Being Brown

I thoroughly enjoy engaging taxi drivers in conversation. Since we are restricted from taking public transportation in the capital, I have to take a taxi anytime I am traveling to or through Guate. A surprising number of the drivers have spent some time in the states or have a relative there (mojado), and most of them are intrigued why an American would want to leave the United States to live in Guatemala. Usually the conversation is a simple exchange involving questions about what I am doing here, comments about the weather, and musings about Colom’s job performance.

But every once and I while, I get a driver who wants to fully aprovechar of my 20 minutes in his car to pick my gringa brain. I had one such taxista before leaving on my trip to the US last month. During the ride from the Monja Blanca bus station to my hotel, we covered Guatemalan politics, American politics, the economic crisis, and approaches to development. The trip wasn’t long enough for him to pose all his questions and hear my opinions, so when we pulled into my hotel, he parked the car to continue the conversation. It seemed as if he had one last burning topic to breach, and he hesitantly put forth a final question/observation.

“I imagine that you encounter a lot of discrimination in your country, given that you are black.”

“I’m not black.”

“Well, you’re very brown.”

I went on to explain to my inquisitive taxi driver that although I am “very brown,” I am not discriminated against in the United States. Yes, brown people very often face discrimination, but they are usually Hispanics. Many Americans hear a person with a Spanish accent and stereotypically assume that he/she is an uneducated illegal immigrant from Mexico stealing a hardworking American’s job and living off the government. But since I don’t have a Spanish accent, even though I am brown, that racial stereotype is not applied to me.

Usually.

It was just the following day as I arrived on American soil at the Miami International airport that my theory was destroyed. Being brown coupled with the assumption that I am Latino is enough to warrant discrimination.

During my Peace Corps service I have made three trips to the states. Every time I have filled out my customs paperwork as an American citizen residing in Guatemala and visiting the United States, and every time I have faced slight to overt discrimination.

The first time I went back to the states was in June of 2008 for my cousin’s wedding. It had been over a year since I had been in my native country, and for some reason I kind of assumed I would get a “Welcome home.” On the contrary, the immigration official at DFW harassed me because I didn’t know the address of the hotel where I was staying in Austin.

“Well, if you are supposedly going to your cousin’s wedding, wouldn’t you be staying at her house?”

“I don’t know how many weddings you have attended where the bride and groom lodge all their guests, but this isn’t one of them. We are staying in a hotel of which unfortunately I don’t know the address.”

The official was not amused, but she eventually let me pass without further questioning. I thought this was an isolated and slightly comical incident until similar things happened to me during my next two trips to the states.

I have traveled a good bit and coming back from various countries in Europe and Africa, I have encountered nothing but pleasant and dutiful immigration officers. But I always had a United States address to go home to. It was during my last visit to Boston that I eventually realized it isn’t a coincidence that every official I’ve had since being in Peace Corps has been unpleasant and mistrustful. Now that I am residing in Guatemala and visiting the states, my brownness makes me suspicious.

But the thing is, I make it very clear that I am a Peace Corps Volunteer. I write it on my immigration forms, and I state it when I am asked what I am doing in Guatemala. There is even a big sticker on the front of my passport saying I am in Peace Corps and if that isn’t enough, “The bearer is a Peace Corps Volunteer,” is also typed on the back page. But even with my clearly and repeatedly asserted reason for being in Guatemala, I am still treated with suspicion.

Perhaps the fact that I am “allegedly” a Peace Corps Volunteer is dismissed in the zealous search to find anyone trying to enter the United States illegally. I am sure for an immigration official catching a traveler in a lie would add a little excitement to an otherwise monotonous day spent stamping passports. And a brown person with an American passport coming from Central America is probably more likely to provide that thrill than a white person in the same situation.

The demeanor of the official I encountered in Miami during my last trip was beyond unpleasant. He actually appeared to be angry with me. I answered all of his numerous curt questions, but apparently he was not convinced that the only thing other my personal effects in by bag was four bags of coffee. He sent me to have my suitcase inspected by customs. They found four bags of coffee.

I know immigration officials play a very important role in keeping our country safe, but they are also frontline ambassadors to the United States. They are the first Americans travelers encounter when coming to our “nation of immigrants.” Yes, they need to carefully question travelers to ensure no one is entering illegally, but the process can and should be done in a pleasant and respectful manner. With the antagonistic officials I have faced during my last three times returning to the states, I have wanted to yell, “I am a law-abiding American citizen dammit!” But I knew such an outburst would probably get me escorted to a windowless interrogation room. So I just answered all their seemingly endless, sometimes slightly ridiculous, but always brusque questions. I keep thinking that if this is the reception I get as a citizen how unpleasant going through immigration must be for a foreigner. Welcome to the United States right.