For the Sake of Argument, I Just Say I'm From Brooklyn
From Latino to Hispanic to Latina to Latinx, a brief history about how everyone else identifies our culture.
(Photo of me in Isabela, Puerto Rico under the Taino Chef Head on the side of the Highway)
Race and ethnicity - terms often used interchangeably and incorrectly - are two separate yet related things. When we talk about one, it is difficult not to speak of the other. If you are interracial - or like me, Hispanic•ish - you have confronted the ideas of race and ethnicity on every form, U.S Census, school admission and job application that has ever come across your desk.
The sheer panic of selecting the correct, small, blank box positioned next to words like “Non-Causcaian” and “Hispanic/or/Latino” or “Afro Latino” (that’s a new one) leaves me wondering about my culture and if I am disgracing the ancestors by marking the wrong box. To some, the box checking task is fairly easy: “White.” But for me, it feels like the weight of the Taino tribes and the African Slaves of Puerto Rico are sitting on my shoulders and starring at me with judgement because with every checkmark, I am possibly denying a part of my people. (I ask them for forgiveness, every time)
In 2020, the Associated Press Stylebook - the main reference book used as a grammar resource for media and writers everywhere - tweeted their current definitions of Latino and Hispanic and outlined the differences and how to use them. Let’s just say that opened the flood gates of Merengue hell with responding tweets questioning their reasoning, sources and inquiries about when to use Afro-Latinos and Latinx. Twitter is bold and the responders didn’t hold back by calling out the misinformation by the AP.
In the end, the tweet resolved nothing. People still don’t understand the difference between Latino/a and Hispanic, let alone the complexities of Latinx and Afro-Latino/a.
To be fair, whether we use Latino/a or Hispanic, the terms have been designated for my culture by the white culture and often those in academia. Grouping us together to make it easier to identify us, despite already having our own unique identities, terms like Hispanic are just another way of saying “I see you speak Spanish, so you must all come from the same place.”
A 2021 study conducted by the Pew Research Center, tried answering the question “Who is Hispanic?” by proposing a relatively simple research technique: pull the data from U.S Census. Those that say they are - well….they are. And those that say they are not - well…they are not. (In other words…leave it the confused millions of people who struggle with identity - like me - and are checking tiny boxes because they think its correct. If anyone knows who is Hispanic, it must be the Hispanics, right?!)
By this way of counting, the Census Bureau estimates there were roughly 62.1 million Hispanics in the United States as of 2020, making up 19% of the nation’s population…..Of the 42.7 million adults with Hispanic ancestry living in the U.S. in 2015, an estimated 5 million people, or 11%, said they do not identify as Hispanic or Latino, according to a Pew Research Center survey of U.S. adults.
This brings us back to the question: What is the difference between Hispanic and Latino/a people?
The terms “Hispanic” and “Latino” are pan-ethnic terms meant to describe – and summarize – the population of people living in the U.S. of that ethnic background. In practice, the Census Bureau most often uses the term “Hispanic,” while Pew Research Center uses the terms “Hispanic” and “Latino” interchangeably when describing this population.
Some have drawn sharp distinctions between these two terms, saying for example that Hispanics are people from Spain or from Spanish-speaking countries in Latin America (this excludes Brazil, where Portuguese is the official language), while Latinos are people from Latin America regardless of language (this includes Brazil but excludes Spain and Portugal). Despite this debate, the “Hispanic” and “Latino” labels are not universally embraced by the population that has been labeled, even as they are widely used.
So…according to the U.S Census, the Pew Research Center and the millions of Latin-based speakers, I should identify and check off the box next to the word “Latina”. But to quote Carla, the multiculturally mixed hair salon character in Lin-Manuel Miranda’s In the Heights musical:
“My mom is Dominican-Cuban
My dad is from Chile and P.R. which means:
I'm Chile-Domini-Curican...
But I always say I'm from Queens!”
With roots of Taino Natives mixed with the potential lines drawing back to India, and with a dark-skinned mom born - and semi-raised - on the gorgeous island of Puerto Rico and a dad born in New York to white-skinned Puerto Ricans from the island, I just say “I’m from Brooklyn.”
People always confuse race and ethnicity. I am a Caribbean American Black Woman. But like you, I just say I’m from Boston. Anything other than that is too much work.
Super interesting, Giselle. I've always felt anxiety about how to self-identify. Terms come in and out of favor, and I stress about using the "wrong" one. I embrace inclusivity and the evolution of language, but one thing I don't appreciate is someone not a part of the culture determining it for me: The first time I heard the term Latinx was when a white (non-hispanic/latina) woman used it to describe me.