Los saludamos de corazón | We greet you with our hearts

This week is the start of Hispanic Heritage Month, and it sparked a recent memory from Labor Day weekend. I was visiting mi mamá (my mother) in Kansas. My mom was born in a rural, Hispanic community in New Mexico and later grew up in Southern Colorado surrounded by family and friends who consistently supported each other through the ups and downs of life. Those Hispanic families were also interconnected back to the tribes of the Southwest and Central America. We grew up hearing variants on the words related to our identity - Hispano, Latino, Chicano, Mestizo, Mixed-Blood, Lobo, Coyote, etc. The language spoken was old style Spanish intermingled with Spanish-ized spellings of Native American words. My mother ultimately ended up marrying an Anglo man from a farming family in Kansas. At that time in the 1960's, that was considered pretty taboo, but my parents seemed courageous enough to follow through. Soon thereafter, my sister and I arrived. Their union was a blend of traditions, cultures and values that ultimately informed my own world view and identity. I would not say it was the easiest of paths, but it informs the work I am passionate about. Being a part of the complex nature of Hispanic identity has influenced me greatly.

It was an interesting time, growing up between multiple worlds. But somehow our parents made it work. They did a great job at teaching us to respect and be proud of all our roots, from the Great Plains to the Rocky Mountains and beyond. Now living alone in Kansas after the passing of my father, I have a mamá who is coming to terms with how she's often the only non-Anglo person around. She misses her roots and family ties in Southwest more deeply. Nearing the end of her time here, she speaks more often about navigating cultures and languages, and on how different she realizes it is where she lives now versus where she grew up. In many ways, she looks back with a heaviness about a lifetime spent bearing the burdens of fitting in to a dominant cultural paradigm while also being judged by those who refused to. She called it being resilient. And she seems quite weary.

I didn't quite understand what she meant, so I asked her to explain. She said, "Hispanic people, we greet you with our heart, and meet you at the heart. That's not been my experience in the mainstream." She then told me the story of the 100-pound sack of potatoes. As I've shared in earlier editions of De La Luz, my maternal grandfather José de la Luz Medina was a Presbyterian minister, married to my teacher grandmother. Both of them were bilingual, although their first language was Spanish. Both had Spaniards and Natives in their family tree. When mom was still very young, they moved from New Mexico to a small city in southern Colorado, surrounded by agriculture and mountains. Anglos owned much of those lands by then, and Hispanos worked the land. The move there meant my grandfather José would co-pastor at the church alongside an Anglo-American minister. About half of the staff salaries was provided by the national church organization and the rest was made up of contributions from the local congregation.

At that time, there was a decent blend of Hispanic and Anglo people regularly attending services. My mother said she remembers this very wealthy Anglo family would present her father, my grandfather, with a 100-pound sack of potatoes on a regular basis as part of their contribution to his salary. She thought this gift was out of kindness and gratitude.. Then one day, the other co-pastor left to return to divinity school. Almost immediately, that 100-pound sack of potatoes stopped coming, as did many other resources and gifts, as a very large majority of the church's non-Hispanic members left the church. It seemed those folks did not want to keep attending services led by a Hispanic man with a heavy Spanish accent. To my mom, who grew up learning the "familia" values of caring for one another and looking out for each other during times of hardship, no matter what, this was a rude awakening. Shortly thereafter, her own mother did everything in her power to ensure my mother and her three siblings spoke perfect English, excelled at educational attainment, and strongly discouraged her future grandchildren from being named anything in the Spanish language. She did not want anyone else to suffer or feel less than. Why did that have to be that way? At what cost? What did that do to their sense of identity and pride in who they were?

