Hispanic Fanatic

Recently, I wrote about the arrest of Henry Louis Gates, an incident that has resuscitated the issue of racial profiling. In that post, I said that I’ve had run-ins with the police, but they’ve been rare.

What I didn’t mention is that non-authority figures – like storeowners, next-door neighbors, fellow riders on the subway, and the like – also engage in racial profiling from time to time.

I was reminded of this last week when I stopped in a new wine shop that recently opened in my neighborhood. I thought it would be a good idea to support the local merchant (plus, I really like wine).

The only other person in the shop was the white, middle-aged woman behind the counter. I browsed under her suspicious glare for a moment before spotting the open bottle of red before her.

As you may know, many wine shops have free tastings to encourage people to buy. It was the standard set-up, complete with little plastic cups, so I asked, “Are you having a tasting?”

“No,” the woman said.

Then she grabbed the bottle and put it under the counter.

Now, this was odd. In fact, I could think of only three reasons why she would hide the wine from me.

• The bottle was hers, and she gotten sloppy in concealing her day drinking. Naturally, stealing from the inventory and getting blitzed on the job is something you want to keep from the customers.
• The bottle materialized from another dimension in some kind of time-space anomaly. The woman, an amateur scientist, recognized the cosmological implications, and instead of calling Stephen Hawking at once, she hid the bottle rather than acknowledge the frightening paradox that its existence posed.
• The bottle was for a tasting. But she just didn’t like me.

I couldn’t decide which of these scenarios was true. So I just nodded and left. And of course, I didn’t buy anything.

Now, the shop is a brand-new establishment, locally owned and without the benefits of major corporate sponsorship. It is no doubt heavily in debt from start-up costs, and it has opened in the midst of a devastating recession. And it was not exactly crawling with customers. So why would an employee take even the slightest chance on offending one of the few people who walked through the doors (a person who was, until the moment of refusal, ready to buy something)?

Well, if it wasn’t scenario one or two, above, I can only figure that the woman thought, “We may be on the verge of financial ruin, but damn it, if we let in browsing Latinos (unemployed ones at that!), it will just be a matter of time before all kinds of riff-raff are shoplifting Chardonnays.”

No, you can’t be too careful.

I’m continuing my recent trend of highlighting news stories that haven’t gotten enough publicity.

So let me tell you about the Mira family of Minnesota, who come from my family’s homeland of El Salvador. They crossed into America illegally to flee MS-13, which is a homicidal gang of heavily tattooed thugs who run wild in that nation.

The Miras say that deporting them is a death sentence, because MS-13 members will kill them upon arrival. So they’ve applied for political asylum. The case has been appealed to the U.S. Supreme Court. Any ruling could have a major effect upon immigration law.

Now, we can argue whether their plight rises to the level of granting political asylum. I think it does, but perhaps a lawyer or sane conservative would like to educate me why it doesn’t.

However, I imagine the common rejoinder is “They came here illegally, so it doesn’t matter if we send them back and they get killed.” That argument, often made by people who consider themselves pro-life, only showcases the level of hostility and irrationality that the immigration debate brings out.

In any case, maybe it will work out for the Miras. Or maybe we’ll just send them packing because we can.

Ultimately, it was pretty anticlimactic. As we all know, Sonia Sotomayor was confirmed this week as the latest Supreme Court Justice. She took the oath of office today.

She is the first Latina on the court, of course, and her success can’t help but be an inspiration to Hispanics, even to surly bloggers who think they’re above it all (ahem…).

Sotomayor was confirmed by a 68-31 vote, with all the Democrats and nine Republicans voting for her. That means about three-quarters of the GOP Senators said, “Never mind the uplifting story and impressive qualifications, I’m terrified she’s going to rule that we all have to speak Spanish.”

The newest justice will have plenty of time to prove whether she’s an intellectual jurist who exercises solid judgment, or if she’s a crazed left-wing agitator who empathizes all over the place.

Sane people should have little trouble guessing where she’ll land on that continuum.

As I mentioned earlier, my move to California is taking up a lot of my time, forcing me to concentrate on short posts and quick observations – rather than the lengthy, behemoth-like diatribes that I prefer. Also, my schedule for posts will also be irregular, at least for the time being.

