Marrying Into Hispanic Heritage is a Same-Sex Celebration
metroweekly.comLa Catrina, looking down on me. Her name’s Lily, as her dress is patterned in black-and-white lilies. She’s reminding me not only that her special holiday approaches, but to take a moment to appreciate National Hispanic Heritage Month.
After all, I’ve married into this heritage.My husband is Mexican American, born in El Paso, Texas. You could call him an “anchor baby,” if in some corners that phrase might be sneered as a pejorative.
He’s certainly my anchor.A racist might consider him a lesser American than me, because he’s first generation American, while I’ve got potato-famine-era Irish roots from New York.
And because I’m as pasty white as they come. The irony is that my husband was born in the United States; I was not.[adert1]Marrying into Hispanic culture was something of a surprise to me.I’ve learned that when you get involved with someone of a different race/ethnicity, there are often assumptions of some kind of fetish.
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