I am from Texas, a fact which I was embarrassed to tell people when I came to college because of its unacceptably lasting racism, particularly against the Hispanic community. Since I was little, my olive complexion has consistently confused strangers into asking what my ethnicity is. Over the break, I went to get my eyebrows waxed by an older white woman at my local nail salon in Dallas, Texas. After pulling off the first strip, she asked me:
“What ethnicity are you, miss?”
“Half Indian, half white.” I replied.
“Really? White girls never have this thick of hair!” she laughed. “I would have guessed you were Mexican.”
I said nothing until the end of the service and politely left the store. While I know this woman did not mean harm by what she said, I was greatly irked by her lack of consideration for the generalizations she was making about me and about Mexican women in general.
“What ethnicity are you, miss?”
“Half Indian, half white.” I replied.
“Really? White girls never have this thick of hair!” she laughed. “I would have guessed you were Mexican.”
I said nothing until the end of the service and politely left the store. While I know this woman did not mean harm by what she said, I was greatly irked by her lack of consideration for the generalizations she was making about me and about Mexican women in general.