Looking at me, some people cannot help themselves but to ask about my ethnicity; some are rude, some are friendly but most of them cannot figure out the real me.
Once, while waiting for a friend to meet for lunch, a woman passing by on the street looked at me and said: “I bet you cook a lot of Mexican food at your house”, to which I replied: “No, I don’t, my maid does, sometimes.”
My last name is borrowed from my husband’s family who originally came from Germany many years ago. My birth name is borrowed from my father’s family so I’m really confused on who I really am. My mother didn’t have a leg to stand on, as she was a mixture of Spain and Mexico. So the conversation goes on like this:
Q: Where are you from? A: Sheldon, MO
Q: What’s your Nationality? A: American by birth
Q: Where were you born? A: Los Angeles, California
Q: What’s your accent? A: I have no accent; I speak the international language.
Q; How many languages do you speak? A: American English, Cuban, Mexican, Argentinean, Peruvian, Chilean, Ecuadorian, Costa Rican and many more, including the international language of using your hands to demonstrate what you need.
Q: Where is your family from? A: Cedar County, MO
Q: No, originally. A: Originally, we all come from Adam and Eve
Q: What’s your ethnicity? A: Now, that should have been the first question.
Q: And? A: Native American
Q: Are you really Native American? A: yes, and Southern Spain, Morocco, some Irish and other places in the world.
Q: What tribe? A: Aztec
Q: So, you’re not telling me where you’re from. A: I just did.
The last person who asked, I just pointed to my name printed on a card on my desk and he smiled and said: “I knew it, you’re German.” To which I answered
Echt gut.