Massachusetts, and back again to his Latino roots. In this books he helps you to reflect on your own voyage of self-understanding and on what it means to have a mixed heritage from the days of the original Spanish Conquest to the present.His straightforward approach also takes him to what the Bible says about ethnic identity--about a people who were often oppressed by more powerful cultures. He helps you to see how Jesus' own humanity unfolded in the context of a people who were considered to be inferior. Thus Crespo finds both realism and hope in the good news of Jesus.There is more, however, than merely coming to terms with who you are. Crespo also shows how Latinos are called to step out positively in ministry to the world. You can make a positive impact in on the world in racial reconciliation, in bicultural ministry and more because of who God has uniquely made you to be.Here is a book for all Latinos who want to live confidently in Christ.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017
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Finding Wholenessin Your Ethnic Identity
To mi familia Crespo.
To my loving wife, Maritza, who has always affirmed me in ministry and still “likes me.”
To my son Daniel who taught me to be honest even when it hurt.
To my son David who taught me to be myself no matter who might be watching.
To my parents, Francisco and Casilda, for loving me unconditionally.
To my brother, Edwin, and sisters Marilyn, Sandra and Milagro for always being there when I needed them most.
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION
Hispanic Americans have been here for so long, and yet kept their identity, that it is rather doubtful they will follow the same process of assimilation by which Swedes, Irish and Italians joined mainstream American society. Especially now that there is an increasing awareness of the value of one’s culture and traditions, it seems safe to predict that Hispanic Americans will be around mañana (tomorrow), and for as many mañanas as it pleases God to grant to this country…. Hispanic Americans… are going back to their historic roots and affirming their distinctive, not as something of which to be ashamed or to hide from view but as something of which to be proud and to exhibit at every possible opportunity.
In 1999 I saw a movie, Bicentennial Man starring Robin Williams, that struck a chord in me as a Latino in the United States. In the movie robots have become enormously sophisticated; their design includes human along with mechanical anatomy, intermingling and interconnecting. If either human or mechanical elements malfunctioned, the robot would stop working. In the climax of the movie a human robot, played by Williams, goes before a world congress, which debates the dignity and worth of these new hybrid beings and whether they deserve to have the same rights as fully human beings. The film’s most intriguing and underdeveloped aspect involves the portrayal of a society of humans who resist full acceptance of the humanized robots.
The U.S. Latino experience is like this. Those of us who have been born and raised in this country are a new breed of Latinos/Americans in whom both identities are in operation and who struggle for acceptance in both parent cultures. We are not one or the other. We are both. In Living in Spanglish: The Search for Latino Identity in America, Ed Morales puts it this way: “Latino culture, particularly our Spanglish American variation, has never been about choosing affiliation with a particular race—it is a space where multiple levels of identification are possible…. If the postmodern era is characterized by unprecedented heterogeneity and randomness, then Latinos are well prepared to take advantage of it.”1
I have spent much of my life in this space of multiple identifications, fighting not to choose one over the other, but living in the blessings and contradictions of both. I have decided that I love being somewhere in the middle of both my Latino and American worlds. It has been a place of sadness as I have had to face the cultural weaknesses of each, but somehow instead of becoming bitter, I have been filled with God’s comfort and strength as he has come close to me. I have come to realize that my Latino identity in this country—a conjoining of two ethnic identities— is about God designing a new breed he is pleased to use to influence both cultures and the world.
As a follower of Christ, I have chosen a new path of trust. This trust is no longer based on my own instinct, which is frequently distorted with my own fears, but on the reality that God is committed to my well-being. I have chosen courage because it is the thing I lack most. If I can be courageous—and this is where the cutting edge of my faith rests—then my obedience to Christ truly has meaning and his power can be manifest in and through me. I have reasons to pity myself, but my faith in Christ has blocked the natural course of my self-loathing. I know too much about God to sit back and do nothing. I have therefore chosen to walk into the confusion of biculturalism, trusting that God will be in those places waiting for me. The Apostle Paul said it well when he faced his weaknesses and said: “Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakeness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Corinthians 12:8-10).
This is why I have chosen to think and write about my experience of growing as a Latino Christian, a journey of knowing more about the multidimensionality God has created in me. Understanding myself in the realm of ethnicity has informed me about the goodness and power of God. And knowing the love of God has led me to embrace who I am as a Latino. I want to share my sorrows and joys with you, hoping that my journey of self-understanding may help you snap together some pieces of the puzzle of your own life.
