Yo soy Joaquín … Yo soy Courtney (I am Joaquín … I am Courtney)
As a child growing up in very white spaces, I often struggled with feeling enough, having to prove myself, or just wanting to fit in. I have moments that I look back on that I now recognize as microaggressions and biases from my teachers throughout elementary and high school that I’m still unpacking. Examples from something as trivial to my 5th-grade teacher giving out superlative awards to each of my peers based on their personality and strengths but having another brown girl and me in class tie for “best hair” to more profound examples such as my history teacher sophomore year nicknaming me “chola” in class and discussing my neighborhood in a wealthy California beach town as ghetto in front of my peers at a prestigious, private, parochial school that I commuted 45 minutes to attend every day. When I walked out of class and tried to talk to administrators about it, I was told I was being inappropriate and disrespectful to my teacher by stepping out of class. Or that same year, when Latinx students and I wore white in solidarity with the May walkouts in 2006, a group of boys decided to come to school wearing colors associated with a particular white supremacist group. They went down the halls saying “white power” to each other. The Latinx students and I were pulled into the admin office and told that we were causing the issue. We were told, “Don’t make trouble or you’ll face consequences”. The kids saying “white power” … no discussion was had with them.
I transferred to a public high school after that year, but not because of those instances. One of my first classes at the public high school was a Chicano Theater class, and on the first day of class, we read “I am Joaquín” by Rodolfo “Corky” Gonzales. This was one of the first times I emotionally connected with a piece of literature. I felt this sense of frustration that so much work had been done in the quest for belonging and opportunity, and yet, this sense of responsibility to continue the work. But also, let’s unpack that for a minute. I had the chance to take a Chicano Theater class. I was introduced to the works of Luis Valdez, how art could be a form of protest, and how storytelling could influence change. My fire for a better tomorrow and equity was lit.
I’m constantly struggling with my identity and wanting to be more confident in my own skin. Still, I’m also on a journey of releasing all the internalized baggage from experiences that created so much self-hate and feelings of unworthiness.
My self-identity is a constant evolution. I am working on recognizing how much I code switch or silence myself to make others feel more comfortable, especially when discussions certain topics, because as a child, the white world I was in told I needed to make myself smaller for the sake of others. It’s exhausting, and I no longer have the mental capacity to do it. I hurt for 15-year-old Courtney. I wish I could tell her that what she was experiencing was valid but not to internalize it because it was bigger than her. I wish I could say to her that when she graduated with her master’s, she’d be a 4.0 student, graduating with honors, and reclaimed her power in being called Chola as an insult by receiving her degree with “sCHOLAr” written on her cap, with the “CHOLA” in bold Old English. There is so much badass feminist history tied to culture - but I was never shown that in spaces that weren’t influenced by people who looked like me.
I am so incredibly grateful I transferred high schools and was in a space where I could see myself in my peers. I am thankful that I’ve been able to be challenged and grow through my academic access, my travels, living in various cities, and, most importantly, all the people I’ve met along the way. Transferring high schools didn’t stop my experiences of discrimination but helped me build positive experiences around my identity, empowering my sense of self.
I also recognize how much privilege I’ve been afforded in my life. But that’s where the intersectionality of identities is essential to remember. My identities hold both privilege and oppression. My Spanish isn’t perfect. I still struggle with feeling that I am not Latina enough or not “American” enough. However, I have broken barriers my ancestors fought hard for me to overcome. I am filled with the histories of both the colonizer and the colonized. I have the opportunity to push through more and to bring more people with me.
“La raza! Méjicano! Español! Latino! Chicano! Or whatever I call myself, I look the same I cry and sing the same. I am the masses of my people and I refuse to be absorbed. I am Joaquín.”
- Rodolfo “Corky” Gonzales
To hear a great interpretation and history of “I am Joaquín/Yo soy Joaquín”, please take a moment to watch this video by Project Enye featuring Latinx high school students from Denver, CO.
