What’s wrong with being ‘too American’?

Edgar Sandoval

By Edgar Sandoval
Minority-Affairs Reporter
The Morning Call, Allentown, Pa.

Posted: April 24, 2002

There I was, eating at a local Mexican restaurant, chatting up one of the waiters. He told me he is taking English classes.

Good, I told him. Keep it up.

Yes, he said, my teacher is an American.

Come again?

Yes, he said. You know -- an American.

That's a pretty broad definition, I told him.

He looked confused. No, you know, an … American?

After a few minutes of playing dumb, I figured he meant to say his teacher was white. For many Latinos, white equals American. But if "they" are American, aren't we too?

I wanted to tell him that yes, his teacher is an American, but so was he, even though he doesn't speak English very well and his skin is dark brown. But he lives and pays taxes here and one day hopes to vote.

But I figured it was no use.

I have gotten into small confrontations with other Latinos on the same subject. Other people, in their view, are always the Americans, while the Latinos are, well, simply that -- Latinos.

One woman came into the office, giving me the good news about the county approving her idea for a "Latino-oriented parade."

"Isn't it great, that they are allowing us to have a Latino parade in a land that is not ours?"

Many first-generation Latinos simply do not get the picture. I speak Spanish, I watch Spanish TV ... hmm ... therefore, I must be a Latino and "they" must be Americans.

I know this because my parents are first-generation Latinos, who insist they are Mexicans. I am the American wannabe, or in their view, the "too American." See, sometimes for first-generation Latinos, losing their "Latinhood" is like a nightmare. They will be Mexicans, Puerto Ricans, Colombians first, and the other, second or maybe even never.

My family members see me as the American one. Not by my skin color or accent, but by my actions. I was reminded of that when I visited home in Mission, Texas, on the Mexican border, a while back. There I was, sitting between my older brother and my younger sister, both married, both with children. My siblings are the traditional Latinos -- married young, having children -- and I, well, I am the gringo, slang for "American."

My parents sat at each end of the table.

So Edgar, what are you now, 24? When do you plan to get married and have children?

Ahh, probably never, pass the stuffing.

What? My mom said. I mean, don’t ever say never. We want grandchildren from all of you. Your plate is almost empty, finish it.

But I don't want children. It's too much food Ma'.

Ahy Edgar. I don't know who taught you all that stuff. You are like one of those gringos ... Leaving the house before you get married. Leaving for far-away cities to work for newspapers without knowing anybody. Thinking about yourself. You like Nebraska that much? Have more turkey.

Oh, no thanks. I ate like a whole one already. And I live in Pennsylvania Ma'.

What are you going to do now? I have seen you, Edgar, as soon as you eat something, you go out and run. You are not going to gain weight. I spent all day in the kitchen and you better eat it.

I'm eating, looking at Ma, reading my Entertainment Weekly.

You leave that and eat! Edgar I am talking to you!

Then, she said it. The words that redefined my status back home: You are too American!

I almost can see everything in slow motion. My brother half-smiling at me, wishing he had come up with the nickname. My sister, dropping the spoon as she was getting more stuffing, looking at me with those puppy eyes as if to offer moral support.

My two little sisters breaking away from their daily Spanish-language soaps to look at my facial expression. My father, sitting at the head, rubbing his belly, and wondering if there's more beer ...

I continued eating my turkey and was about to say, "Can you believe it? Julia Roberts is dating that guy from "Law and Order." But I figure that would just prove their point, reinforce their world view.

Being "too American" at my house means I cannot talk about stuff I have read. I better not say that both the House and the Senate make up Congress and it's not a third entity. Or that you cannot buy the corporate ladder at Home Depot. Or that New England is actually in the United States. Because if I do, my family will say, there he goes again, thinking he knows everything, because he went to the university.

Because he is too American.

But I figure, what’s wrong with being "too American?" Don't I have the right to be as American as the next guy? Besides, their idea of "too American" means a single professional guy who leaves home to look for opportunities elsewhere.

I know that one day, I need to sit down and talk to them about what it really means to be American, or too American, or half American, for that matter. But not now. There are stories to cover, and entertainment rags to read. For now, I still am their too-American guy.

Edgar Sandoval was a Summer 1999 Scholar who interned at The Tennessean in Nashville. Reach him at EdJSandoval@aol.com.

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