Soc 402 - Racial Identity

Thomas Estrada

SOC 402

Racial Identity

Dana Rock

7 July 2011

Looking back, I am surprised at how little my ethnicity was such a factor in my childhood and later adult life growing up. Let me explain; even though I am 100% Hispanic (My dad's last name is Estrada, my mother's last name is Hernandez), I am 5' 11", 190 lbs., with black hair and blue eyes. My parents and younger brother are all 5' tall. I stand out at family reunions because of my height. I took a year of Spanish in High School and got a C- (and was promptly grounded by my parents). But even though my parents were proud Hispanics, they wanted nothing but the best for me growing up, ethnicity or not.

As I mentioned before, during family reunions, I stuck out like a sore thumb, mostly by being a foot taller and wondering how much lighter skinned I was than the other family members. But then again, I was 10 so as long as I played dodge ball with them, I was fine.

I didn't think my ethnicity was a big issue until I bought home paperwork to register for high school. After taking a good 30-60 minutes deciding on the correct amount of classes that would determine my future, one of the last boxes to be checked was "Race". I stopped, conflicted. Do I check "Caucasian" or "Hispanic"? I studied the question for the longest time and committed the biggest mistake of my life up to that point: Asking my mother what race I was.

The next week, after the feeling returned to my jaw, I asked my parents what was the big deal in what race I was? They explained they moved from Texas to Michigan because of the limited number of employment opportunities they were. "Since the 1850's there has been a steady migration from Mexico to the US. The average income in Mexico is less than it is in the United States, so the quest for higher wages and a better life has lured many Mexicans to this country". 1 Realizing the economic situation was bleak, they moved to Michigan in 1964. "Why Michigan"? I asked. "Because it was the most northern state we could afford to move to, plus General Motors had an internship program your dad qualified for and we wanted to get out of this godforsaken state".

So with that in mind, even though they considered themselves proud Hispanics, they always regarded themselves as Americans first. One of the things they vowed to do was to not raise me the way they were; they would encourage me to get good grades and help with my homework, encourage me to socialize with "white kids" (their words, not mine) and raise me in the most non-traditional "Hispanic" way they could. They said that if I had a good education and applied myself, I would go far in life. They also wanted me to go to college and get a degree as I would be the first Estrada in the family line to obtain a degree. This of course corresponds to the US Census statistic that states only 53.9% of Hispanics obtain a high school diploma. 2

So with that knowledge, I entered high school and before I started my first class I was asked to go to the registry office. Picking up my books I walked over to it and sat down. After a few minutes, I was called into the office where they had my high school paperwork on the desk. The instructor asked me if I made a mistake when I submitted the paperwork. I quickly ran through the classes I had selected and wondered how I could have made a mistake as I had followed the instructions to the letter; I replayed the entire episode in my mind and wondered if my high school career was over before it began. I thought I couldn't tell my parents I didn't get accepted into high school. I thought I'll run away, that's it. No better yet join the Army and go overseas, that's it or better-"Mr. Estrada, we reviewed your paperwork and were wondering why you checked "Hispanic" for race"?

When my heartbeat subsided, I said I put Hispanic in the box because that's who I am; a Hispanic. The teacher looked me up and down and said, "Are you sure"? I told her my family history about Estrada and Hernandez and the journey from Texas to Michigan. After finishing my story, she said that would be ok and welcome to Breckenridge High School.

While in high school, I did as my parents asked and got good grades and applied myself. I performed extra-curricular activities such as helping volunteer at local charities and events. I even took up sports and eventually lettered in Track, cross country and baseball. This directly contradicts the study that says Hispanics perform poorly in school and instead form street oriented friendships. 3

I went to high school from 1983-1987 and to be honest the issue of race and my last name never came up once even though the school was 95% white. I remember I got a few quizzical looks at first when the teacher was taking attendance, but after looking at me, they simply shrugged and looked away.

The only time my race played a part in high school was when I was in a class with what my mother called the "true Hispanics". They were the ones who wore dirty clothes, had horrible grades and were constantly in detention. My mother was worried they were going to corrupt me and in her eyes I would be joining a gang, spray painting on walls around town or joining La Raza. I kept to myself in the class and about a month before graduation one of the students (I forgot his first name but his last name was Ramon) asked me about my last name. Taking a deep breath, I recited the story about Estrada, Hernandez, Texas, etc. After finishing my story, he looked at me and said, "Your last name is Estrada, but you're....white"? We looked at each other for a few minutes then we both laughed at how insignificant the whole situation was. After that, the Hispanics in the class looked at me as an "honorary Hispanic, even though to them, I was in their words "an average white kid".

After high school, I joined the Air Force and upon entering the Military

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