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villages/hispanic/ AP Headlines Update Page
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Burger King Corp. fires 2 after blog
controversy |
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'Heights' heads Tony nominees list with 13 nods |
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Florida Republicans reach out
to Hispanics |
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Ecuador: indÌgenas evalúan relación con
presidente Correa |
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First Latino to hold major
post at Chicago Trib is leaving |
villages/hispanic/ AP Headlines Update Page
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New opportunities section added
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New QuickSearches
by location and industry, salary tools, more at the
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My Magic Apron
In this humorous commentary, the writer warns that Anglos have taken
the Latino work ethic too far, assuming that any Latino on premises
must be, also, on payroll. Is he wearing a work apron visible to all
but him?
By Richard Villegas, New America Media
LOS ANGELES--Some fashion advice for Latinos: if you want to shop in
peace, don't enter Target wearing red. You'll be pestered without
end for the locations of products or the restrooms. Not that wearing
any other color has stopped Target customers from approaching me
with requests, but you don't want to encourage the confusion by
color-coordinating with the company's uniform.
So, don't wear black in Crate and Barrel, a guayabera in a
restaurant that serves margaritas, or a white dress shirt in just
about any department store or supermarket. In this time of
immigration hysteria, I want to add my two pesos about the shrinking
distinction between employees and Latino customers. I want speak
about the Apron.
My Apron is reddish-brown, like cinnamon, and I can't take it off.
It seems to suddenly materialize when I walk into Los Angeles' west
side shops and restaurants. Whether going out for dinner or shopping
for groceries or shoes, my Apron often makes a customer turn to me
to ask for a size nine or for the location of the laundry detergents
or for a glass of water without ice. I used to be discombobulated by
such random requests from strangers, but then I began to realize
they were seeing something I had on that I hadn't noticed -- the
Apron, which is visible only to others.
The Latino comedy troupe Culture Clash has a great bit in its play
"Chavez Ravine" on the Apron's magic. At one point, the narrator
announces that he's going to make himself disappear. He then grabs a
broom and none of the other characters pay him any attention. When I
saw this, I howled with recognition of a joke as true as a beating
heart.
Now before the Apron turns into a big racial chip on my shoulder, I
must admit that people of all races (including my own) see my Apron
and routinely mistake me for a valet, busboy or clerk. I've now
become hyper-conscious of my shopping attire. I'll wear nice coats,
nice shoes or, if I'm casual, I'll throw on a sweatshirt with my
university alma mater emblazoned across the chest.
Still, all that layering doesn't seem to matter. And that's a little
scary. I'm specifically thinking about those deranged immigrant
chasers who scout airports and bus terminals, trying to catch
illegal aliens. I once heard a news report that these vigilantes say
you can spot an illegal immigrant if he's wearing out-of-date
clothing or a university sweatshirt but has a disheveled look,
which, to be honest, I've seen some of my brethren do. I had an '80s
party to go to the other night and I was glad I didn't have to stop
anywhere else but the party. I felt like my Members Only jacket
could land me in Tijuana, thanks to the Minutemen. Wearing a USC or
UCLA sweatshirt when I'm traveling, I'd more likely be taken for an
illegal alien than a grad student, especially if I forget to shave.
I now understand, however, that the Apron's magic affects all of us.
If I got angry every time someone mistook me for an employee, I'd be
one raging valet. Besides, people are often more embarrassed about
their mistake than I am. I've even come to accept some of the perks.
My Apron can make me invisible when I want, for example. It can also
make me popular during a store sale. And though I'm still waiting to
be accidentally tipped, I can now identify with the frustration of
others who have been similarly misidentified. I think of a corporate
woman in a room full of men. Many such women have been mistaken for
receptionists or secretaries, but they're really executives.
So here's a little Latino advice for everyone else: When you can't
find the housewares aisle or the men's restroom or that iced tea you
ordered, look for an actual apron.
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Template for Creating New Headers - Must Add Banman Zone
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villages/hispanic/ AP Headlines Update Page
|
|
Burger King Corp. fires 2 after blog
controversy |
|
|
'Heights' heads Tony nominees list with 13 nods |
|
|
Florida Republicans reach out
to Hispanics |
|
|
Ecuador: indÌgenas evalúan relación con
presidente Correa |
|
|
First Latino to hold major
post at Chicago Trib is leaving |
villages/hispanic/ AP Headlines Update Page
|
|
|
|
|
|
New opportunities section added
to our Career Center
New QuickSearches
by location and industry, salary tools, more at the
Career Center
|
|
|
My Magic Apron
In this humorous commentary, the writer warns that Anglos have taken
the Latino work ethic too far, assuming that any Latino on premises
must be, also, on payroll. Is he wearing a work apron visible to all
but him?
