instruction attached 

Portland State University Chicano/Latino Communities

Chicano/Latino Studies CHLA 301U

Prof. de Anda Winter Quarter 2021

Exam 2

Instructions: Choose one question and write a 2.5-3.0 page essay (double-space, not more than 850 words). You should provide a word count at the end of your essay.

Do not copy the question — simply indicate the number of the question and start your essay. I am going to evaluate your essays based on two criteria: form (i.e., organization of essay and grammar) and content (i.e., what you say).

I am asking you to summarize the argument in Flores-Gonzalez’s book, Citizens but not Americans. That is, take her argument and put it in your own words. Do not insert your opinion. If you do, it will count against your grade. You are not to use direct quotes from the book, except for definitions of technical terms such as ethnorace.

The exam is due before midnight on Sunday, March 14th. Late exams will be penalized at a rate of 5.7 points out of 100 for every 24 hours that it is late, starting with the first 24 hours.

Choose one question:

Q1: According to Flores-González, three components support an ethnoracial framework for Latino millennials: coupling of ethnicity and race, Latino prototype, and the weight of Latin American ancestry (Chapter 3). Discuss each of the components of this framework and provide examples. For ethnorace, use the definition by Linda Martin Alcoff. Please keep the definition short. Provide succinct examples.

Q2: In chapter 4, Flores-González discusses her narrators’ assessment of their location on the racial order in the United States. What social, economic and cultural characteristics (e.g., skin color, social class, language) led Latino millennials to place themselves in the solid racial middle, the racial middle tilting white, and the racial middle tilting black? How does Latinos’ perception of their location in the racial middle affect their sense of racial exclusion and marginalization? Provide succinct examples.

C i t i z e n s bu t N ot A m e ri c a n s

L a t i n a / o S o c i o l o g y S e r i e s
General Editors: Pierrette Hondagneu- Sotelo and Victor M. Rios
Family Secrets: Stories of Incest and Sexual Violence in Mexico
Gloria González- López
Deported: Immigrant Policing, Disposable Labor, and Global Capitalism
Tanya Maria Golash- Boza
From Deportation to Prison: The Politics of Immigration Enforcement in Post–
Civil Rights America
Patrisia Macías- Rojas
Cultural Guardians: Latinas in the Teaching Profession
Glenda M. Flores
Citizens but Not Americans: Race and Belonging among Latino Millennials
Nilda Flores- González

Citizens but Not Americans
Race and Belonging among Latino Millennials
Nilda Flores- González
N E W Y O R K U N I V E R S I T Y P R E S S
New York

N E W YO R K U N I V E R S I T Y P R E S S
New York
www.nyupress.org
© 2017 by New York University
All rights reserved
References to Internet websites (URLs) were accurate at the time of writing. Neither the
author nor New York University Press is responsible for URLs that may have expired or
changed since the manuscript was prepared.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Flores-González, Nilda, author.
Title: Citizens but not Americans : race and belonging among Latino millennials /
Nilda Flores-González.
Description: New York : New York University Press, 2018. | Includes bibliographical
references and index.
Identifiers: L C C N 2017008027| I S B N 9781479825523 (cl : alk. paper) |
I S B N 9781479840779 (pb : alk. paper)
Subjects: L C S H : Hispanic American young adults—Race identity.
Classification: L C C E 184.S 75 F 56 2018 | D D C 305.868/073—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017008027
New York University Press books are printed on acid- free paper, and their binding materials
are chosen for strength and durability. We strive to use environmentally responsible suppli-
ers and materials to the greatest extent possible in publishing our books.
Manufactured in the United States of America
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Also available as an ebook

http://www.nyupress.org

https://lccn.loc.gov/2017008027

To Elena, Diana, and Julian

vii
C o n t e n t s
Acknowledgments ix
1. Race and Belonging among Latino Millennials 1
2. Latinos and the Racial Politics of Place and Space 31
3. Latinos as an Ethnorace 51
4. Latinos as a Racial Middle 80
5. Latinos as “Real” Americans 117
6. Rethinking Race and Belonging among Latino Millennials 150
References 159
Index 169
About the Author 177

