My name is Bianca Rosa Carey. A very Italian/Hispanic first and middle name followed by a very basic American last name. This represents my heritage: a descendent of a Honduran immigrants and farmers on endless acreage fields in Pennsylvania. My mom says it’s good because it gives a me sense of ~cultural ambiguity~. She says “it’s so cool, you can blend in with so many cultures without question.” But is it so cool? I can pass as hispanic when I want or white when I want. This mixed culture, yet being raised in a very Americanized household, has always conflicted me and this became quite apparent in my trip to Panama.
With my olive skin tone, the presence of Latino culture could be considered obvious. When I went to Panama this fact was evident. Upon my arrival, and even at the Miami airport, I had people approaching me speaking Spanish. I’d panic because I can’t speak a single word. The divide between both my cultures became apparent. The language barrier continued when I volunteered at a local Boys & Girls Club there. The kids would come speak to me but I had no clue what they were saying. Shortly after, however, I realize that the language barrier doesn’t mean much – we could easily communicate via hand gestures and facial expressions and have the same amount of fun.
Going to Panama was anawakening. As a lesser developed country, the socio-economic injustices were apparent. Yet, the kids were more gracious than anyone I have met in the States. Seeing the living conditions and such diverse culture there saddened me that I had never bothered to explore my own Central American roots. I never bothered to learn the conditions my mom grew up under nor the circumstances that pushed my grandparents to move their entire family to a whole new world. This trip taught me so many lessons but left me questioning my identity – am I actually able to call myself Latina if I don’t know anything about the heritage, language or history?
