Some Thoughts on American Dirt, Cultural Identity, Cultural Appropriation and other Assorted Nonsense in My Life

I guess there's a book out called American Dirt which is getting criticized because it was written by a white woman about a Mexican woman fleeing Mexico because she's getting chased by someone involved in drugs or something. I haven't read the book; I'm just going on what I've seen online so far.

Apparently, Sandra Cisneros endorsed the book, which really pissed off Alisa Valdes Rodriguez. Read the brilliant blog post, “Auntie Sandra's Cabin: Why No One Should be Surprised Sandra Cisneros Endorsed American Dirt.” It's a fascinating read, and parts of it made me think, “right on.” It's also sort of summed up why the so-called “voices of their people” quasi-academics/writers have never really appealed to me. I can't identify with them. I grew up in the Midwest the daughter of a government worker and a restaurant employee. I grew up wanting take figure skating, gymnastics and ballet lessons, which I never did as a kid. I was able to finagle horseback riding lessons. I wasn't forced to take Spanish, but I took it anyway. And maybe that is part of what makes me different from other Hispanics.

So a big part of the problem with American Dirt is that there are some stereotypical references in it that are deemed offensive. Specifically because the author of the book, Jeanine Cummins, is white. In case you need reminding, Hispanics can be of any race, according to the United States Census. So theoretically, there are probably a few Mexicans whose racial background is fairly or mostly white. My niece and nephew are three-quarter German, but have a Spanish surname. That fact alone would probably blow the minds of several people, but whatever. I'm half German, with a Spanish surname. I'm pretty certain I'm mostly white too, but until I take a test from StealYourGeneticInformation.com, I won't know for sure.

This novel is getting praised and panned, for a number of reasons. White woman using stereotypes and occasionally (I'm assuming) lapsing into Spanish, white woman using terms like mami, white woman knowing how to work the system. I say that because Valdes wrote The Dirty Girls Social Club about 20 years ago and got several dozen rejections. Why? It wasn't “authentic” (read: brown enough.) Valdes simply wrote about her own experiences, and they just weren't good exotic enough. Valdes talks about her novel getting rejected in her post, but there's a happy ending. The novel eventually DID get published, but she points out something extremely important: publishers want the “authentic” Latino/Arabic/Jewish/Pacific Islander experience, but will reject it if it doesn't fulfill their fantasy of what that should be, in their minds. Cummins on the other hand, wrote about an experience alien to most white American women. And not only did it get published, she's a freakin' millionaire, AND there's a movie in the works! It might not be any good, but as long as it sells, it's fine. And as Valdes writes in her post, publishing is white. A Mexican writer writing the same story would get rejected, but it's because the woke white woman wrote it that people are going bananas over this. Look, papi! Whitey gets it! She gets us! Never mind that cousin Julia's diary about her very similar situation is way more compelling!

I don't think I have ever read anything by Sandra Cisneros. Academic writing can be very boring, and ethnic academic writing can be the worst, pounding out the ethnic experience over and over and over. It irritates me. It's also depressing. I whine plenty about my life, but I try to make it funny, at least. Maybe that's why I haven't read any of her stuff. Maybe it's because I don't feel very Latino myself. And I can partly thank the Latino community for that. I've had measuring looks from men who approached me when I was a paint desk jockey at Lowe's speculating if I could speak Spanish, based on my name and my darker than thou hair and skin coloring. And sit down, folks, because this might shock you: I'm not necessarily welcomed with open arms when I say to the speculative men that my dad was Puerto Rican. Especially if said gentleman is Mexican. WHAT?????!!! You mean Hispanics aren't all one big happy family? Hell to the no. Years ago, Vice published a great article called “Latino is the New Black”, which made the bold, never have I ever seen in print before declaration that “Latinos are as racist and classicist as anyone else.” And it is the fucking truth.

I think people who aren't Hispanic are shocked when those who are admit we like a wide variety of stuff, some of which is Anglo as fuck, like ice hockey. Pretty sure my brother was the only “Latino” in McMillen Park Ice Arena's hockey program. He also fucked up his leg playing football in junior high. White guy stuff. I studied piano, cello, and took horseback riding lessons, like a good little white teenage girl. I never worked part-time at my family's bodega or restaurant, because we never had one.

Cummins went to Mexico, her imagination took off, and wrote a novel for which she got a seven-figure advance. I wonder, if someone Latino had written the very same thing, if the novel would even get noticed. Some say this is cultural appropriation, but I think maybe it's just excellent marketing. I don't intend to read the novel. Just not interesting to me. But the situation just sort of makes me wonder exactly how much we want to truly know each other and get interested in other people's cultures. It almost seems like a crime now, if you are white and really enjoy Chinese culture, or if you're black and you like groups like Depeche Mode. You are THIS, therefore you are not supposed to like THAT. Nor can you take belly dancing lessons if you are not Middle Eastern. And the wonderful use/non-use of the word “nigger.” If you are white, you can't say it. If you are black, you can. I think it's an ugly word and don't use it, unless I'm telling a story about my past, like the one time in elementary school when someone called me a nigger. I guess I had it coming to me, being a Puerto Rican German and all. I really don't like rap music, but if you put a Glock 9mm to my head and said, “You're gonna listen to rap, but you get to chose who to listen to.” I'll say, “I'll take Eminem, thanks very much.” Why? His clever use of word play. That's it. Not that he's a Midwesterner like I am, not that he's from the same state as Madonna. Not because he's white. His clever use of word play. I majored in English. If you know how to use the language and you're entertaining, you've got my attention.

