Monday, August 07, 2006
Mexico y yo
This journey, as it approuches it's end, has taken me to all kinds of emotional extremes.
There were times when I wanted to leave- when I wanted nothing more than to be back in my suburban Dallas womb. And there were times when I couldn't imagine leaving- when I knew that nowhere could I be more content.
Sometimes I felt like a giant yellow freak who tripped over his own tongue while trying to talk. Other times I felt like a golden guest, welcomed by all, always with an audience for my babblings.
At times I was alone and rejected. Other times I was I was in the company of people who loved me like no others.
Ever since I have studied Spanish, and likely even before that, I found and made connections with Mexican culture. As always in my life, in college I had Mexican friends, but as my ability to speak the language expanded so did the number and diversity of aquaintances, including undocumented workers from remote mountain villages to upper middle-class students who came to study in Dallas from the modern industrialized cities of Mexico. And, of course, all kinds of eople in between those extremes.
Without generalizing too much or making an unfounded conclusion I would have to say that those people became my close friends BECAUSE THEY WERE MEXICAN. That is to say, the openess and friendly tendancy found in these particular Mexican peopel allowed them to discover and accept who I was far better tahn any of my countrymen, friend or foe.
I can say this because for all of my childhood and adolescence I found an excess of rejection and attempts by others (my countrymen) to deconstruct the image I had created for myself.
For some reason I have difficulty with the modern American identity. Everyone lives entirely in the present, forgetting the rich history that we have and ignoring the future that we must work hard to ensure. I am constantly bewildered by my American friends. They are lovely people but their social behavior usually leaves me cold and its a struggle not to get my feelings hurt. I guess I cannot criticize any of this because it is totalyl satisfactory for most Americans, but that's why Ia m sure that I am not "most Americans."
And it's not th at Mexico is free of the same sociological phenomena, but somehow, at least in my view, Mexican society tends to be more individualistic (or better said, accepting of the individual) and more collective (as in, people can depend on one-another) at the same time.
Of course, I speak I speak only from my experience. The Mexican national character cannot be explained in a few pages of my journal let alone a compaison beween the two societies (see "Labyrinth of Solitude" by Octavio Paz). To explain my personal connection, this does suffice. ¶ 9:58 PM
There were times when I wanted to leave- when I wanted nothing more than to be back in my suburban Dallas womb. And there were times when I couldn't imagine leaving- when I knew that nowhere could I be more content.
Sometimes I felt like a giant yellow freak who tripped over his own tongue while trying to talk. Other times I felt like a golden guest, welcomed by all, always with an audience for my babblings.
At times I was alone and rejected. Other times I was I was in the company of people who loved me like no others.
Ever since I have studied Spanish, and likely even before that, I found and made connections with Mexican culture. As always in my life, in college I had Mexican friends, but as my ability to speak the language expanded so did the number and diversity of aquaintances, including undocumented workers from remote mountain villages to upper middle-class students who came to study in Dallas from the modern industrialized cities of Mexico. And, of course, all kinds of eople in between those extremes.
Without generalizing too much or making an unfounded conclusion I would have to say that those people became my close friends BECAUSE THEY WERE MEXICAN. That is to say, the openess and friendly tendancy found in these particular Mexican peopel allowed them to discover and accept who I was far better tahn any of my countrymen, friend or foe.
I can say this because for all of my childhood and adolescence I found an excess of rejection and attempts by others (my countrymen) to deconstruct the image I had created for myself.
For some reason I have difficulty with the modern American identity. Everyone lives entirely in the present, forgetting the rich history that we have and ignoring the future that we must work hard to ensure. I am constantly bewildered by my American friends. They are lovely people but their social behavior usually leaves me cold and its a struggle not to get my feelings hurt. I guess I cannot criticize any of this because it is totalyl satisfactory for most Americans, but that's why Ia m sure that I am not "most Americans."
And it's not th at Mexico is free of the same sociological phenomena, but somehow, at least in my view, Mexican society tends to be more individualistic (or better said, accepting of the individual) and more collective (as in, people can depend on one-another) at the same time.
Of course, I speak I speak only from my experience. The Mexican national character cannot be explained in a few pages of my journal let alone a compaison beween the two societies (see "Labyrinth of Solitude" by Octavio Paz). To explain my personal connection, this does suffice. ¶ 9:58 PM
