Walking into my eighth grade classroom, I felt out of place, a swimming pool where I was suddenly drowning. It’s scary how moving two hours away, from Miami, Florida to Fort Myers, Florida, can make such a difference in a person’s life. I know this change, into one of the South’s most segregated cities, has deeply made a difference in all aspects of mine.
For the past five years, I have been one of the few brown people in schools with a large white student body. I felt like a crayon. And like a crayon, I was taken to a piece of paper where white suddenly surrounded and engulfed me. The only way I could overcome something like this was to make my own scribble. This is exactly what I did. In my school, workspace, and community, I have evolved into a unique brown scribble, placing my color out there for the world to see. Although I did conquer this task, it was a difficult journey with a variety of obstacles in the way.
My journey started when I left for three weeks to New Haven, Connecticut, during the summer of 2007. I engaged in a summer program at Yale University. For the first time in two years, I felt comfortable in my skin again. So comfortable, in fact, that I started referring to myself as “Brown”. Yale not only challenged me academically, but it also helped me learn more about myself and other cultures. Taking two classes, participating in a debate seminar at night, eating dinner at the campus’ dining hall, studying in the library, living in the dorms, and befriending people who were from every corner of the world helped me really value my roots. I felt at ease in my skin, like I was in a box with multicolored crayons. When I came back home, to Fort Myers, I brought my new alias along with me. I was tired of living a colorless life. I was not going to settle for assumptions that I am Mexican, Indian, or Cherokee. I was now a proud Peruvian hue of brown amidst this flood of white.
Although the color brown is often thought of as boring and unpredictable, I counteract this conjecture. I’ve learned I can add to the mix with not only my attitude, but with my culture as well. I often surprise my teachers, for one day I’m a serious student with books and the next, I replace books with a bottle of bubbles and a cup of coffee. Those who know find that all of this just fits my persona. Somehow, I manage to balance schoolwork with my creative mind. This balancing act bursts through the work I do as managing editor of my high school yearbook. As editor, it takes an immense amount of organization as well as creativity to put together a yearbook. A successful book includes taking exceptional pictures, writing attention-grabbing stories, making deadlines, and most importantly, capturing cherished memories. Throughout the three hundred sixty-eight pages, I display what truly makes me shine. Every project I involve myself in always comes together at the end; however, it puzzles onlookers how I manage to fuse my organizational talents with my creative mind.
Although I do enjoy thinking random thoughts, I still stay grounded, honest, and as down-to-earth as humanly possible. Like mud, dirt, and trees, the color brown allows for a path to connect with everything on this blue Earth. I’ve found that my “browness” has allowed me to connect with the people around me; thus, I’ve incorporated my culture into my attitude at school. One of the issues I have always had a problem with has been stereotyping in my community, especially in my school. I remember introducing myself in a series of icebreakers at my Freshman Retreat. Right after I informed my leaders and fellow freshman classmates of my name, age, and my favorite hobby, the question that followed was, “So are you like Indian or something?” Judging a book by its cover is one thing that I have struggled with ever since I moved here. Luckily, before I hit the edge of the paper, I’ve always had someone to scribble me in the different direction: my mom.
I know that when I hear the glass cups in the kitchen cabinets start shaking, she’s home. I suddenly remember where I’m from when my mom walks through the door. I know she’s one of the people in my life that has truly shared all her knowledge and experience with me. If it wasn’t for her, I would probably be completely Americanized and not know a pinch of Spanish. From a young age, she told me that I had to work hard to get to the finish line. She took me to Peru and showed me how hard the people worked. They were happy though because they worked to live simply and enjoy life to the fullest. I know that even today, this holds true. My mom, to me, is an extraordinarily hard working person. Juggling two jobs, keeping up the house, cooking everyday, taking my younger brother to karate or soccer, and still having time to spend with my brother and I just amazes me. She likes it though. I help her out with what I can. I take care of my brother when she’s working, drive him to school or practice, make breakfast, try to clean up, do laundry, and keep her up-to-date with my life. I do all of this, not only because I love her, but because I admire her and see her as an important role model in my life. She was the first in her family to leave Peru and made the decision to start a life in the United States. Sometimes I’m talking to her and it baffles me how exactly she is still functioning and still enjoying her life. She always tells me, “Hija, I can’t just stay home all day. I do this all for you and your brother. I want you guys to have the best life you can have.”
I’ve embraced all my experiences, my friends, family, and culture. I’m open to every person’s lifestyle but still stay true to mine. I still like to listen to Spanish music and dance merengue or salsa at family parties. I still watch romantic telenovelas on Telemundo when I can. I still eat and enjoy the funny food full of spices unheard of in this area of the state. I still think in Spanish when I do math, my favorite subject in school. I’ve learned my skin, my attitude, and my culture blend into a mélange that creates stability and adds warmth to a dull palette. For me, I am the everlasting tan person, coffee sister, russet daughter, brunette student, and the brown friend.
Ineffective, cold, finite