The Conflicted Life of a Japarican Teen

MIXED ASIAN MEDIA - SEPTEMBER 13, 2021

By Avelina Sanchez

When I was 5, I wore a kimono to school. In my predominantly white neighborhood, you don’t often see a little kid randomly walking around in a kimono. But it wasn’t random. It was during the Japanese holiday Girls’ Day, and I insisted on wearing a kimono and bringing Japanese gummies to my class so my friends and teachers would know about it. That started a tradition, and every year on March 3rd, I’d come to my elementary school in a kimono and let all of my friends know why.

I’ve always been proud of my Japanese American-Puerto Rican heritage. I was intrigued by the stories of my great-grandfather immigrating from Japan to America, then being incarcerated in the World War II concentration camps. I loved that my bedtime stories were filled with Japanese folk tales. I was also captivated hearing my father’s childhood stories of visiting his grandmother on a farm in Puerto Rico, where they had to pee in outhouses and kill chickens by hand for dinner. My father’s father was a famous singer in Puerto Rico. I’ve always felt proud that I could listen to his songs on old records.

It goes without saying that my two cultures are completely different from each other. When dinner is brought to the table, my mother would tell me, “Let everyone else take the food first. It’s the Japanese thing to do.” While my father would say, “Puerto Ricans always take the food right away because it’s polite to show how much you want to eat it.” This is one example of the many interesting lessons on manners my parents would teach me, growing up.

My life has been a constant tug between both halves of me. Sometimes my “Japanese side” (as my parents called it) would take over, and I’d act quiet and shy. Just as often, my “Puerto Rican side” would show, and I would wear colorful ruffled dresses, cover my lips with red lipstick, and shake my hips to loud music. Obviously, these are total stereotypes of my cultures, but the fact that the stereotypes are based on a nugget of truth have always been an inside joke in my family. It’s a miracle that both completely different cultures exist in, and are expressed through one little girl.

I was 11 when I started to realize that the identity living so strongly inside of me, isn’t always seen by others. When I started to meet new people in the sixth grade, they’d all ask me, “Where are you from?” The question always frustrated me because when I answered “New York,” I knew that wasn’t the response they were looking for. When I would finally tell them what my heritage is, I would be met with shocked expressions, and exclamations, of how they never would’ve guessed. Then they’d feel the need to share what they had guessed, which ranged from Chinese to Mexican, and was always incorrect. I had genuinely thought that people had gotten past making these kinds of assumptions, but I guess I was wrong. I knew that most people don’t know I’m Japanese American and Puerto Rican just by looking at me, so I worked hard to tell as many people in my school as possible.

In eighth grade I took a Spanish class, and it was split into two groups: native Spanish speakers, and non-native speakers. One day my teacher went around the classroom and asked all the Hispanic students how a certain word was said in their country of origin, to show how it differed across different Spanish-speaking countries. When she called on me, I was the only one who couldn’t tell her the answer... because I don’t speak Spanish. It confused me why my teacher assumed that because I’m Latina I could speak Spanish — and that the fact that I couldn’t made me a disappointment. Another time, I was in a math class with only two other Asian American kids. One of them mentioned that he was Asian, and a girl who sat across from me high-fived him and said she was, too. I, however, just sat there ignored, wondering whether they knew that I was also Asian, and whether I was Asian enough to be welcomed into the club. I always feel like there are these rules that society has made up on how to be Asian or how to be Hispanic. How people perceive my race depends on what I do or look like. But my race is a part of my identity, passed down through my family, and I am defined by it, no matter what language I speak or what features I have. Isn’t it about time for society to discover that everyone is different?

The feeling of not being enough only increased in high school. Yet again, I had to go through the “where are you from” process, and explain my surprising mix of nationalities to everyone I met. Sometimes I even felt like I had to show only certain parts of myself, depending on who I spent time with. When I was with my Asian American friends, I talked about being Asian American, not mentioning that I am also Latina, yet still wondering whether they knew I was both. Vice versa when I was around my Hispanic friends.

My name is Avelina Kiyome Sanchez. My first name comes from my great-grandmother on my father’s side, and my middle name is from my great-grandmother on my mother’s side. However, no one knows my middle name, so having an entirely Puerto Rican name and having mainly Puerto Rican features and coloring often made me self-conscious and worried that no one would know I was Japanese American too. Although I always feel conflicted by my two races, struggling to find a community where I can be entirely myself and feel enough, I would never wish for a different identity. Finding my identity is a life-long journey. I’m still obsessed with hearing my parents tell family stories, celebrating the holidays that are unique to my cultures, and being able to relate (on some level) to multiple groups of people. I’ll always know deep down that I am entirely both Japanese American and Puerto Rican. I am Japarican, a unique mix of two completely opposite cultures that have come together to create the crazy teenage girl that is me.

Avelina Sanchez is a proud Japarican (Japanese American/Puerto Rican) actor, singer, dancer, activist, and math major from NYC. She is a senior at the High School for Math Science and Engineering at City College. Some performance credits include Louise in the off-Broadway production of The Little Dancer at Theatre 71, and Keiko in Corner of Bitter and Sweet, the new musical adaptation of Jamie Ford’s novel. Avelina has struggled with her mixed-race identity throughout her life, and created her blog 100% Mixed to build a community and amplify the voices of mixed-race youth. She is also an avid reader and writer, music listener, and cat person. Follow her @AvelinaKSanchez, and her blog @100percent_mixed and 100percentmixed.com.