As a second-generation Latino, I write this book for other second- (and third- and fourth-) generation Latinos who are trying to hold in tension their dual identity. While the media is giving increased recognition to Latino culture in the United States, many young Latinos still do not know how to incorporate their ethnic identity into who they are as people. They often swing to extremes, from totally assimilating into American mainstream culture to believing that the Latino culture is superior to all others.
In this book I argue that most Latinos born in the United States will be happiest somewhere in between. I seek to point us toward a healthy balance as we gain a conceptual understanding of Latino ethnic identity and learn how to practically live out our God-given strengths and gifts.
Here is a brief synopsis of what you can expect. Chapter one tells of my own journey toward ethnic self-discovery. In chapter two I explore a new Latino identity that has less to do with the country of origin— although it starts there—and more to do with the Latino experience in the United States. My goal in this chapter is also to broaden the net of who is “Latino” when many are questioning if they are Latino enough. Please note that for the sake of brevity I am using the term Latino in a way that encompasses Latino males and Latina females in the United States.
Chapter three includes a grid to help you map out where you stand in your own journey of assimilation and identification. Since it is important to understand the roots of the sense of inferiority that continues to plague large portions of the Latino community, chapter four takes a look at the phenomenon of mestizaje, the mixing of races. In chapter five I turn to Scripture to meet biblical characters like Moses, Esther, Mordecai, Jesus and Paul who lived out of their ethnicity and allowed God to use it as a catalyst to accomplish his plans in their lives and his purposes in the world. Chapter six defines culture and describes how our ethnicity and our faith can work hand in hand to shape us into healthy, whole people, able to honor God and love our neighbors.
Chapters seven, eight and nine address very practical issues about how we need to move beyond ourselves. A strong bicultural Latino identity is not just about coming to terms with who we are but also about positioning ourselves to serve others through racial reconciliation. We can no longer remain on the margins of discussions about race, hesitant to contribute our views for fear of rejection or inadequacy. We must believe God has something to say to others through our gifts as a community.
Chapter nine offers ideas for how you can give back and facilitate growth in others who need to grow in their ethnic identity. Years ago a Latina professor, the only one at Colgate University at the time, ingrained in my head and heart that I was not in college just to advance myself; I was there to give back y para enriquecer la comunidad Latina (to enrich the Latino community). This entire book, in fact, is my way of giving something back to my Latino community, a community I love and respect and am proud to be a part of.
Finally, in chapter ten I call on Latinos to step into positions of leadership to contribute to making our communities, our churches and our nation stronger and healthier. I also issue a warning not to make ethnic identity an idol. We must invite God into our ethnic journey so that we give it the appropriate level of attention. In doing so we become healthy and whole people who embrace all we are without falling into idolatry of ethnicity and culture.
I have spent the last sixteen years serving in campus ministry with InterVarsity Christian Fellowship. Many of the stories I tell and examples I use come from that context. InterVarsity as a movement has worked very hard at issues of ethnic diversity. Our growth in this area has come from great successes but also difficult failures and painful problems that have felt insurmountable. Multiethnicity is, in fact, complex and messy. Nevertheless, most of what I have learned about Latino ethnic identity has come from dialogue and interaction with fellow campus ministers who are part of LaFe (Latino Fellowship), InterVarsity’s Latino ministry. I am indebted to them for entering into this journey with me, a journey that has elevated and enriched all of us with tears, deep emotions and growth toward wholeness.
Finally, I realize that my experience may be very different from yours, but perhaps there is enough that will ring true and give you greater insight into your experience. This is my journey, and I am inviting you to look into it and see what you can find to help in your own ethnic journey.
I have never hidden my mistakes from my two sons because I want them to be better men than I am myself. As you read this book I hope you will read the lines and between the lines. And after you have read, I hope the Holy Spirit, who is our Counselor, will take my simple words and make you a person who can love and receive love, a person who is not afraid of life. A person who can dream big. A person who hears God and can live to please him. By all means learn from my mistakes, my struggles and my insights. May this book help you find wholeness in your ethnic identity, lead you to glorify God and fill you with compassion for others in need.
