Car-bombs and all
My so-called ethnicity is not a part of my identity. I feel somewhat uncomfortable when, on forms, I have to identify myself as “white”, and only slightly less so when given the better sounding “Caucasian” (although I doubt my ancestors would have any idea what the Caucasus were). I have gotten in numerous conversations over the years with people who work for Chicano-Latino Student Affairs (CLSA) and who insist that it is in fact important to differentiate between the two (Chicanos are Spanish speaking people born in the United States, Latinos are similar but born in “unoccupied territory”). When I hang out with my Asian/Indian friends, they’re always the first to point out I’m the “token white friend”, which confused me at first, since I didn’t know I was white or that they were Indian - they just like spicy foods and strange movies.
I guess as close to a cultural identity I can point to is the label “Irish”, of which I am strangely proud, despite the dual fact that I am a) also half German, and b) estranged from the Irish side of the family (you drink them under the table once…). Still, there is a proclivity to support my Irish heritage (despite the fact I have none) - a curious state of affairs that manifests itself in different ways. Most notably:
- the fact that I said once to a group of friends that “I just want to see Ireland once before I die” (there was alcohol involved);
- that I can be a bit stubborn and ‘turn red’ when annoyed;
- my proclivity to solve relationship problems with car bombs over talking;
- the fact that I once got in a fight with a Scotsman over our respective heritages (“What are you talking about, Scots being tougher? I don’t care about your Braveheart bullshit, the Scots gave up to the English, the Irish are still fighting!”);
- (to be fair, point 4 also involved liberal amount of alcohol);
- my tendency to tell hippies: “F* Tibet! Free Ireland!”
But the time at which my being Irish is most apparent is when I’m getting pumped up for a midterm and I have Irish/Celtic battle music blasting though my speakers loud enough to injure most people within a ¼ mile radius. Damn, it’s good to be Irish.