My daughter is mixed. I am an American born Latina of Mexican decent and my husband, who was born and raised in Hawaii, has a white mother and a black father. I tell you this because even in 2009 when we are supposed to be a multi-cultural society things still aren’t all that P.C. Let me share a few examples of incidents that have gotten under my skin in the last few days.
If I were to tell you my last name, you would absolutely know that I am Latina; it’s one of those last names like Garcia, Lopez, or Rodriguez that are undeniably Latino. I happen to be tall and fair-skinned. Growing up, I can’t tell you how many times after hearing my last name someone would say to me, “Are you Mexican? You don’t look Mexican.” Actually, I do look Mexican because Mexicans come is all shades and sizes. Some of us even have green or blue eyes; mine are brown, but my brother’s change color depending on what he wears.
I hated being told that I didn’t look Mexican because it made me feel uncomfortable. It let me know that the person who was saying that to me had preconceived ideas about what Mexicans are “supposed” to look like and they were wrong. It put me, at a very young age, in the position of having to educate people about their misconceptions.
Now, I’m all grown up and I’ve gone through this so many times that I can comfortably respond without getting upset, but I was caught off guard the other day when someone looked at my beautiful daughter and said, “She doesn’t look Mexican.” Really? She’s going to have to go through the same thing. Only for her it will be worse because she’s not just Mexican; she’s also black and white. She’ll get to be told that she doesn’t look Mexican or black or white.
I found out about Handy Manny from relatives whose little boy loves Handy Manny. These relatives are on my husband’s side; therefore, they are not Latino. When they told me that Manny was Latino, they said it in a way that let me know they thought he was a good role model. He may very well be, I don’t know. I haven’t seen the show. But why, oh why does he have to be named Manny? Manny, which is short for Manuel.
I grew up hearing racist jokes about “Manuel Labor”, the Latino you would hire to do all your dirty work. This could all just be some strange coincidence, but come on! Children do not question these things; they just become ingrained. We exist in a context and I can’t believe that not one single person during development thought that perhaps they could have named the character something other than Manny.
For those of you who have never heard the derogative term, Manuel Labor this is how Urban Dictionary defines it:
1.
MANUEL LABOR
A Term for all of the undocumented workers of america, doing the actual work that americans will not do any more
Lazy American #1: damn, you mean we have to actually hammer nails today
Lazy american #2: no we will just cruise on down to the local 7-11 and pick up 3-4 “manuel labors”. they will do the work, we will get most of the money.
lazy american #1: thank god. you had me worried for a second
by the a.h. Apr 6, 2004
2.
Manuel labor
Physical labor performed by an illegal alien.
I don’t care who didn’t show up for work I ain’t gonna dig that there ditch. What do you think my name is anyhow? I don’t do no Manuel labor.
labor work illegal alien immigrant blue collar by Jason Lennard May 25, 2006
3.
manuel labor
A derogatory term that is used to describe a Mexican person.
Hey that manuel labor just crossed the Rio Grande!
by 9 Mar 10, 2004
Incident #3
A friend and I love to get hand-me-downs for our daughters. Her daughter is younger than mine, so she gets Put Pie’s hand-me-downs. Whenever my friend gets hand-me-downs that are to big for her daughter, she’ll give them to Put Pie to wear first. We sit and go through all the clothes “oo-ing” and “ah-ing”. In the last batch, there was a set of onesies that had pictures and words on them like, a picture of a nurse that says, I’m a little nurse. When we got to one of them my friend said, “I don’t think my daughter could get away with this one.”( Her daughter has red hair and blue eyes.) It said, I’m a little Indian and had the accompanying picture. We laughed and put it aside. Later when my husband came home, I showed it to him and said, “Maybe, I’ll cross off the little Indian part and write Native American.”
The next day, I decided to put on a CD of children’s songs that my daughter got as a gift. I don’t really like kids songs, but I thought she might enjoy them. We heard Old MacDonald and She’ll Be Comin’ Round the Mountain. Not my cup of tea, but fine. Then we heard, “One little, two little, three little Indians…”. Really? I don’t want my daughter singing that song. The CD went in the trash.
After that, I went and looked up the song online. It is an ugly song with an ugly history. It was used in minstrel shows and originally said “injuns” in some versions the “N” word was substituted for “injuns”.
I found the following on Wikipedia:
The original piece, then called “10 Little Injuns”, was written by songwriter Septimus Winner in 1868 for a minstrel show and was much more elaborate:
Ten little Injuns standin’ in a line,
One toddled home and then there were nine;
Nine little Injuns swingin’ on a gate,
One tumbled off and then there were eight.
One little, two little, three little, four little, five little Injun boys,
Six little, seven little, eight little, nine little, ten little Injun boys.
Eight little Injuns gayest under heav’n.
One went to sleep and then there were seven;
Seven little Injuns cuttin’ up their tricks,
One broke his neck and then there were six.
Six little Injuns all alive,
One kicked the bucket and then there were five;
Five little Injuns on a cellar door,
One tumbled in and then there were four.
Four little Injuns up on a spree,
One got fuddled and then there were three;
Three little Injuns out on a canoe,
One tumbled overboard and then there were two.
Two little Injuns foolin’ with a gun,
One shot t’other and then there was one;
One little Injun livin’ all alone,
He got married and then there were none
I’m not militant, I can be as un-P.C. as the next person, and I can take most things with a grain of salt, but REALLY?
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