Ac k n ow l e d g m e n t s
As I put the final touches on this book, I cannot help but wonder how
the young women and men who were interviewed for this project feel
today— after Donald Trump was elected U.S. president despite a cam-
paign that portrayed Latinos as a threat to the nation. I would not
be surprised to find that more than ever they feel as citizens but not
Americans but are also more than ever bent on claiming— and fighting
for— their right to belong. I want to thank these young Latinos for shar-
ing their stories. I hope that my analysis does justice to their words.
I am forever indebted to my colleagues Andy Clarno, Lorena Garcia,
Michael Rodriguez- Muñíz, Maura Toro- Morn, and Steve Warner for
reading drafts and providing comments that helped shape this book. I
am particularly touched by Lorena Garcia’s generosity in both time and
kindness, and her insightful and always on- point comments. I am also
indebted to Michael Rodríguez- Muñíz for helping me sharpen my argu-
ments. This book was enriched by many lively conversations with Andy
Clarno, Bradley Zopf, Jessica Cook, and Maura Toro- Morn that pushed
me to further develop my ideas. I have been lucky to find a mentor and
good friend in Steve Warner, an extraordinary scholar with a big heart
who took me under his wing the day I arrived at the University of Il-
linois at Chicago, and who to this day continues to mentor me. Thanks
to my writing buddy, Pamela Popielarz, for keeping me accountable and
encouraging me through the different stages of the writing. I want to
thank Ilene Kalish, Caelyn Cobb, and Alexia Traganas from NYU Press
for their support and guidance. I also want to thank the anonymous
reviewers for their constructive comments that help me improve the
manuscript. My appreciation also goes to the undergraduate students
who helped collect data for this project.
I want to express my gratitude to my dear friends Maura Toro- Morn,
Mony Ruiz- Velasco, Monina Diaz, and Lisa Milam for keeping me sane
and for providing much- needed laughter. In this long process, others

x | Ac k n ow l e d g m e n t s
provided support and encouragement: Susie Karwowski, Chris Ber-
gin, Aixa Alfonso, Pamela Quiroz, Elizabeth Aranda, Héctor Cordero-
Guzmán, Marisa Alicea, and Juanita Goergen. I am also grateful to my
colleagues at UIC, who, like me, approach their work with a commit-
ment to social justice: Xochitl Bada, Claire Decoteau, Tyrone Forman,
Elena Gutierrez, Amanda Lewis, Patrisia Macias- Rojas, Amalia Pallares,
Atef Said, Laurie Schaffner, and Nena Torres. Special thanks to Barbara
Risman and Maria Krysan for their unwavering encouragement. Thanks
also to Tara Williams and Jennifer Michals for their support throughout
this process.
Lastly, I want to thank Joel Palka and our children, Elena, Diana, and
Julian, for keeping me grounded and focused on what matters in life,
and for motivating me to keep going when I was ready to give up. Elena,
Diana, and Julian, I hope that you always know that you belong. And
to my late father, Erving, my mother, Eva, and my siblings, Angie, Evi,
Naydi, Machin, and Diani, thank you for always having my back.

1
1
Race and Belonging among Latino Millennials
Danila is a twenty- two- year- old second- generation woman of Mexican
descent whose narrative provides a glance at Latino millennials’ experi-
ences as citizens but not Americans when she says:
I don’t think I am an American. I would say that I am Mexican because I
think based on my experiences I would identify as a Mexican. Like when
people look at me they are not like “Oh yeah, she’s an American.” When
they see me they think “Oh yeah, she’s Mexican.” Society doesn’t see me as
an American. They see me as a Mexican. So I guess that’s why I don’t see
myself as American, because others don’t see me as an American. If they
don’t see me as an American, why should I see myself as an American?
Although Danila was born in the United States, her everyday experi-
ences belie her status as an American. Her physical appearance marks
her as Mexican and erases her Americanness. Her experiences under-
score the role of race in notions of belonging to the American imagined
community. Danila is not alone. Feeling that they are citizens but not
Americans is the underlying theme I found in my research on second-
and third- generation Latino millennials.
Why does it matter that these youths feel excluded? We should pay
heed to what these Latino millennials say because, by sheer numbers,
they will inevitably have a significant social, economic, and political im-
pact on U.S. society. Latinos are the second- largest racial group, and
Latino millennials specifically constitute one- fifth— and the second-
largest segment— of the millennial population. As the largest genera-
tional cohort of Latinos in U.S. history, these youths— who in 2017 range
in age from twenty to thirty- six— will propel the Latino population ex-
ponentially as they have children over the next two decades. Yet, we do
not know much about Latino millennials beyond basic demographics,
save for a few educational studies that point to their dim prospects for

