Skin color on the mind for a new generation of California Hispanics

By Priscilla Preciado, especially for CalMatters

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More than 30 years ago, my father, then a 21-year-old Chicano, was driving to a 7-Eleven in Tustin, where he had recently moved, with four of his friends in tow.

A cop soon followed and signaled my dad to pull over in the parking lot. Soon one car became two, then four.

My father’s slicked-back, jet-black hair, caramel skin, and commanding presence stood out among the white skin that primarily inhabits Tustin. It was covered in ink. War’s “The World Is a Ghetto” blared from the speakers of his lowrider. The cops probably believed they hit the jackpot: cholo, uneducated, most likely a criminal. They searched his car unfairly.

Since there were no incriminating items in the car, the cops advised my father to leave. He and two of his friends had ID so they could go. The other two did not and were detained.

As the Border Patrol joins Immigration and Customs Enforcement conduct roving patrols throughout the countrymy father’s racial profiling incident reverberates today. I feel like the walls are closing in on Latinos like my dad – just like they used to.

Yet what is happening today connects me more to his story.

The eldest of five, my father was responsible for taking care of his younger siblings as his father was in prison and his mother worked in an appliance store to support the family. My father felt like an outsider for most of his life.

When I asked him which aspects of himself he felt were appreciated the most, he replied, “My dress, my skin color, my tattoos. Even as an adult, I still feel like I stand out now.”

Listening to my father recall these stories broke my heart.

My father hung the moon for me, his voice a beacon of light to guide me across the world’s ocean of uncertainty.

As a senior, I wanted to celebrate my graduation with my dad, but the idea of ​​stepping foot on campus made him nervous.

“I don’t want to stop you from getting more opportunities,” he said.

My father internalized the world’s perceptions of him and imagined himself as an obstacle to my success, assuming that his physical appearance would always supersede his inner self. Profiling split my father in two. Apparently, the world wanted to take away the image of my father that I held so dear: a devoted father, a diligent brother, a husband.

I never saw my father as an obstacle to my success, but rather as an extension of him. My father wanted to break the chain between his past and his identity so that he wouldn’t become an anchor for my dreams and prevent the world from seeing me as more than my relationship to him. But as his daughter, I refused to let that relationship fall apart.

Today, my father not only fears for his own safety, but for mine as well.

“You have to be aware of your surroundings at all times. You’re darker than your siblings. You look the most like me, therefore you’re more vulnerable to profiling and the experiences I’ve had. Be careful where you decide to go now and only go if you have to,” my father advises me.

The ICE raids closed the gap between my upbringing and my father’s. Skin color again matters most to Latinos.

According to a 2021 survey by the Pew Research Center, 57% of Hispanic adults say skin color affected their daily experiences “a lot”, with 62% reporting that their darker skin hinders their ability to prosper. In his concurring opinion on Noem v. Vasquez PerdomoSuperior Court Judge Brett Cavanaugh noted that race-based stops are part of immigration policing and can be valid based on certain factors: that there are large numbers of “illegal immigrants in the Los Angeles area; that these individuals tend to congregate in certain locations to seek day jobs”; that they often work in jobs such as “landscaping, agriculture and construction”. Many legal scholars argue that Cavanaugh’s opinion effectively allowing racial profiling by immigration agents. In September, the Department of Homeland Security announced that 2 million “illegal aliens” had left The US, with 1.6 million who have “voluntarily self-deports” and more than 400,000 deportations.

As society continues to demonize men in our communities, we daughters must stand up and correct the narrative.

In the past, merging worked. c 1968we removed the barriers to education with Chicano Blowoutswhen 15,000 students walked out of their classrooms to protest the discouragement and unequal treatment of Mexican Americans in education. In the 1970s, the Brown Berets fought disproportionate numbers of Mexicans in the Vietnam War with Chicano Moratorium, and in the 90s, we catalyzed the repeal of anti-immigrant Proposition 187.

Every moment of the Chicano victory was achieved with joined hands and shared minds, proving that the flame for change is best ignited by numbers. This is something my father taught me, too: Even in the waxing and waning cycles of life, when everything seems dim, pain becomes a starlight. And from this constellation begins to form a map ahead.

This commentary is adapted from an essay created for Plinth Public Square.

This article was originally published on CalMatters and is republished under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-No Derivatives license.