Hiding

I have kind of danced around this topic in my other entries, but I feel it is best to address this head on. When convenient, I hide my Mexican identity. I hide it from my dad whenever I am around him, because to him I am his white son. I hide it from people in stores, because to them I am just another white customer who is no threat. I hide it from new friends so that they don’t treat me differently or ask me questions that exhaust me to answer. This privilege – the privilege of being white passing – is one that I wholeheartedly have embraced through my actions, but it is also one that strains me to admit I possess.
 

There is a key difference between this activity, and the action of admitting my privilege when discussing my identity. In the latter scenario, everyone in the room knows that I am both white and am also Mexican, so when I call attention to my whiteness it serves to disarm. It ensures that everyone knows we are on the same page, and that I am speaking from the perspective of a white-passing Mexican man. This does not disqualify me from speaking about Mexican experiences or voicing support for causes that primarily focus on issues that non-white Mexicans face. It does, however, need to be acknowledged in some circumstances. The difference between this, and hiding my Mexican identity, is that the latter activity is purely for my own benefit. I only ever hide my identity when it is convenient for me. Am I proud of this? No. Is it true? Yes. 
 

This privilege is central to the way I live my life. I get all the benefits of being Mexican (the culture, the food, the language) and all the benefits of being white (literally every possible good thing because American society is built to benefit white men). This journal is the first time I have ever really vocalized or admitted this to myself, but the journal would be incomplete without this introspection. As I sit here and write about this immense privilege, I keep finding myself attempting to come up with a “solution” to this problem. The problem of my own privilege. 
 

The more I think about it, the less answers I have. Do I even need to solve this problem? Is it really a problem? Am I really hurting anybody by hiding my identity for my own benefit? I unfortunately have no idea what the answer is to any of these questions. Believe me, I wish I did. I fully anticipate that as you read this, you will judge me for this behavior. You will either think my behavior is normal, and there is nothing to be corrected. Or maybe I disgust you because I take advantage of my white-passing privilege. Maybe you fall somewhere in-between, or don’t want to pass judgement on the lived experience of a person that you have not lived yourself. Regardless of your reaction, just know that I am still trying to figure out what I think of myself too.