2 | R ac e a n d B e l o n g i n g a m o n g L at i n o M i l l e n n ia l s
social mobility. The stories I present here tell how these U.S.- born chil-
dren and grandchildren of immigrants from Latin America are becom-
ing integrated into contemporary American society. In Citizens but Not
Americans, I provide a deeper understanding of Latino millennials by
examining how they understand race, experience race, and develop ra-
cialized notions of belonging.
I focus on race because in these youths’ narratives it emerges as the
most meaningful social category attached to notions of belonging. As
an essential social marker, race defines who belongs to the American
imagined community. Race is indisputably the common thread in these
narratives and plays a central role in how these young people perceive
themselves, the position they occupy in the U.S. racial order, and their
status as members of the polity. In exploring the centrality of race in
shaping notions of belonging among Latino millennials, I argue that
current racial ideas and practices impact the ways in which this group
understands race, makes meaning of lived experiences as racialized
subjects, and develops racialized notions of belonging that are marked
by racial exclusion. I show how multidimensional and intersecting pro-
cesses of racialization are particularly pronounced as Latino millennials
navigate their daily lives and their place within American society.
The narratives presented in this book reflect three distinct yet inter-
related themes— Latinos as an ethnorace, Latinos as a racial middle, and
Latinos as “real” Americans— that emerged from interviews with ninety-
seven U.S.- born Latino youths in 2009. Their narratives capture their feel-
ings of exclusion from the imagined American community along three
dimensions— racial categorization, racial hierarchy, and national inclu-
sion. Racialized along these three dimensions, these youths find them-
selves outside of the boundaries of how “American” is defined. Yet their
narratives challenge their exclusion and push for their recognition as
Americans. These three themes are illustrated in the narrative of a twenty-
one- year- old second- generation Mexican named Arielle, whose words
capture the essence of what the Latino millennials in this study experience.
Arielle
Arielle is a college student who lives in a predominantly Mexican neigh-
borhood on Chicago’s South Side. Her parents are immigrants from

R ac e a n d B e l o n g i n g a m o n g L at i n o M i l l e n n ia l s | 3
Mexico who met in Chicago and have struggled to make a life for them-
selves and their children. Arielle likens her family’s experiences to those
of other minority groups. She explains:
I am part of the working class. My parents do work hard, but they never
had the luxury of being happy and saying, “Oh, I am middle class or upper
class.” [They are] only happy with just being able to have a house and being
in the U.S. raising their kids [with] everyone in school. I feel like I am defi-
nitely part of the working class and part of a somewhat subordinate group.
Because we are a majority, but we also don’t get as much representation
as people who are white or I think anyone who is not white [can] kind of
relate to us because we are all in the same mix, [in] the same boat.
Being U.S.- born, Arielle has views on the American dream that differ
from those of her immigrant parents. While her parents are content
with what they have accomplished in comparison to their lives in
Mexico— holding stable jobs, owning a house, sending their children
to college— Arielle notices the inequities that mark her life as a racial
minority in the United States and that prevent her from sharing the priv-
ileges enjoyed by whites. The limits of the American dream are apparent
to Arielle, who believes that despite the fast growth of the population,
Latinos’ numerical majority does not translate to equality. She stresses
that being a Latina, “it is like a constant struggle because even though
we are growing and becoming a majority, even if the whole U.S. becomes
half Hispanic, we will still be viewed as being beneath anyone who is
white or American because just the fact [of ] the history and the color
of our skin.” To her, Latinos will continue to stand out as nonwhite and
non- Americans even if they reach a numerical majority. Implied in
Arielle’s words are the three themes— Latinos as an ethnorace, a racial
middle, and “real” Americans— that characterize these millennials’ nar-
ratives of belonging.
The idea of Latinos as an ethnorace— the first theme in these Latino
millennials’ narratives— illustrates how the exclusion of Latinos from
conventional U.S. racial categories has eroded these youths’ sense of
belonging. Like Danila, Arielle is aware that based on her appearance,
“people assume a whole list of things I could be,” but white and Ameri-
can are not among them. Inverting the general usage of terms, Arielle

