Danielle Guardado
San Francisco, CA
“What are you?”
A simple question; yet, I had no answer.
Every time I am asked this question, my response is always different and trying to explain to people that there are other countries in Latin America besides Mexico– “Wait. Where’s Nica-how do you pronounce that again?” –can get quite frustrating.
Why are you so curious?
My race does not define me.
I am Nicaraguan.
I am Guatemalan.
And I am proud.
But don’t ask me “What are you?” without expecting me to get annoyed.
I am like you – except my skin is a little darker and my hair is a lot curlier.
How would you feel if you were constantly asked this question? And how would you feel if people suddenly started treating you different because of the response you give?
At home, I am me; Danielle. No questions are ever asked.
Why can’t that ever be enough everywhere else I go?