1
MY JOURNEY TOWARD ALATINO ETHNIC IDENTITY
My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place.
When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,
your eyes saw my unformed body.
When I was seven years old my parents decided to move our family into a predominantly White neighborhood of Italian, Irish and Polish immigrants in Springfield, Massachusetts. Bursting with excitement and energy during the first week in our new home, we spent much of our time in our new backyard, vigorously raking up crabapples that had fallen from our apple tree. The lawn had not been raked for years, and the more we raked, the more layers of crabapples we uncovered. But it didn’t matter: this was our new home, an opportunity to reach for our dreams, a place where my four siblings and I could live in safety with a backyard to play in. It was truly an exciting season of our lives, and we couldn’t wait to get everything in order, even those mushy, smelly crabapples.
As we raked and filled bag after bag with apples, neighbors passed by, peering into our backyard to see who their new neighbors were. They saw that we looked Latino, and no one approached us to welcome us. A neighbor across the street was outright angry when he discovered we were “Spics” (a derogatory name used for Hispanics in the 1970s). He revealed his disgust every time we played stickball on the street and the ball accidentally rolled onto his property. With resentment and hatred in his eyes he would glare at us and order us to get out of his yard and his neighborhood. “You don’t belong here. Go back to Puerto Rico where you belong!” he’d say, unaware that we had been born and raised in Springfield and had never even visited Puerto Rico.
At such moments I felt confused. I couldn’t understand why he was so disgusted with us. What was so bad about a ball going into his front yard? I made a mental note to stay out of this man’s way. I was afraid that next time he might try to hurt me.
This neighbor watched us like a hawk, taking note of every little thing we did. It became so extreme and frustrating for my family that we nicknamed him Nosy Charlie, which conveniently described both his attitude and his large protruding nose. Only decades later did I fully comprehend the concept of racism and the impact of bigotry in my life, beginning in those first weeks of moving into our new home. Not long after my family moved in, the neighbor and his family moved out.
A 1972 article in New York magazine captured the sentiments of millions of Whites who were similarly being forced to interact with Puerto Ricans moving into their neighborhoods.
These people were “Spanish.” They came in swarms like ants turning the sidewalks brown, and they settled in, multiplied, whole sections of the city fallen to their shiny black raincoats and chewing-gum speech. We called them “meedahs,” [from the word mira, meaning “look” or “look over here”] because they were always shouting “mee-dah, mee-dah.”… I only knew they grew in numbers rather than stature, that they were neither white nor black but some indelicate tan, and that they were here, irrevocably; the best you could do to avoid contamination was to keep them out of mind.1
To survive such hatred of Puerto Ricans, I learned to live in two worlds even as an adolescent. At home I spoke Spanish, ate Puerto Rican food, danced salsa and merengue with my three sisters, and enjoyed cultural events like Parrandas—fiestas during the Christmas season—with my extended family. But when I walked out the front door and joined my White friends in the neighborhood, I left behind my Puerto Rican identity and tried to assimilate as thoroughly as possible. In fact, because of my light complexion some of my new friends in junior high school did not notice that I was Puerto Rican. I enjoyed letting them assume I was White, because they treated me as one of their own.
The moment they discovered I was Puerto Rican, the look on their faces and their attitudes changed. “You’re Puerto Rican? I can’t believe it. I thought you were White.” In other words, I thought you were OK. Now I don’t know anymore. They were not mean to me, but something felt different. They seemed more aloof and less interested in me. They didn’t seek me out the way they used to. As a young teenager very attuned to my emotions, I could feel the difference and I hated it. But instead of brushing this off and seeing their ignorance, I internalized my feelings and saw myself as “less than.”
On the way home after one of these incidents I imagined what it would be like to be White all the time and not just at certain times. I’ll never tell anyone I’m Puerto Rican unless they figure it out on their own, I thought. That way I can feel like one of them and fit in all the time. Somehow I knew this idea would never work and would only lead to greater pain in the end.
I was not proud to be Puerto Rican. We were told we were dirty, loud, uneducated, immoral and unable to speak English “good.” These were the stereotypes I internalized and learned to live with every day as I stepped out into the White world. But at home I received a different message. Our mother, Casilda, loved us and valued education highly. She taught us to study hard. Our father, Francisco, worked himself to the bone to allow us a better life. Our grandparents, Ramón and Alejandra, had a marriage that had endured despite social pressure on their family. My older brother, Edwin, took me wherever he went and was my protector. My sisters, Marilyn, Sandra and Milagro, affirmed me in all I did and believed in me when I could not. In all it was the love of mi familia, their warmth, nurture and sacrifices, that initially sheltered me from the hard blows of prejudice, racism and alienation.
