Change

In the last few years I have been doing a lot or reading and learning about issues of race and racism in our country.  I have worked on my own racial autobiography, which I continue to develop as my learning progresses.  I have been wanting a space to share my thoughts and my learning, as well as the application of these in my fifth grade classroom and my life.  Changing up the blog to write about all of this seemed like the natural thing to do.

I just finished reading the book, Let Justice Roll Down, by John M. Perkins.  I am now working on the book, Do All Lives Matter, by John M. Perkins and Wayne Gordon.  I already knew that issues of race and racism were interconnected with my Christian faith.  However, these books really explain that biblical connection between faith and eradicating racism.

To start this off, I thought I'd share part of my initial racial autobiography.  Here goes:

September 1, 2015

I was born in the Panama Canal Zone in 1971, a beautiful baby, the product of my two parents; a combination of many races and cultures.  My mother, Isabel, is Panamanian.  My dad, Bill, is from the United States. So what does this mean?

I can trace back my racial lineage to Spain by way of my maternal grandmother,  Livina Águila.  Once upon a time there was a contingent of Spanish Catholic missionaries that arrived in Cañazas, in the Province of Veraguas.  One of these missionaries was not so devout and thus the Águila branch of the family was born.  I understand there must have been a large number of Spanish that settled and populated this area because when my grandmother first went to the big city of Panama she was surprised by the racial diversity.  Apparently the population of Cañazas was fair skinned and had light colored eyes.  I have her hazel eyes.  So does my son, Samuel.

My paternal grandfather, Concepción (Concho) Ramos, was a self-described “mestizo” from Penonomé in the Province of Coclé.  He was born in 1896 when Panama was still considered part of Colombia.  He would tell my mom that he was part “Indio” and part “Cholo.”  He had very tight curly hair and dark brown skin.  He only finished elementary school, but was a carpenter and a master builder.  I visited one the churches he built and still have the dresser he made for me when I was born.  If only he had been afforded more educational opportunities, I wonder what he could have done? 

My maternal grandmother’s (Lola Stuewe) family came from German stock.  My paternal grandfather, Herbert Beatty, had British and Scottish blood.  Think Outlander by Diana Gabaldon.  Both my paternal grandparents while of different European cultural backgrounds were white. They struggled financially and sacrificed a lot to put their four children through college when they themselves did not have college educations.  My grandparents helped my dad with his undergrad degree in anthropology.  After finishing a stint in the military, getting married and becoming a father, my dad decided that he had better use the GI Bill for a degree that would be more financially rewarding than this one.  So, he went to law school. 

My mom grew up in Panama City, the “lighter skinned” of two sisters.  This was an issue that affected my Tía Minita throughout her life.  She had other struggles, but my mom’s lighter (not white, mind you) but lighter skin, was always an issue.  Minita was always referred to as the dark one and Isabel was the light one.   

I will digress for a moment to point out here that when I was in elementary school my idea of a beautiful girl was a blond with blue eyes.  I remember being in Texas with my dad’s family and being given the choice of two dolls:  the blond or the brunette.  I chose the blonde, named her Mary and she still lives with my parents.   My daughter is blondish and has blue eyes.  She epitomizes my early ideals of beauty, yet my girl doesn’t see it, which just blows my mind.  Physically, this child is everything I dreamt I could/should be.   She sees faults – but that digs deeper into what our society is doing to all of our girls. 

So, my parents were married in October 3 of 1970.  As I said earlier I was born on February 2, 1971.   I was not a preemie.  Yes, I figured this out at an early age and it was a topic NOT to be discussed at our house.  Though as I got older I did hear the story about Mami throwing her engagement ring down during a fight with her fiance, my dad.  She threw it inside the car and not outside the window. The ring could be recovered!  I am cognizant of the fact that if my parents had not married, my life would be so different.  My mom would probably have stayed in Panama.  Would she have married another American, or married at all?  Would I have learned English?  Where would I have gone to school? Would I have gone to college? Would I still live there now?

I wanted to be white growing up.  I noticed the financial advantages that came with that.  Though my Beatty grandparents struggled financially, as a child I was already able to see the fruit of their sacrifices in their children.  My dad and his siblings were all college educated and my uncles all had good jobs.   My Ramos grandparents lived in a humble home in a humble part of town.  I noticed this.  As a child, I attached this to color. At one point in my childhood  I remember not wanting contact with my abuelito because I thought his darkness was contagious.

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My children consider themselves white.  They are white.  Their dad is white, of Irish German descent.  That they have only recently started appreciating their own ethnic background. This is because we talk about it now.  When I had three kids in diapers my life was about survival, and in order to get through the day I had to let go a little bit of who I am.  It took more than I had in me to speak Spanish to them.   I own the responsibility in this loss, but I am trying to rectify it.  My kids fight me though.  English is easier.

When I worked on my first resume,  I started to really acknowledge and appreciate the stuff that makes me uniquely me.  I landed on this path because of my history.   I have Livina’s eyes and Lola’s nose.  There’s a hint of Concho Ramos curl in my hair.  ”  All of my grandparents were incredibly hard workers.  Had they not been, I would not be here.