I'm a writer too. I've self-published erotic fiction, and recently finished a rewrite of my first erotic fiction novel, so now I've written two novels. Some fun facts: I write about a particular fetish that I have not seen in a lot of erotic fiction. I also haven't had sex in a very long time. I guess that means I can't write erotic fiction, huh? So I have the first version, which is serious and written in third person, and the newer, funnier version, written in first person. I'm “Hispanic” but my characters aren't. I ran into this problem when I used the project for my master's thesis in grad school. My thesis director, who had that “I'm a champion of the poor and downtrodden even as I'm throwing away big bucks on face cream” demeanor down pat, asked me if I wanted to make my female protagonist Hispanic. I said no. I'm no marketing genius, but I deliberately left the ending to my novel open to a sequel (publishing houses seem to want authors to have more than one novel when offering deals anymore, it seems) and my protagonist as generic racially and ethnically as possible. That declaration probably disappointed my thesis director (who also flat-out told me she didn't want to read a complete novel, so we settled on a page count for my project) but I will say she enjoyed the sex scenes I wrote, which I guess makes me a fraud, since I've never experienced any of the fetish I concentrate on the most in the novel. For all the Latin Lover stereotypes men get, Latina women don't get that pass. We can have fiery tempers, but as it is all over the fucking world, you better keep that cherry intact. Mine got popped during a horseback riding lesson, which is some countries would make me unmarriable, (is that even a word?) but in the United States, my face, personality, emotional damage and weight have taken care of that. I was adamant that my protagonist NOT be Hispanic. Because it still wouldn't have been enough. She's Hispanic but she works retail? As a paint jockey? Why isn't she a housekeeper? No, making my protagonist Hispanic would have opened up a whole other can of worms I just didn't want to deal with. Hispanic in America means Mexican. No one will admit it, but that's the truth. I'm not Mexican. I don't wear traditional Puerto Rican garb. Sandra Cisneros is practically a billboard for Mexican culture, and that's fine if that makes her happy, but I'm not so obsessed with my origins and ethnicity that I have to advertise it. It's the same thing with people who throw their sexual preferences in your face. Why is it even necessary? You're Mexican, I get it. You are from a country that has problems. But is that all you are? You're bisexual. I get it, but is THAT all you are? Someone attracted to both sexes? I'm proud of the fact that I keep fucking going, but I don't wear a sash that says, “Queen of Shit Jobs” embroidered in gold thread on purple velvet. But I think my rejection of identity stems from not really fitting in anywhere. My last name insures that I'm one of “them.” Yet, one of my friends says she doesn't even think of me as being Hispanic. When we went on vacation to Florida one year, I took a picture of my tanned leg next to her white one, posted it to Facebook, and said, “Guess who the Irish girl is.” Oh, sorry. Only Irish people can make fun of how pale they are? Again, sorry.

Yet, in the Hispanic (Mexican) community, I don't quite pass either. I remember being on a panel in college of Hispanic students, talking about their experiences, and feeling odd. I didn't rise up from the barrio, never spent time in prison, never dropped out of school only to come back and finish. I felt like I was the only one there who hadn't experienced any of those things I mentioned above, and I felt like a token. A token what, I didn't know. But I know I resented being lumped in with people I didn't feel I identified with.

So I can understand Valdes's fury about American Dirt. How dare someone visit Mexico and write a novel about someone from there! How dare she get a seven-figure advance! Who knows who Cummins knew in the publishing business who might have dropped a few hints about what might sell? At least she did some research. And I found out Cummings IS partly Puerto Rican (which I know doesn't count, because it isn't Mexican). It can be very depressing being a writer. You write your experience, but if it isn't what publishers feel will sell, you won't get published. That's why self-publishing has taken off. It made Amanda Hocking rich well before one of the Big Five publishers offered her a deal precisely because she proved her writing was profitable through self-publishing. Yet, if she had shoved her writing in a box, deleted it off her hard drive, whatever, she'd probably still be working in the nursing home. It's a conundrum. You write your experience, no one wants it, so you self-publish, and you're looked down upon because no one “legit” will publish your stuff. I've read some self-published stuff that was pretty damn good, so not all of it is garbage.

I'm STILL not going to make my female protagonist, or male protagonist Hispanic though.

Unless they offer me a seven-figure advance. Only then will Conchiquita and Blaque see the light of day.