Native American, Hispanic/Latino and other co-called "minorities" share similar stories regarding economic trajectories throughout history. Many try to sustain ties back to traditional cultures, languages, and beliefs, despite excessive attempts to eradicate those ways. From the early interactions with the Anglo American-centric, social-political power structures, those not originally of those structures have been negatively viewed "too different" on account of looks, skin color, accents/language, ceremonies, customs, and mannerisms. Thus, it was/is no small act of bravery and courage to persist and continue to exist, all the while being questioned, doubted, or falsely viewed as inferior or incompetent. If not checked, the levels of self-doubt and the offloading of identity can fester and grow. Some will question their right to be in a space, whether to get an education, work a fulfilling job, or simply speak openly. For those who do try to reach their goals while staying connected to their familial and cultural identity, it is too often a precarious tightrope walk. I think that's what leads up to the idea of resilience, but it can also lead to the commodification of people and cultures at the cost of the deep, rich, and affirming reality of what our history, our stories, our experiences, etc. truly mean to our confidence, capabilities, and ultimately - our communities.

Another example is present in African American culture, especially during the Postbellum time period . Gospel, blues and jazz all became entertainment for the masses, despite these genres being born out of surviving enslavement and trying to hold onto a thread of cultural identity of African origins. Similar things happen to Latinos seeking to support their families and keep traditional recipes alive . Historically, and even yet today, these groups are "strongly encouraged" and outright told to stop believing in their ways if they want safety and prosperity. The twisted part is, the ones who didn't conform - who fought tirelessly to keep their identity, language and culture alive, are now being glorified for their 'resilience.' I would offer that resilience is not badge of honor to be worn for resistance against forces taking outright dominion over your people's lifeways and lands. More than anything, it is a indicator of what must be acknowledged, healed and made right.

Commodification of culture can be dangerous, because it too often turns sacred traditions, ceremonies, or even ancient recipes into ornamental 'flare' to be engaged with at a superficial, and completely optional level. Outsiders begin to enjoy those bits of fun as something whimsical to dabble in. They may start ignorantly incorporating aspects of cultures into their lives from an anthropological or collectors view, akin the concept behind keeping animals in a zoo for curiosity's sake. Perhaps it seems intriguing and different, but in this metaphor the animals at the zoo don't get to go home, and just "be" in their natural habitat, after visitors go home with a souvenir or a photo. The distance between the two circumstances is palpable and intentional, and lacking empathy. What happened? Where did the heart go? Why can't they meet you with the heart?

Throughout my time and my travels, I have come to the realization we sorely need advocates and activists who don't just put on a costume five days out of the week or twice a year to play while uttering a few cool catch phrases in the mother tongue. Keeping identity and culture alive is hard work, and takes knowing not only where you come from, but seeking knowledge and actively participating with consistency - especially when your people are not accepted as an easily desirable or digestible part of mainstream society. For me, starting a Indigenous/Latino business enterprise came down to building on an authentic base of cultural integrity, and holding a reverence for our relatives seeking to keep things alive and active. It strives to be a unique enterprise that offers representation and inclusion for the people we work with and the places they/we call home. This resonates most with dedicated, genuine people striving to live real, authentic lives through cultural lenses.

It is crucial to hold space for a diverse spectrum of people to have meaningful input and ownership over the dialogues and the conversations impacting their most dearly held places and spaces - the environment that surrounds us and reminds us we are valued and whole as culturally informed People. If we and other like-minded organizations don't do it, too few may take up the charge. Because if you wait for somebody to show up and bless you with a sliver of the abundance they possess, like family history has taught me, you may be waiting a long time. We must elevate and affirm people as identifiable, unique human beings in their communities living in their culture of choice without judgment or shame. We need each other, with hearts intact and knowledge of self. No longer must we wait for someone with a proverbial hundred-pound sack of potatoes to have heart enough to remain participatory in our survival or abundance. We are the ones we have been waiting for. Let's make our ancestors proud, and carry things forward in a good way.

?Feliz Mes de la Herencia Hispana y Latinx!

As a Founder and Design Professional, I am humbled and excited each day we wake up and continue the path ahead that has been illuminated for us.?Subscribe to the?De la?Luz?| Of the Light?newsletter ?for more updates and insights on topics related to cultural influences in design, community building, issues related to justice, equity, diversity and inclusion (JEDI), and lessons learned from a road less traveled at the nexus of nature, art, spirituality, and architecture. To learn more about what I am up to, please follow De La Luz | Of The Light on LinkedIn.