The Coconut

I live in Southern California, just as I have for the past 24 years.  That means that I have since learned how to contend with the occasional heatwave, the regular earthquake, outrageously high gasoline prices, and a billion or so Mexicans.  The weather patterns, the shifting of the Earth’s tectonic plates, and the price of automobile fuel have all become something I’ve learned to cope with.  It’s the Mexican population I’m still trying to work around but believe me, it’s not that easy.  Before any of you jump up to call me "racist", I want to make it clear that I myself am Mexican.  In fact, those of you familiar with the term would probably go so far as to call me a "coconut".  That’s right.  A coconut, brown on the outside, white on the inside.  According to such a seemingly derogatory term, being white is never a good thing, because God forbid that might mean that I’m successful.  Not all white people are successful but whoever coined the term "coconut" didn’t take that into consideration.  I’m sure that I’ve been called that numerous times before, behind my back most likely and believe it or not, I’m okay with it.  You see, the reason I’m perceived as a coconut is because even though I look Mexican, everything on the inside of me appears to be anything but.  Apparently when you aren’t a failure and you’ve achieved some sort of success in life, you are automatically looked down upon, much like a fat kid waiting to be picked for dodge ball.  Maybe this doesn’t necessarily apply to Latin entertainers and athletes but it sure as hell applies to me.  I don’t speak with a accent, like your typical cholo might.  I tend to use proper English most of the time, in both verbal speech and written language.  I don’t wear my socks all the way up to my knees, even when it’s hotter than hell outside.  I actually excelled in my academic endeavors and I enjoyed going to school.  I enjoyed school so much that I decided to continue going even after high school and pay for it myself.  How’s that for pursuing one’s education?  I’m not talking about your run-of-the-mill community college either.  No, not me.  I went for the kill here and decided to enroll in a private university.  I might be broke today but the lessons I learned in college, both in and out of the classroom, are indeed priceless.  I don’t drive a modified vehicle and the entire car is the same color, the trunk, the hood, and every last panel.  I guess you could say that everything about me says nothing about me being Mexican.  Frankly, that’s the way I prefer to keep it too.               

So I don’t fit in with every other Mexican out there.  It’s not a big deal really.  Some people might hear that and wonder how someone could ever manage not being accepted by their own people.  I don’t think it’s a matter of acceptance.  I enjoy it.  I embrace those differences that make me stand out from the rest of the crowd.  Because I don’t fit in with everyone else, I tend to walk around with a certain confidence and a sense of knowing that no one can tell me anything because I am educated.  Education is a very big thing to me and I appreciate it whenever I stumble across it.  It doesn’t happen very often but every now and then it does.  You see, I’m not like everyone else.  I think about things.  I read.  I write.  I’m motivated to improve myself.  I strive to get better, even when it doesn’t seem that there’s room for improvement.    

I like it when people look at me and think, "Oh gee, there goes yet another dumb Mexican".  I love that actually.  I like it when people try to read me and they’re completely off-target.  By calling me just "another Mexican" people underestimate me and I thrive on that.  I love surprising people, sneaking up on them with my voice and my intelligence.  I’m not saying that I walk around reciting Kant, quoting the Emancipation Proclamation, or pondering the relevance of Einstein’s Theory of Relativity.  I don’t do anything even remotely resembling any of that.  What I am saying is that whenever people say something even remotely stupid to me, believe that I’m going to say something back to them.  I might even contradict them and argue why their point doesn’t make sense.  If they have a point and they’ve supported it well, there’s not a whole lot I can do except give credit where credit is due.  You can think what you want about me when you see me.  Just don’t clump me into a group that I really don’t belong in.  Some may call me another dumb Mexican.  Some might even refer to me as a coconut.  Whatever the label may be, it really doesn’t matter.  Before all else, I’m just a person.