Race = U

First let me say that I am feeling a whole lot better now, but if I could just get some of that sleep I was storing up all weekend, maybe I wouldn't be so exhausted. Unfortunately, I think I'm just gonna have to settle with exhausted and stressed (well reasonably stressed) until Spring Break 05!! Wild ON Cancun baby!!! Watch out--Mat's Gone Wild!!! Sorry, no CODs.

Okay, so back on track, I had written this awesome blog Monday and then my sister called providing a sinful distraction (I don't know why it was sinful, other than because it had dire consequences). What dire consequences? Well as I finished the blog and went to post it, sure enough it was zapped into cyberspace never to be seen again. So, I will dutifully ry to recreate the post because it was so intriguing, entertaining, and profound.

In recreating the post, I am also recreating the afternoon of Friday, February 4th when I took a venture out on the town to get fingerprinted to work in the schools. The venture turned into an adventure of cultural identity. I had three separate incidents that highlighted the issue of race and gave me new insights on my own identity. First of all, as you know, I don't have a car. I definitely don't have one in Nashville, and I don't even have one at home anymore. Therefore, in order to get to the fingerprinting at the local school district headquarters, I borrowed the car of my co-worker (and a second mom), Carol. Carol has a very nice, new, champagne colored Toyota Highlander. Usually, in principle, I am against the overkill of SUVs, but principles fly out the window when you're behind the wheel of one of those bad boys.

When I'm done cruising down Broadway and actually arrive at the place, I have to sign in at the security desk and get pointed in the right direction. The security guard (for future reference) is about as old, white, and southern as you can get. Very nice man, though. So when I finally get to the fingerprinter (after paying the outrageous sum of $56 for them to tell me I haven't committed a crime), she starts to put in data into the computer.

Up pops the race question. Oh, Mat, what race are you today???? Multiracial? Sorry, we don't have multiracial, therefore you are not multiracial. She brings up the list of choices and I have no clue what to pick. I don't even see Latino/Hispanic as an option (not that I was feeling particularly Mexican that day). "Well, let me just do this," and on the screen I see her enter "Race = U" Apparently, I am of an Unknown race of human beings. This is better than my first guess at what U stood for, an Ugly race of human beings. But, unknown made me feel so not counted, not part of, not KNOWN?? I JUST WANT TO BE KNOWN DAMMIT!!

So, officially labelled unknown, I walk back to the security desk to sign out and I tell the guard thanks for giving me directions. "De nada Senor Espinosa. Adios amigo!" replies the guard to which I stammered a response of "Chao" as I sneak out the doors. In the car, I began to realize that I get this sort of thing a lot out here from strangers. I'll get a "gracias" when I hold the door open for somebody or an "hola" or "hasta la vista, baby" when meet someone in passing. And they are usually from people I don't know and they are usually (and maybe I'm making a bad assumption, but judging from their appearance and accent I don't think so) from people who would not be able to carry on a conversation if I started speaking to them in Spanish. So why do they do it? Obviously, they labelled me as Hispanic/Mexican when clearly I'm Unknown. But, maybe subconciously they think I would understand it better than in English? It doesn't really bother me and I haven't noticed it before because I do speak Spanish. But I learned Spanish in high school. What if I had studied Russian? I wonder how I would react then. Maybe a lot different.

Ronnie has already pointed out that I make an awful lot of Mexican jokes. It's true, my wry wit often comes at the expense of the Mexicans. Another person theorized that perhaps my jokes are a way of distancing and separating myself from the Mexicans, so that others won't believe and maybe I won't believe that I'm Mexican. Maybe that's true too...

But, anyways- to make a short story longer- the final incident happened as I was
pulling into the parking lot in the nice, new, champagne colored SUV. There was a Vandy police car parked just outside of this U-shaped parking lot and as I entered, he pulled out and followed me into the lot. He trailed me all the way until I finally parked about half-way along. When I did, he stopped and waited until I got out of the car with a backpack and finally continued through the lot, only to park, once again, outside. I really would rather not constantly be suspicious of this sort of thing, but given the day I had and the classes I'm taking that focus on issues of social injustices and discrimination, I was kinda pissed off. Plus, it's not the first time something like that has happened between me and the Vandy police. Last semester I was summoned over to a police car crawling along beside me using both the siren and a bright light. He called me over to tell there would be serious consequences if I jumped a fence somewhere ahead of me. Having just gotten back on campus and seeing as it was night, I had no idea there was a fence in front of me at all, let alone a thought about jumping it.

Something to think about and I'd like to hear your comments.