I wish I could write that the alienation I felt from prejudice didn’t hurt me, but it did. It left its ugly imprint on my soul. It seems that some Latinos have been able to let hurtful events roll off their backs like water. I admire and commend them, but I am not one of them.
Given my struggles, I am surprised at how successful I have been and how much I have accomplished. I have received numerous athletic, drama and ministry awards. How can someone overcome by low selfworth succeed in so much? It is because God has revealed his love for all that I am—including my Latino identity at crucial moments in my life.
In times of reflection, as I have allowed my pain to surface, God has kept bringing me back to the truth that he made me with great intentionality and purpose. When I wanted to abandon my identity as a Latino, God picked up all the pieces I wanted to leave behind.
My faith in Jesus Christ and my identity are inextricably bound up together. I am not only a Christian: I am a Christian who is Latino, and I am a Latino who is a Christian.
In this chapter I invite you to take a journey with me as I revisit the events, relationships and circumstances that God used to build my ethnic identity. Like any long journey, mine is filled with rocky terrain of pain and setbacks but also smooth terrain of joy and long strides forward. As if with bright yellow paint used to mark a trail in a wooded area, I will mark the experiences that contributed most to my Latino identity and have moved me toward what theologian Orlando Costas calls a cultural conversion, an awakening to one’s ethnic self. Here are the yellow markers for the trail I have discovered on my journey.
1.connecting with others like me
2.embracing the pain of my people
3.understanding Latino complexity and alienation
4.receiving encouragement for the journey
My hope is that these “yellow markers” will help direct your path and make your journey toward wholeness that much easier.
MY TRIPTO PUERTO RICO: CONNECTINGWITH OTHERS LIKE ME
When I was thirteen years old, my mother decided it was time for my sisters and me to spend a summer with Tio Diego, Tia Juanita y nuestra familia en Puerto Rico. My sisters arrived in Puerto Rico a week earlier than I did. I had to fly alone, having decided to stay to play one more week of Little League baseball.
I was extremely nervous when I got on the plane. I had no idea what to expect and began to feel as if I’d made a terrible mistake. I even thought about asking the flight attendant if I could just stay on the plane and fly back with the crew.
But from the moment I stepped off the plane, something began to stir deep inside of me. Puerto Rico was beautiful. The air was warm and the sun shone brightly. The people were friendly, and they all looked like my family. They spoke Spanish, the language of my parents, the language I resented and thought was stupid. Here Spanish was the norm and Puerto Ricans were the majority. I met family members who were lawyers and studying to be doctors. For the first time in my life I saw welldressed Puerto Rican businessmen and politicians. So this is the island my parents talked about with such nostalgia, I marveled. A lot of things began to make sense as I saw the close resemblance of my parents’ cultural ways to the habits of Puerto Ricans I met. Cousins, aunts and uncles I had only heard about loved me without knowing me and welcomed me with kindness, affection and hospitality like I had never experienced before. One of my aunts took me to the very shack where my mother and her family lived. My mom had told me about this place and the hardships they had faced. I felt I got to know my mom a little better and loved her a lot more. This was the summer that I fell in love with my people, my culture, my parents and my land—Puerto Rico, la Isla del Encanto (the Island of Enchantment).
This was also the summer I began to love myself and my ethnic identity. I had discovered I belonged to a land and a people who were gracious, intelligent and hospitable. I began to embrace who I was and realize to whom I belonged.
Discovering the beauty of my people and culture was a vital first step in my cultural conversion. It was a decisive moment that God used to offset the overpowering experience of being part of a minority that was looked down on by White America. Through it God began to shape me into a healthy human being and a Christian no longer in denial of his culture and ethnicity.
In Puerto Rico I discovered the value of interacting with others who are like you, who simply by being themselves unfold something in you. What you thought was a personal quirk in yourself or your parents reveals itself as a cultural quality. There is no better way to grow in your ethnic identity than through interactions with others who share your ethnicity.