4 | R ac e a n d B e l o n g i n g a m o n g L at i n o M i l l e n n ia l s
identifies racially as Mexican American and ethnically as Latino and
Hispanic. Like Arielle, the Latino millennials in this study found them-
selves in a racial quandary, knowing that they do not fit in the white or
black racial categories that are imposed on them, but also do not have
an officially recognized racial category to claim as their own. Yet they
assert racial labels that are meaningful to them as well as to others. In
the absence of an official racial category, they appropriate ethnic and
panethnic terms such as “Mexican” and “Hispanic/Latino” as racial ref-
erents. This seemingly inconsistent racial identification pattern among
the youths reflects a problematic racial categorization scheme based on
abstract notions of race that do not align with how people think about,
experience, or practice race in everyday life.
My analysis reveals that these youths conceptualize themselves as an
ethnoracial group (see Alcoff 2006). Their ethnoracial categorization in-
cludes racial and cultural attributes about what makes up the stereotypi-
cal Latino, such as “tan” skin color, Spanish language, particular foods
and music, family values, and Latin American ancestry. Arielle identi-
fies skin color as a visible marker of her ethnoracial status when she
says, “Being a Mexican American, either way I am not white, I am still
a different color skin from someone else that automatically like singles
me out and stuff.” In addition to physical traits, Arielle points to an-
cestry and culture as additional markers of her ethnoracial status when
she states, “I think if you are of any kind of Latino or South American
descent, you know, if you can speak Spanish or you know someone in
your family is from a country that speaks Spanish or something, that
makes you that [Latino].” These youths understand that to others, and
to themselves, they constitute a separate ethnoracial group made up of
people of Latin American ancestry, even when this is not officially rec-
ognized. Having no proper designation in the U.S. racial scheme, and
feeling forced to choose from racial categories (e.g., white or black) that
do not befit them, Latino youths find that their racial miscategorization
leaves them with a diminished sense of belonging.
The second narrative— Latinos as racial middle— is rooted in the
youths’ sense of marginalization derived from their subordinate status
in the racial hierarchy. Just as they do not fit in conventional racial cat-
egories, these youths do not fit in a racial order characterized by a sharp
color line that places whites at the top and blacks at the bottom, and that

R ac e a n d B e l o n g i n g a m o n g L at i n o M i l l e n n ia l s | 5
assumes that Latinos fit on one or the other side of the color line. Not
fitting within these conventional racial categories, Arielle believes that
Latinos “fall in the between, [in] the gray area,” because they are “viewed
as being beneath anyone who is white or American.” Like Arielle, many
other millennials understand themselves as occupying an “intermediate”
or “racial middle” social position that is lower than that of whites but
higher than that of blacks.
My findings challenge the assumption that Latinos are “becoming
white” and are therefore situated closer to whites in the racial hierarchy.
These millennials’ narratives show that they do not locate themselves at
the upper end of the racial hierarchy alongside whites, but neither do
they locate themselves at the very bottom with blacks. Theirs is a ra-
cial middle that tilts toward the lower echelons of the racial hierarchy—
much closer to blacks’ subordinate status than to whites’ superior status.
Arielle says, “I definitely feel closer to pretty much the African American
or other like Hispanic ethnicity. I feel like we are all kind of viewed as
one big kind of group of people, that since we are not white we are auto-
matically viewed as not bad but not good for the country or something.
I can relate to that because we are all in the same boat in the end trying
to fight to be equal to everybody else.” Latino millennials in general felt
closer to— and had a sense of solidarity with— blacks, with whom they
share a marginal status, as well as with Middle Easterners, particularly
those with Arab and Muslim backgrounds.
In contrast, these youths feel distant from Asians and whites mainly
because they generally have much less interaction with people from
these groups. But by far those they feel most distant from— and those
they perceive as occupying a privileged position in the racial hierarchy—
are whites. Arielle distances herself from whites when she says, “I defi-
nitely feel different from the American, you know, white people and a
few Asians simply because they haven’t had to go through the struggle
we had growing up and as a grown- up they also have an upper hand
you know. . . . I don’t think they will ever truly know what it’s like to live
the life that we do. They have not always had it easy, but they had that
extra push.” Like Arielle, these youths’ self- location in the bottom half of
the racial hierarchy is based on both structural and everyday racialized
experiences that mark them distinctively as nonwhite. These struggles
make them question their status as Americans and differentiate them

