Cultural Identity & Intercultural Communication: Mexico (LRW)

Whether I'm taking the bus on my way home from school, walking through my colonia on a sunny afternoon, or just shopping for household products in the local Soriana, I get a lot of stares. Not because I am stunningly attractive (although that's what I like to tell myself to deal with the awkwardness), or wearing some ridiculous outfit- no, people look at me, and don't look away, because I am a tall white girl. More than just that, I am a gringa, which is something of an oddity in Queretaro.
 

A drummer dressed in traditional Aztec clothing 

Don't understand me wrong, there are lots of white people in the city. There have been white people in Mexico since the first Spanish conquistadors arrived hundreds of years ago (whose descendants are referred to as "criollos"), and today Mexico is more diverse than ever, with more than a hundred indigenous groups, mestizos, mulatos, and everything in between. But something about me- my facial structure, my clothing, my 5'9 stature- calls out "foreigner." No matter how hard I work at perfecting my Spanish, no matter how many cultural innuendos I learn, it will be always be obvious that I am somehow different.





However, I find myself strangely pleased when people cannot place just where I am from. Because I am fluent in German, and often converse with the Austrian and German international students at my college, many Mexicans think I am German. And, according to my family's heritage, and also because of my cultural experience of living in Austria for a year, they're not entirely wrong. As the chapter in Intercultural Communication Processes so beautifully stated "I am both, and therefore neither."

Visiting the Pyramids at Teotihuacan

But unlike most people from the United States, I would not say that I am intrinsically proud to be American. There is a fine line between patriotism and nationalism, and my experience in Austria showed me how WWII forever changed the meaning of having pride in one's country. But I am also not ashamed to be American- I love the country that I was born and raised in, and will always consider it my home, no matter where I travel. At the same time, I realize what my nationality truly is: a label, just like any other.

Because of this label, I brought a lot with me when I arrived here in Mexico almost a month ago. And no, I'm not talking about my almost exactly 50lb bag, or my backpack stuffed with my most valuable possessions. Arriving from America, I brought with me my American ethnocentrism: everything I had ever learned about how to live my life, in a way that I thought was "right."




So many people think of culture as a specific type of food, a traditional dance or style of art. But in fact, culture describes everything we've ever experienced. What we value, what we spend our time doing, how we go about the most mundane daily activities- that's culture. We can never leave it behind, and this becomes most obvious when we try to talk about unfamiliar cultures. Our perceptions of others are shadowed by our own culture, our own experiences.

All the Mexican stereotypes in one picture

I hesitate to tell my friends from back home almost any generalities about Mexicans, because in many ways, I don't want to reaffirm the stereotypes and "fakelore" that permeate American media about Mexico. I hear it in my mom's voice every time I call her- the way she says "I hope you're being safe," or when she brings up concerns about the Zika virus, or drug cartel violence. In reality, these issues are quite far from me- it's like telling a friend who lives in Maine that I'm really worried about their safety because I heard there's a tornado in Oklahoma.

But as hard as I try to change my peers perceptions of Mexico, I cannot shed my own skin here as a "foreigner." My host grandfather told me that the term "gringo" is derived from the United States army, when locals would shout at the foreigners in uniform "Green, go!" (as in, get out of our country). Yet my host brother refers to me affectionately to his friends as "mi amiga gringa," or "my foreigner friend." Strangers stare, but my rather large extended host family always greets me with smiles, a warm greeting, and a kiss on the cheek followed by a hug. This is one perception about Mexican culture that I will happily affirm: family is important, and friends are made quite easily. Although I may feel uncomfortable at times, I can never claim to feel unwelcome here.

A short walk up the mountain near my house

What is my cultural identity? I am a tall white girl, a gringa, who speaks English, German, and Spanish, living in my third country in the last five years. There is a girl in my Spanish class whose parents are from Haiti, but who lives in Switzerland, studies in France, and is currently on exchange in Mexico. Another student is from Norway, but she studies in Australia and is on exchange in Latin America as well. For them, asking the question "where are you from?" is a difficult one to answer, and I absolutely love that. Being a foreigner is sometimes a strange and culturally stressful experience, but for me, a large part of forming cultural identity is not about labels: it's about where you feel at home.