blog post 2

Los Intersticios: Recasting Moving Selves:

This chapter was particularly disturbing. I thought it was interesting that, although she is struggling with finding her true identity, grappling between Cuban and Iraqi, people are aiding in her confusing. In local areas, people come up to her and ask her ethnicity, and express their own personal confusion about her answer and her perceived outer appearance. Her factors that are confusing her and confuse many people in the United states is the conflict between their parents backgrounds, and the childrens' background. She is born in the United States, but her parents are not born there. I would ask the author why would her parents background effect her decisions. I would also ask what she would tell her children, and if she thinks that her kids will be conflicted by the same struggle. This shows me that there are people around the nation who struggle and fight with finding their identity.

ancestry

My ancestry is pretty straight forward, and easily understood. It starts off on my dad's side. His father emigrated from Russia to New York before World War Two fully began. My father's mother was born in the US and raised in West Virgina. My dad is first generation American and classifies himself as white. His father completely assimilated, adapting to the American life style, and becoming a dentist. My father never learned a bit of Russian. So, this leads me to be second generation American, on my dad's side. Since my grandfather assimilated so easily, and my Father never adapted any of my Grandfather's traditions, I do not really identify myself as Russian because that part of our culture was so quickly dropped.
On my mother's side of the family, the ancestry is a bit more interesting. Her grandmother emigrated from Poland to New York as well, avoiding the wrath of World War Two. Thus making my Grandfather first generation American, my mother second generation American, and me, Third generation American. Now, for my Grandmother, we have been in the US for five generation that it is impossible for us to trace back our linage. My mother believes we came from Hungary or Poland, but is not sure. I am proud to say that I am fifth generation American, which I believe is pretty cool.
If a census came around, I would have no problem checking off white, because I am, to the definition, white.