Attitudes toward Dark-Skinned People
Tia Concepción had a light complexion and wavy hair. She was considered a beauty. Older family members would say, “Se mira muy Americana [she looks very American].” She was proud of her white skin.
My mom was dark and had Indigenous features. She had straight hair and strong cheekbones. I remember that when my son was born, those on his dad’s side of the family kept saying how “white” he was. They were so happy he wasn’t dark like me. He was told that his family had come from Irish ancestors in Mexico and that this was why he was so light skinned. Being dark or light was important on both sides of my family. My brother was nicknamed “Negro.” I never knew if he considered it an insult or a term of endearment.
There have always been prejudices against Black people, but since we didn’t know many in our young lives, we heard disparaging remarks only occasionally. My oldest brother would watch football games in the heyday of the Dallas [Texas, USA] Cowboys, and when Bob Hayes, a running back, would make a touchdown, he was ”the best player in the whole world.” When he messed up [made a mistake], he and his race (Black) were disparaged.
In my predominantly white high school, a Mexican American classmate came to school furious because a Black family had moved next door to her house. Older family members, tias and tios [aunts and uncles] who lived in the United States, would say bad things about Black people—the same things that were said to us Mexican Americans in school.
When we moved into the city, we encountered more Black people. The Black neighbors behind our house had two sons. They became part of our family because they attended high school with my younger brothers and sisters. One of them gave a eulogy at my father’s funeral. To this day we introduce them as our brothers.
We have dark-skinned nephews, great-nephews, and great-nieces, and we love them unconditionally. We wouldn’t change anything about them.
San Antonio, Texas, USA
(Present Time 204, July 2021)