The dangers of “Cuando me Conviene”
Trading Our Cultural Identity to Fit in Only Serves to Uphold White Supremacy
We’re all aware of the concept of culture shock. Stepping into a country can be as exhilarating as it is overwhelming. I learned this firsthand, when at 27, I moved to Boulder, Colorado from my home in Puerto Rico to live my American Dream. When I arrived in the United States, I expected culture shock in obvious ways—new foods, languages, smells, and social customs. However, the most jarring aspect of life in the States was something I could have never foreseen from Puerto Rico: an overwhelming national obsession with race.
In the United States, I quickly noticed that people were fixated on the idea of classifying one another as either Black or White. These racial categories held social significance and it seemed important that everyone understand what category they—and everyone around them—fell into. As an island formerly colonized by both the Spanish and the Americans, Puerto Rico isn’t a stranger to racism and colorism (the concept that lighter-skinned people are superior to those with darker skin.) Yet, until I moved to Colorado, I hadn’t experienced racism in such a divisive way. In Puerto Rico, racial categories didn’t hold quite as much weight, as there was a general understanding that we were all of mixed ancestry. I was aware of the Eurocentric views we’d adopted, but I had never before felt forced to categorize myself or those around me into such clearly separated groups.
That first year, I encountered a million microaggressions. At the university, there was a student who touched my hair in class, loudly declaring that I “must have gotten the right amount of Black” because my hair is “so beautiful.” Comments like these left me feeling hurt and angry, but I didn’t have the words or cultural understanding to respond. What should I say to such a racist and AntiBlack comment? How should I respond, if at all? What would be appropriate in this new situation?
Unsure of how to proceed, I found myself assimilating. I lowered my voice, straightened my naturally thick and curly hair, always introduced my partners as friends, stayed out of the sun to avoid any conversations resulting in the well known “but no, where are you REALLY from?” question, learned to code-switch, and dulled my bright personality. For years, my assimilation felt like a prerequisite for survival. In every situation, I asked myself, “Do I need to present differently here to avoid ridicule? To be taken seriously? To side step racist comments?” That applied to work, university classrooms, and social settings.
In Spanish, we have a saying, “cuando me conviene,” which translates to “when it benefits me.” In my first few years in the United States, I’d hidden my identity when it convenienced me, not yet aware of the damage I was causing. My ancestors are of Spanish, enslaved African, and Indigenous Taíno heritage, and it took me years to understand that my choice to assimilate perpetuated White supremacy and Anti-Blackness in my own Latinae community. As a light-skinned Latinae woman, I’d had the option to pass as White.
My experience is one chapter of a long and upsetting book. White folx have used policies and laws to force Brown folx to move towards a proximity to whiteness, to choose White over Black no matter the cost. Throughout the history of colonization in Latin America, White people found ways to continue perpetuating white supremacy, upholding their power and forced Latinos to do the same. In the years immediately following the resolution of slavery in the Carribbean, White folx worked to retain the power they’d held over the enslaved Black community. They achieved this by creating new laws, including allowing Latinx folx to identify as White on the census. Anyone who identified as White instead of multiracial or Black on the census found themselves offered more privileges, such as access to better schools, jobs, housing, and care. People understood that—in this new society—“White was right” and identifying as Black (or anything outside of White) would have damaging consequences.
While my choices were based on survival and self-protection, they still uplifted dangerous ideas. I could blend in, passing in a way that darker-skinned Afro-Latinae individuals never could. My choices around assimilating left Black Latinae people to fend for themselves, stuck in the place of perpetual “other.” Additionally, “cuando me conviene'' is dangerous when we as Lainae folx toggle back and forth between passing as white and claiming our brownness when convenient. When White people are being racist, we claim not to be white, when whiteness provides certain privileges to folx who aren't Black, we claim Whiteness. This dangerous back and forth perpetuates AntiBlackness and puts our Black communities in danger. We as Lartinae folx have a responsibility to be not just allies but co-conspirators in the fight towards a world against AntiBlackness.
Racially, it took a few years for me to find my way in the United States. I started reading new texts and understanding the issues caused by passing. This knowledge sparked a sort of personal rebirth, freeing me to reclaim myself and my culture. After that, I knew that I wanted to support as many members of my Latinae community as possible to avoid adding to the illusion of White supremacy and going through the same horrible tug-of-war between who they are and who they feel pressured to be.
This is what makes the work I do now, as the founder of SimplyLead, LLC, so important. We’ve designed an organization with a strong focus on extending equity and combating racism through education and ongoing support. In educational spaces and professional organizations, we help teams recognize existing inequalities and lead them through implementing new, inclusive processes. As Latinae people, our role in America’s race relations may not be easy to confront, but it is worth understanding. Those of us with lighter skin cannot continue to play down our identities in situations of “cuando me conviene”—it’s not fair to us or our Black community. Through my work at SimplyLead, I want to provide a place where others in the community can reach out and learn more about our history in this country, our role in the current state of race relations, and our ability to help dismantle various forms of racism while we are here. And of course, I want to remind others of the power in celebrating their culture, empowering people to feel comfortable being who they are and not feel the same pressure I did to assimilate.
