In many cases, Latin Americans, as soon as they leave their origin country and find themselves abroad, they start to regard each other as ‘brothers’ or ‘sisters’. A somehow inexplicable bond forms where two people that may have loathed each other due to their nationalities back home may find only solidarity between them while living abroad. While back home there could have been regional or national identity distinctions that marked clear separations between people, those differences become irrelevant – or not as relevant- as soon as you leave Latin America. It is common to catch two Latin Americans from two different countries feeling like they have a common background and a pre-established bond even if they have never even been in each other’s country. Many note that talking to another Latin American abroad feels like finding a piece of home. To some extent, this has been my experience meeting SEDOAC’s women. They have made me feel truly welcomed in the workshop and events I have attended. Even though I have never been in most of their countries, talking to them feels very familiar in many ways. However, it is naïve and erroneous to believe that just because we have recrafted a ‘Latino’ identity abroad our experiences are universal. I may be a Latin American, a woman, and I myself have been living outside my home country for nine years, but our migration experiences diverge greatly. I am fully aware how my accent in Spanish, my modes of discourse, and general way of carrying myself can be perceived by other Latin Americans. Generally, even though we are speaking the same language, if they perceive that your accent signals privilege, they can immediately perceive you as suspicious or not trust your intentions. Even though I have not felt this is the case in SEDOAC, it still makes me anxious because I don’t want them to generate a preconceived idea of my identity or my walk of life.
For these reasons, I feel a tension between on the one side, showing solidarity and wanting to offer all my help, and on the other side, coming off as presuming that I understand their struggles. By interviewing a domestic worker in New York I became keenly aware of my positionality. I thought I would hear her say that she had experienced discrimination in New York due to her physiognomy and her Spanish, just as I have. Instead she said she loved living in New York because there ‘everyone is equal’, whereas in Colombia some people believe they are ‘so much better than others’. Although her opinion may not be representative of the Latino population in New York, it made it clear to me that what has shocked me as a ‘Latina’ living abroad is deeply rooted in the privilege I experienced back home. Thus here I worry that our sense of self and group identity may sometimes clash. This realization made me arrive in Spain with caution, never wanting to assume what they are thinking, what they need, or what they have felt. In other words, I have been trying to pay full attention to what they are saying and expressing in order to understand the best way I can be of use.
In another vein, my positionality has also informed how I have experienced the neighborhood, city, and country. Shortly after arriving here I began pondering about the use of public space in Madrid. The city has a perplexing combination of vibrancy and tranquility. The peacefulness that one can feel in the street is exemplified by the view of children playing freely without any concern about the people that are surrounding them. In every plaza there are adolescents sitting, enjoying the sun, and talking amongst themselves. I couldn’t help but note that this ease and lack of preoccupation is a sign of privilege. In some Latin American contexts, high crime rates, gender violence, and even in some cases extortion tactics, do not allow many to use public spaces. At least without some level of fear. I wonder how different many childhoods could have been, and how one’s relationship with the city and its inhabitants could have been, if one would have had the luxury of safely using public spaces.
On the other side, even though my appearance may not immediately disclose that I am Latin American, my accent completely gives away my origins. I sometimes feel a tension when I am interacting with Spaniards here in Madrid and I become very self-conscious about my heavy Colombian accent. While talking to other Latin Americans that have studied here they have told me that they share this feeling and that they feel there is a line traced between Spanish people and foreigners. These past two weeks I have not ended one day without at some point interacting with a Latin American, either fortuitously in the street or during some economic transaction. My general sense is that Madrileños feel that ‘we are too many here’ and that feeling sometimes sees itself reflected in their interactions with Latinos. More broadly, there is a pubic discourse about strong Iberoamerican cultural affinity, but that discourse does not seem to showcase the clear social distance between Spaniards and Latinos.
You have described a very complex weave of identities, which, I imagine, not only causes some anxiety, but also forces you to code switch depending on the person with whom you are interacting. I wonder, for example, if you try to amplify your privilege and education when speaking to self-identified Spaniards (to mitigate any perceived anti-Latinx prejudice), and de-emphasize it when interacting with your partners at SEDOAC to create a space for solidarity. I know this is true for me and it often reveals a lot about the assumptions– positive, negative, and neutral–that I make about other people. Being mindful of one’s positionality at all times is tricky and tiring, but it is so essential for engaged research because it reminds us of the richness and contradiction of all human experiences. Often our assumptions are really off. Sometimes the best approach is to view everyone you meet as a teacher. Some of what you’ve written reminds me of Shanti’s post for the same assignment. Check it out!