Parts is Parts

My dad used to always say "parts is parts," and I never got it. I think I may have finally figured it out.

In response to this post, Summer asked me: "So what is your heritage anyway?"

People have asked me this all my life. I used to BS my way through an answer, saying "well, I'm part this, part that, part the other thing." But there was something in the news a few months ago that made me begin to answer this question differently.

In an issue of Para Todos ("For Everyone") magazine, actress Jessica Alba was questioned about her heritage. Her answer was, "I had a very American upbringing, I feel American, and I don't speak Spanish. So, to say that I'm a Latin actress, OK, but it's not fitting; it would be insincere." When questioned about this by irate Hispanic and Latino people, she expounded on that by saying this: "Alba is my last name and I’m proud of that. But that’s it. My grandparents were born in California, the same as my parents, and though I may be proud of my last name, I’m American. Throughout my whole life, I’ve never felt connected to one particular race or heritage, nor did I feel accepted by any. If you break it down, I’m less Latina than Cameron Diaz, whose father is Cuban. But people don’t call her Latina because she’s blonde.”

That didn't help matters. Millions of people turned against her, believing she was rejecting her heritage, and rejecting them by extension. They completely missed the point. For one thing they seemed to expect her to ignore the existence of her French / Danish mother. But mainly the point is that she's an American, pure and simple, and wants to be considered such, and not be labeled with a word that indicates she is from another country or strongly associates with a foreign culture. While her controversial statements made her a lot of enemies elsewhere, I found it very inspirational.

I'm not talking about immigration or racism or even patriotism here, I'm talking about the American problem of identity. Other countries have well defined, old and respected cultures. When we think of France we think of wine and berets and glamorous dark haired women with long cigarettes. When we think of Italy we think of devastatingly handsome men, pasta, and vineyards. When we think of Mexico it's sombreros, trumpets, and tortillas. Scotland has kilts, Russia has furry hats, Japan has kimonos, Ireland has Michael Flatley. What do we have in America? Hot dogs? Chia pets?

And so we go digging for our roots, to try to find all of the little bits and pieces that came together down the line to manifest themselves in us. And sometimes we take it a tad too far.

Yesterday on the radio, the morning DJs asked listeners to call in and say if they were related to someone famous. One lady called in and said that they'd had their lineage traced back to Scottish hero William Wallace, who lived about 700 years ago. You know, Braveheart. Even though much closer and more recent ties were found to other nations, this woman's son decided that he was Scottish and began wearing kilts. He even wore one to his graduation ceremony.

I understand that our bland, pasteurized processed homogenized culture here in the U.S. leads many of us to long for some more specific, more flavorful identity. But I think some people take that a tad too far.

And so a few months ago, after reading about the Jessica Alba interview, I decided I wasn't going to answer this question anymore. Not only do I not entirely know the answer to any degree of certainty, it simply doesn't matter. I'm an American, have only ever been an American, have no relatives I'm aware of that have been anything other than American. If I were, say, part Dutch, would I start wearing wooden clogs? If I were part French, would I start smoking? If I were part Native, would I braid my hair and stick feathers in it? Absolutely not. I would still be exactly who I am, who I have always been, a plain old boring American.

So there you have it, that's my heritage. Part apple filling, part pastry, with a nice fat scoop of a la mode.

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