But this lifestyle upheaval is better than my previous excuse for neglecting the blog, which was that eye surgery left me afflicted with double-vision (that’s finally cleared up, by the way).

In any case, I see this as an opportunity to direct you to news stories that I may have otherwise overlooked in my mad rush to publicize, well, myself.

So I draw your attention to the plight of Daniel Guadron, a teenager from New Jersey. He was a straight-A student in high school, where he was also a popular athlete.

Then about a year ago, U.S. immigration found out that his parents were in the country illegally. So they arrested him, although he had legal permission to work and study in America.

He was stuck in detention for seven months. He finally got out, after being charged with no crime, and managed to graduate with his high school class.

The kid has tenacity, obviously, but the issue goes beyond one unjustly persecuted Latino. Locking up Guadron for over half a year did nothing to make our borders more secure or save a citizen’s job or discourage illegals or advance any of the myriad rationales given for zero-tolerance policies on immigration.

In the end, nobody won, except maybe one determined Hispanic teenager who now has a hell of a story for his college-application essay.

And I say, good for him.

Let me thank Ashley and ColdSpaghetti for their comments on some of my recent posts.

Otherwise, it’s been kind of a glum week here at Hispanic Fanatic worldwide headquarters. Besides the stress of selling my house (see my earlier post), I was brought low when I foolishly read a newspaper.

I was checking out how the latest version of the war on terror is going when I noticed that we captured an American who fought with Al Qaeda. It isn’t too often that a real-life traitor is apprehended, so the story got my attention.

But I got queasy reading the article. Because just when I thought we had gotten over Jose Padilla, here comes Bryant Neal Vinas.

He is a Latino born in New York who, according to the L.A. Times, grew up in “working-class suburbs, where Elks Lodges mixed with taquerias.”

Perhaps that mixture didn’t work out so well, because Vinas has “admitted to meeting Al Qaeda chiefs and giving them information for a potential attack on New York” and has “fired rockets during a militant attack on a U.S. military base in Afghanistan.” Vinas has pleaded guilty to conspiracy to commit murder and to providing material support to a terrorist organization.

Now, as I’ve written before, Hispanics sometimes feel an irrational shame whenever a fellow Latino does something criminal, stupid, or vile. Reading about Vinas, I had to sigh and say, “Where’s John Walker Lindh when you need him?”

It’s not all bad news, however. A U.S. government official said that, when it comes to Al Qaeda, “Vinas’ background is clearly unusual. He stands out. A Latino American is an unusual profile.”

Well, at least it’s not common.

That’s something, isn’t it?

Of course, you’ve heard the saga of Henry Louis Gates, the Harvard professor who was arrested in his own house for (depending upon your perspective) either

• Being black
• Being belligerent

I’ve never experienced Gates’ degree of police-sanctioned drama. Of course, like most males who are ethnic minorities, I’ve had some uncomfortable interactions with cops (go ahead, ask your minority friends; most of them will have a story or two). However, none of these scraps have risen above slight inconvenience or principled annoyance.

And I’m not in a hurry to condemn President Obama, although he clearly developed a chip in his legendary cool when he said that the cops “acted stupidly.” Let’s give him a break on that one.

At the very least, however, we can agree that an enormous misunderstanding took place in Cambridge, and that this communication breakdown had a lot to do with race. After all, it’s very unlikely that a white officer and a white homeowner would have such mutually high levels of distrust and suspicion that this scene could be replicated with Caucasians all around:

As I said, my negative experiences with cops have been limited to the occasional unprovoked traffic stop or snide question. I’ve certainly never been handcuffed in my own home by a gun-toting officer. But if I were in Gates’ position, where a cop busted in and accused me of burglarizing my own place, I would have an automatic out that the professor clearly does not.

“Don’t shoot,” I could say. “I’m actually Italian.”

It would probably work.

As I mentioned in my previous post, my updates to the site may become more infrequent due to my upcoming move to California. It’s a lame excuse but a sincere one. So until I can be throughly witty, I’m going with short missives and videos, which is the blogger’s version of cutting and running.

Here is a clip of Stephen Colbert discussing Sonia Sotomayor’s confirmation hearing. It’s for everybody who thinks “neutral” is somehow equivalent with “white.”

And while we’re at it, check out the discussion at Stuff White People Do about this clip.

