I have always known that I was Mexican.

I knew I was Mexican because my family ate the basic food, like tacos, tamales, and carnitas. I knew I was Mexican because though I do not speak or understand much Spanish, it is the language of my parents and grandparents. And I knew I was Mexican because my family sometimes celebrated Mexican traditions such as Dia de Los Muertos.

I have always known that I am Mexican, but it wasn’t really something I thought about much until social media came into my life around fifth grade, when I was maybe eleven years old. Then, I started to have confusing doubts about my identity as Mexican, because of posts that I saw. I remember there was one post about celebrating National Hispanic Heritage Month. That’s when I first saw the terms Latino and Hispanic.

A little later, I was also confused in school. We learned that Latinos, Hispanics, and Mexicans were similar, but they were different in more ways than one. I remember asking myself, “What if I’m Hispanic? What if I’m Latino?” I wanted a bigger explanation about what all these terms meant.  I looked up the definition for Mexican. It stated someone being Mexican has to be a native or descendant from Mexico. Weirdly enough, for a moment I thought, “Oh, so I have to be born in Mexico to be Mexican:” but in reality, I knew I didn't have to be born there because most of my family was born in Mexico, like my dad, for instance. So, I’m a descendant from Mexico.

I also learned more about the terms Latino and Hispanic. Latinos or Latinas are people who are from, or have a background in, a Latin American country. Hispanics are people who are from, or descended from, a Spanish-speaking country. I decided that even though Mexican people can go by Latino or Hispanic, I choose to go by Mexican.

My understanding of this has gotten a little bit better, but learning about these different groups caused my feelings to be mixed all over the place. I remember feeling lost. I felt angry when I found out that there were other races or ethnic groups similar to Mexican because it had me question so many things about what I had thought about who I was. I didn't know what to call myself. I was confused about what kind of label to put myself under. But I realized it's alright to feel any kind of emotion when you are confused about who you are.

I learned that no matter how I felt about my identity, it would always be complicated. Over time, I came to realize that I was more than just one race. Since my dad is Mexican, and so is my mom, that makes me Mexican. But I was born in America, making me Mexican American. There are so many races or ethnic groups that are just overlapping labels–you can be Mexican American, but decide to go by the terms Latino(a), Hispanic or even Chicano(a). But whatever you, or I, want to go by is decided by where we came from, and it is decided by ourselves and nobody else.

After realizing that I am Mexican American, I'm happy that I found somewhat of a closure with my identity and with myself. Growing up, I only knew I was Mexican, but as time passed I came to realize a whole new part of me that was missing that I didn’t know I needed. I need to know about my race and heritage because that is what makes me me, and that's unique.

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