Ego and Identity as a Latinx Woman

By Darby Charest

She/Her/Hers | Redmond, WA

Intrinsic struggle is an essential element to human experience. Often, a battle of ego and superego entangled in aspects of identity. Identity itself is multidimensional rather than categorical or absolute. Yet, I have struggled with perceptions of self and how others perceive my identity. Often, ideas of stereotypes and assumptions of what an identity should “look-like” leave questioning my identity. Specifically, I have struggled with my connection to my ethnicity as Latinx.

When it comes to my ethnicity, I truly struggle to find acceptance or a state of belonging.

I am a mutt, yet my paternal ancestry is visibly dominant.

My paternal ancestry is a culmination of Eastern and Western Europeans, most notably Polish and French. Meanwhile, my maternal ancestry derives from El Salvador’s indigenous people. In fact, my mother immigrated to the U.S. whilst escaping a civil war in 1983.

Growing up, our household remained English speaking, and this later presented a limitation to converse with and feel connected to half of my family. I remember always holding a deep guilt that I could not truly connect with my maternal grandparents. I remember hearing my mother on the phone chatting away with my grandmother and if I wanted to say anything it had to be translated between the three of us. I remember looking into the mirror and comparing my image to my mother’s beautifully sun-kissed skin. There was a literal split in family proximity as well when my immediate family moved to Washington and left my maternal relatives in California. In many ways, I carry thoughts of not being Latinx enough, not dark enough, not bilingual enough; simply not enough to have access to my ethnic identity.

As I entered my teens, my guilt grew and I placed the responsibility on myself to access my ethnicity. Entering high school, I enrolled in Spanish class as key to accessing communication. Slowly, I felt closer with myself and my hopes to connect with my heritage grew. As my 15th birthday approached, I had a conversation with my mom about my identity.

I explained my resentment of not learning Spanish sooner, the disconnect I felt internally with myself, and the lack of access I had with my family.

She sympathized with my feelings and made an effort to converse with me in Spanish around the house. Soon after this conversation, she told me about a cultural rite of passage that honored the transition of a child to adulthood. This is known as a quinceañera or la fiesta de quince años. Quinceañeras are not exclusively a Mexican tradition; rather this is a social event celebrated across Latin America. I felt that this event could honor my heritage. Even though it was selfish, I felt that it would allow me to feel established in my culture. The experience itself allowed me to engage with my maternal grandparents. I conversed with them in Spanish and presented the 15 candles ceremony in Spanish as well. In many ways, I held a sense of belonging in my ethnicity — I had access to my Latinx identity.

As I gained confidence in my identity as a Latinx, I spoke more often with my extended family, enjoyed my mother’s lessons in making Salvadoran cuisine, and had the opportunity to travel to Spain at 17. My adventures in Spain forced me to dig into my high school Spanish education. Rather than experiencing my previous pressures on myself to connect with my Latinx heritage, I had fun expressing myself and meeting new people through a mixture of Spanglish.

At this time, I finally felt connected with a facet of my multidimensional identity. I garnered a sense of belonging with my Latinx family. However, I continued to experience unwanted perceptions as I transitioned into college. In meeting new classmates and cultivating friendships, I would face a strange situation of discreditation. Friends would be baffled when we shared aspects of our identity.

Many times I would hear the same phrase: “you don’t look Latinx.”

Another new label I struggled with was “white-passing” which I often heard from Latinx friends. Suddenly, a group I yearned so long to be a part of was backhandedly invalidating my identity. What I heard them telling me was that I did not look “Latinx” enough and therefore was rejected.

Moving into my 20s, I realized that there are aspects of identity which are socialized and parts which are unchangeable. I started questioning what matters and what does not. I had previously allowed others to alter my perception of my ethnic identity after an intrinsic journey to make peace with my identity. I think part of the reason I attached myself so strongly to this facet of my identity was because I did not have any community groups to associate with in my childhood. I grew up without the community of religion or spirituality. So, I saw my heritage as an opportunity to engage with others in our shared ethnicity — to meet others with similar attitudes, beliefs, and values.

Returning to this perception of “white-passing,” I do understand the social privilege I hold in the U.S. based on the color of my skin.

I want to acknowledge my privilege as I have not faced discrimination or injustices relative to BIPOC communities. This article is not meant to overshadow a serious systemic issue of racism in the U.S.

With that being said, I realized that I had the privilege to let go of perceptions and assumptions regarding my ethnicity. Latinx people are often homogenized even though this group is an amalgamation of diverse and ever-changing peoples. While I cannot be a sole agent of change in stereotypes of Latinx complexion and appearance, I can be responsible for myself and my family.

To know oneself and further accept oneself returns to this ego-driven struggle.

As I am rather new to the teachings of Buddhism, I do understand that ego induces suffering. This can be said of my journey as my ego intersects with my identity. In reflecting on my identity and feelings of disconnect, I want to move away from my egocentric mentality towards the selflessness of non-ego. I still believe that identity is something to be celebrated, but I had to acknowledge my ego-driven sufferings before I could foster an attitude of acceptance.