[vodpod id=ExternalVideo.852973&w=425&h=350&fv=autoPlay%3Dfalse]

Ever since I stared this blog, about a year and half ago, I have chronicled the Latino experience, with an emphasis on what it means to be Hispanic in the American heartland. Well, there’s going to be a slight change soon.

My wife and I are moving back to California in a few weeks. This means that I will go from being somewhat unique – brown skin in a sea of white – to being pretty damn common… at least in appearance.

The Latino population of the state I currently live in is less than 200,000 (about 5 percent). In California, it is 13 million (about 36 percent). That is, I suppose, a somewhat noticeable difference.

When I lived in Los Angeles, many people assumed that I had been born there or recently immigrated. I’m sure this will happen again, causing me to reflexively defend my Midwestern roots.

Still, on the plus side, once in California, I may be exposed to more interesting stories about Latino culture through daily interaction. Currently, the only times I hear about local Hispanics are if one of us has committed a grisly crime or via a feature article titled something like “Immigrants Bring Change to South Side.”

One of the negative aspects of moving, however, is that my blog updates may become more sporadic, at least in the short term. This is due to the complexities of selling a house (in a down market no less) packing up all our meager possessions, and driving across the country with a perplexed dog and an agitated cat. You try being insightful twice a week under such conditions… sorry, I’m getting a little defensive in advance.

In any case, I will miss the Midwest. But I’m happy to be returning to the West Coast.

And rest assured, once I’m there, I’ll begin looking for investors who want in on “Hispanic Fanatic: The Movie.” I see Gael Garcia Bernal in the lead role.

Let me thank Macon D, Profe, Xey, Mimpiku, and Carolina, all of whom have recently commented on some of my posts. I also want to acknowledge Che, who disagreed with several of my posts (I assume he recently found the blog and read a bunch of pieces at once). But he kept the tone respectful. I thank him for that and for contributing to the site.

But others do not share the approach of these readers. Some people are determined to prove that the internet is where hate-filled wackjobs spew vitriol that they would never even whisper if they could be identified.

Specifically a reader, whose name I don’t want to publicize, responded to my post “The Most Perverse Kind of Pride.” The piece was about Hispanic gang members who targeted African Americans.

Rather than condemn the actions of the gang members, this reader praised them. The reason he endorses murder is because he hates blacks more than he does Hispanics. And yes, the n-word was unapologetically placed front and center in his tirade.

I have deleted his comment and, in a first for the Fanatic, banned him from the site.

I hesitated to give the idiot even this level of attention. But I decided to write about it just to point out that – despite the wishes, pleas, and outright demands of many people – we do not live in a postracial, harmonious world where ethnicity no longer matters.

There’s still a little way to go.

A few months ago, I was caught up in the Facebook craze of “25 Random Things About Me.” Before you judge, let me point out that at least I’m holding out on joining “Mafia Wars.”

In any case, one of my random facts was the revelation that getting milk on my skin creeps me out. This is what I wrote:

“The sensation and smell of milk on my skin is one of the most repulsive things in the world to me. Whenever I handle the liquid, which isn’t often, I treat it like explosive nitroglycerin.”

My squeamishness toward milk is not, I believe, related to the fact that I’m lactose intolerant. If it were, most of the people in my family – and indeed, most Hispanics – would share my revulsion at the liquid. I’ve heard Asians have similar problems. And it’s not uncommon among African Americans.

In fact, pretty much the only individuals who are really designed for the substance are of European (specifically Scandinavian) descent. This seems to surprise many people.

The myth that milk is good for everybody was propagated by those ubiquitous “Got Milk?” ads, which I don’t believe featured a single Hispanic. This was not due to the nefarious racism of the dairy industry. Rather, it was the simple acknowledgement that, once past childhood, most Latinos have to watch their intake of ice cream, mac-n-cheese, and the like. Failure to do so can lead to, shall we say, explosive results.

It was comical growing up lactose intolerant in America’s Dairyland. It’s like living in Vegas and hating gambling, or moving to Cooperstown and despising baseball. Perhaps the realization that my physical condition was an instant metaphor helped me to develop my love of bitter irony.

Speaking of ironic (or just as random as the original twenty-five Facebook facts), I have to point out that I love cheese. It may be my favorite food.

What’s that all about?