By Richard Villegas, New America Media
LOS ANGELES--Some fashion advice for Latinos: if you want to shop in
peace, don't enter Target wearing red. You'll be pestered without
end for the locations of products or the restrooms. Not that wearing
any other color has stopped Target customers from approaching me
with requests, but you don't want to encourage the confusion by
color-coordinating with the company's uniform.
So, don't wear black in Crate and Barrel, a guayabera in a
restaurant that serves margaritas, or a white dress shirt in just
about any department store or supermarket. In this time of
immigration hysteria, I want to add my two pesos about the shrinking
distinction between employees and Latino customers. I want speak
about the Apron.
My Apron is reddish-brown, like cinnamon, and I can't take it off.
It seems to suddenly materialize when I walk into Los Angeles' west
side shops and restaurants. Whether going out for dinner or shopping
for groceries or shoes, my Apron often makes a customer turn to me
to ask for a size nine or for the location of the laundry detergents
or for a glass of water without ice. I used to be discombobulated by
such random requests from strangers, but then I began to realize
they were seeing something I had on that I hadn't noticed -- the
Apron, which is visible only to others.
The Latino comedy troupe Culture Clash has a great bit in its play
"Chavez Ravine" on the Apron's magic. At one point, the narrator
announces that he's going to make himself disappear. He then grabs a
broom and none of the other characters pay him any attention. When I
saw this, I howled with recognition of a joke as true as a beating
heart.
Now before the Apron turns into a big racial chip on my shoulder, I
must admit that people of all races (including my own) see my Apron
and routinely mistake me for a valet, busboy or clerk. I've now
become hyper-conscious of my shopping attire. I'll wear nice coats,
nice shoes or, if I'm casual, I'll throw on a sweatshirt with my
university alma mater emblazoned across the chest.
Still, all that layering doesn't seem to matter. And that's a little
scary. I'm specifically thinking about those deranged immigrant
chasers who scout airports and bus terminals, trying to catch
illegal aliens. I once heard a news report that these vigilantes say
you can spot an illegal immigrant if he's wearing out-of-date
clothing or a university sweatshirt but has a disheveled look,
which, to be honest, I've seen some of my brethren do. I had an '80s
party to go to the other night and I was glad I didn't have to stop
anywhere else but the party. I felt like my Members Only jacket
could land me in Tijuana, thanks to the Minutemen. Wearing a USC or
UCLA sweatshirt when I'm traveling, I'd more likely be taken for an
illegal alien than a grad student, especially if I forget to shave.
I now understand, however, that the Apron's magic affects all of us.
If I got angry every time someone mistook me for an employee, I'd be
one raging valet. Besides, people are often more embarrassed about
their mistake than I am. I've even come to accept some of the perks.
My Apron can make me invisible when I want, for example. It can also
make me popular during a store sale. And though I'm still waiting to
be accidentally tipped, I can now identify with the frustration of
others who have been similarly misidentified. I think of a corporate
woman in a room full of men. Many such women have been mistaken for
receptionists or secretaries, but they're really executives.
So here's a little Latino advice for everyone else: When you can't
find the housewares aisle or the men's restroom or that iced tea you
ordered, look for an actual apron.
|
Pacific News Service
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Copyright by Pacific News Service and New American Media. All
rights reserved.
Founded in 1969, Pacific News Service is a nonprofit media
organization dedicated to bringing the seldom heard, often most
misunderstood or ignored voices and ideas into the public forum. PNS
produces a daily news syndicate and sponsors magazine articles,
books, TV segments and films.
New American Media (formerly New
California Media) is a nationwide association of over 700 ethnic
media organizations representing the development of a more inclusive
journalism. Founded in 1996 by Pacific News Service, NAM promotes
ethnic media through
events
such as the Ethnic Media Expo and Ethnic Media Awards,
a
National Directory of Ethnic Media, and such initiatives as the online feature
Exchange Headlines from Ethnic Media,
offering top headlines digested from
ethnic media worldwide, updated five days a week.
IMDiversity.com is committed to presenting diverse points of view.
However, the viewpoint expressed in this article is the opinion of
the author and is not necessarily the viewpoint of the owners or
employees at IMD.
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