Confessions from a Peruvian who wishes she was more Peruvian

There has only been one time in my life (in the United States) where someone has come up to me and assumed I spoke Spanish-- and that was at an airport, where an elderly Latina woman was frantically looking for a departure gate, so it could've just been coincidence.

I have very pale skin, an assortment of face freckles, and varying shades of brown hair. People don't always believe me (or believe me with private reservation) when I tell them I'm 50% Peruvian. 

I don't usually take selfies, but when I do, I catch my reflection in a bathroom mirror.

"Yes, it's crazy, but I swear I'm Peruvian!"

Sometimes, after I tell someone I am Latina, they will squint a bit and look at me sideways, as if now that they know, my facial features will realign themselves and my skin will become a few shades darker. (Try it with the photo above, and let me know if any pixel magic happens).

I'll shrug awkwardly, and depending on what kind of mood I'm in, I may try to launch into my long list of "proofs that I am Peruvian." Here's an abridged version of how that usually goes:

1. I'll pull up a photo of my mom on my iPhone. "She looks Hispanic, right?"

2. If that doesn't work (my mother happens to be especially light skinned), I'll pull up photos of my grandparents. "Okay, they really really look Hispanic, right?!"

3. I'll bring up the fact that I speak Spanish fluently. Maybe not well enough to dictate a legal document, but certainly well enough to have a long conversation or give a talk at mi abuela's funeral. "Spanish-- or Castellano as we call it in Peru-- was actually my first language."

4. I might talk about all the family recipes I know how to cook-- papas a la huancaina, empanadas, kabocha... "I ate quinoa before it was cool." #quinoahipster

5. I'll share anecdotes from my trips to Peru-- such as the time I translated a local tour guide's funny jokes for English-speaking tourists or the time I visited a recently excavated ruin where my mom used to play as a child. "We stayed with family when we visited."

6. I'll show doubters my ID. "If I wasn't Peruvian, why would my middle name be Bejarano?"

7. Optional: If in my car and in the SF Bay Area, I will play copious amounts of Latino Mix and sing along. But who doesn't love Latino Mix? I even enjoy listening to their commercials.

Getting rained on at Ollantaytambo, Peru. Does the poncho make me look touristy?

Victoria-in-2009 probably cared more about proving her heritage than the Victoria of today cares. What's that trending Internet meme, "haters gonna hate"? 

With age and maturity (and I say this a little tongue-in-cheek, I'm only 25 and used a hashtag a few paragraphs earlier), I've discovered that what others think of you doesn't matter as much as what YOU think of yourself. 

Internalizing an Identity

So, what do I think of myself?

People look at me and, 9 times out of 10, assume I'm just another white girl. But this is where it gets really disconcerting, because, 9 times out of 10, I look at myself and assume the same thing. 

Maybe it's because whenever I try to find the Inca-in-the-mirror, I find can't-dance-white-girl instead. Maybe it's because I grew up thousands of miles away from Peru and my Peruvian extended family. Maybe it's partially due to the fact that people treat me like I'm white, and I've internalized that identity with more intensity than I've internalized my Peruvian identity.

I can casually whip out the fact I'm Peruvian, and people will show surprise. They'll think, "oh, that's really cool," but they won't stop thinking of me as a white girl. I'll be a white girl who is a little Peruvian, the same way I'm a white girl who majored in English or a white girl who took a year of Russian in college or a white girl that likes Bollywood.

It's as if "white" is my primary identity, and Latina my secondary.

But the crazy, crazy thing is that I am biologically 50% white and 50% Peruvian. So there should be no SECONDARY and no PRIMARY identity. Just equal halves.

How do I change my mind about myself? Do I get plastic surgery and a spray tan? Do I move to a country where I'm forced to communicate only in Spanish? Do I work with a speech therapist to develop a strong accent?

Or is the answer more simple than that? Maybe all I need to do is embrace who I am (and who I am not) and be okay with that. 

Now, excuse me while I go listen to "Taboo" by Don Omar again (which is mostly in Portuguese, but based on the Andean song "Llorando Se Fue" by Los Kjarkas, which is based on Lambada, a type of music).