“La gringa.” “La blanquita.” Si ustedes supieran que yo como plátanos asà como ustedes. Growing up, it wasn’t uncommon for people to assume I was white. Or in the case where they figured out I was hispanic, it was “Oh!, you’re Mexican?”  But, in my family I am the gringa.
The word gringo/a can be used in so many different ways. It can be used to broadly and inoffensively refer to a group of U.S citizens. In another context, you would call a person this if they didn’t speak spanish or aren’t in touch with their latino roots. The origin of the word is honestly hazy. There are so many different theories regarding where it came from. People believe  that it came from Mexican-American War in 1846. This is because American troops were dressed in green uniforms and were often told “green go home.” But, then there’s numbers of theories that point further back to the 17th and 18th centuries about the word being a Spanish (as in from Spain) derivative of “peregrino” or pilgrim, and of “griego,” from an expression of “it’s like you’re speaking Greek” or being misunderstood. In other words, this means the term  originally didn’t refer to people from the United States. Don’t get me wrong though, use it in the wrong context and this word can be offensive. As Coates pointed out in his article “In Defense of a Loaded Word”, it’s all about context and relationships.
At home, no one was fluent in english. This meant I had to learn english on my own because at 4 years old, I would be starting school. Thanks to Dora, her cousin Diego, Blue’s Clues, and Sesame Street, I learned the basics so I wasn’t completely lost at school. As I learned more in school, I started forgetting Spanish. I mean I was about 7 years old trying to balance two languages, gotta cut me some slack. As time went on, my spanish wasn’t the best. I was officially la gringa. Although my family didn’t mean it in an offensive way, it didn’t make me feel the best. I felt that calling me that, excluded me from the family or even the culture. I will admit that I don’t look like most Dominicans, more specifically the ones in my family. My skin complexion is much lighter, my hair doesn’t curl, and I don’t tan I get sunburned. But, I think my family sometimes forgets that I am mixed. My dad was Panamanian so there’s that.
Now, in Dominican Republic a foreigner is identified because of their behavior, dressing preference, and brands on their belongings. In D.R, there are even songs made about gringas, like about marrying one to get out of the country and live a better life. In D.R, more than one-fourth of the workforce is unemployed.  With basic services like electricity, water, and public transportation becoming so unreliable, living in the U.S is a luxurious life. Let’s not even start on the violence and corruption that lives in this country. To them, los gringos have it all. Although we may not have the same problems as them, the truth is most of us are miserable. Even with all of the economical problems and the violence, Dominicans are still full of life. A Dominican can be unemployed, living in un campo, and you’ll still see them posted up outside a bodega with a Presidente saying, “Hoy se bebé coño.” with a big ass smile on their face. In the U.S, depression is a big thing. Yeah, they might be jealous of our economical stature but I’m jealous of the cultural difference. Over there, everyone knows each other. While here in the U.S, half of us don’t even know our neighbors. Bottom line is, us gringos go through it too mi gente. We don’t have it all and we don’t live a perfect life either. It’s hard out here too.
