Coyote Calls - Blog Posts
I have tíos I never got to know. primos I never got to know. abuelos I never got to know. I have family that is mine, but is not mine. And I can’t dwell on it, or it’ll break me.
I think what makes learning Spanish so daunting is my fear of ineptitude. I’m so accustomed to being able to express myself fluently in English. It’s one of the things I’m known for among my friends and family. I have a reputation as a walking dictionary and with such a vast vocabulary at my disposal, I’m able to convey exactly what I mean with precision.
But in Spanish? I speak like a small child. And it makes me feel like the child my father never knew. I flounder about in his native language, mixing up tenses and accidentally using false cognates instead of the word I mean.
And, worse, it’s Spanish. Not Nahuatl. Only 10% of my ancestry on my father’s side is from Spain. The other 40% is Nahua, likely Tlaxcaltec.
also made these! I think I’m gonna modify the blue earrings by putting the beads on a wire hoop and hanging them on huggy hoop findings.
sometimes I’m sad that I don’t have any indigenous-made bead jewelry, and then I remember that I actually do own some. Because I made some. And I’m indigenous.
sometimes I’m sad that I don’t have any indigenous-made bead jewelry, and then I remember that I actually do own some. Because I made some. And I’m indigenous.
Personal Reconnecting Problems #1: I’m 40% indigenous Mexican, which makes up the largest percentage of ancestors I have from one specific area. I’m also 10% Spanish. I expected my genetic breakdown to be something like that, given that my father was a Mexican immigrant from Tlaxcala.
However!! I have no solid legal documentation of this, because my father ran out on me and my mother before I was born. I know absolutely nothing about him.
We’re not even sure that the name he gave my mother is truly his name, because he 1) was an illegal immigrant and 2) once told my mother that for $50 and a case of beer, one of his buddies could hook him up with a new identity.
So where does that leave me?
I have no way to trace my lineage. I have no way to contact my father and get the information I would need to trace my lineage because, despite knowing exactly where he lives, he only speaks Spanish and I only speak English.
today I learned that the Nahuatl word “coyotl” means simultaneously “coyote”, “yellow”, and “mixed race/mixed culture”