6 | R ac e a n d B e l o n g i n g a m o n g L at i n o M i l l e n n ia l s
from whites and Asians, whom they view as occupying an advantageous
position.
The last theme— Latinos as “real” Americans— speaks to the youths’
struggle to insert themselves within the boundaries that define who
is American. Despite their birthright citizenship, upbringing, and so-
cialization into American culture, these youths are reluctant to call
themselves Americans. This reluctance sprouts from their ethnoracial
exclusion— or not having the racial and cultural traits required to be
seen as full- fledged members of the American imagined community.
Using familiar American tropes, these youths offer a counternarrative
that challenges their ethnoracial exclusion and demands inclusion on
their own terms.
Like most of the Latino millennials interviewed for this study, Arielle
understands herself as a citizen mainly because, as she says, “I was born
here, I have my papers straight, they’ve been straight since birth.” For
Arielle, birthright or naturalization is the determinant for citizenship.
Yet she falters when asked how she understands herself as an American.
She responds, “When I think of the term ‘American,’ the first thing I
think of is like any person being born in the U.S., or actually any Cauca-
sian or white person who is being raised in this country all their life on
American values from back in the day, pretty much . . . I think techni-
cally anyone who is born in the U.S. will be American.” While “techni-
cally” an American is anyone born in the United States, there are racial
(white), cultural (values), and generational (from back in the day) crite-
ria to being American that Arielle does not meet. Arielle states that “the
only reason why I fit into this definition is because I am Mexican Ameri-
can because obviously I am not 100 percent Mexican. I was not born in
Mexico, but since I was born in the U.S. that makes just the term, just
a label of American, but I am Mexican because that’s what both of my
parents are, and that is how I was raised.” Although she is technically
American, Arielle uses the term “Mexican American” to denote that she
is U.S.- born of Mexican descent. Like Arielle, those youths who iden-
tify in this way do so to distinguish themselves from their foreign- born
counterparts.
Being othered as noncitizens and non- Americans, these youths de-
velop an awareness and an understanding of the limits of citizenship
and Americanness. Although they are citizens by birth, they are aware

R ac e a n d B e l o n g i n g a m o n g L at i n o M i l l e n n ia l s | 7
that they are seen by non- Latinos as noncitizens because their Latin
American ancestry— disclosed by their looks, cultural manners, and/
or surname— points to their immigrant background. Conjectures about
their immigrant roots call into question their legality, as others assume
that anyone who is “Latino” must be undocumented. Arielle faces the
stigma of “illegality” in everyday life, such as when “the student who
never experienced other races automatically thought that my family,
you know, had a lawn- mowing business, or they thought they were il-
legal, and that was not true.” She adds, “When I encounter people who
are against immigration and they see that I am Mexican or Latino or
Hispanic descent, they view me as ‘You people are always coming here
illegally’ or they automatically think that I am an immigrant or I am
here illegally or my family are related to being illegal, and they do not
see the whole story.” These racialized experiences erode Arielle’s sense
of belonging and lead her to form a pragmatic view of belonging that
stresses legal rather than cultural membership in the American imag-
ined community.
In Citizens but Not Americans, I examine the effect of racialization
on Latino millennials’ understanding of their marginal status in U.S.
society. Ancestry, skin color and phenotype, social class, education,
gender, language, and aspects of culture converge and shape how these
youths experience and navigate everyday racialization. Racialized along
three dimensions— as an ethnorace, as a racial middle, and as not “real”
Americans— these youths remain outside of the boundaries of “Ameri-
can.” Identifying as citizens but not Americans belies their status as full
members of U.S. society and points to the entrenchment of race in no-
tions of belonging to the American imagined community. My purpose
in writing this book is to contribute to our understanding of Latino mil-
lennials’ place in U.S. society, and particularly of how they make sense
of themselves as Americans. To understand why these youths feel they
are citizens but not Americans, we need to examine how they come to
understand and define themselves as such.
Race as a Social Construct
In examining how these youths come to understand and define them-
selves as citizens but not Americans, I use a social constructionist

8 | R ac e a n d B e l o n g i n g a m o n g L at i n o M i l l e n n ia l s
theoretical framework. Like Omi and Winant (2014), I view race as a
fundamental organizing principle in U.S. society, but one that is socially
constructed. This approach posits that race has no factual scientific bio-
logical basis and that its relevance is due to the social meaning given
to physical or phenotypic characteristics. Through the process of “race
making,” people are “othered,” or made different, based on their physical
features, but this “othering” also includes cultural traits. In “othering,” a
group’s presumed physical and cultural characteristics are essentialized
and believed to be endemic. Racialization happens when racial mean-
ing is given to a group, and that group’s categorization is created and
re- created in social interactions and structures.
As Omi and Winant (2014) pose, race is ubiquitous in that it is em-
bedded in individual and institutional social relations and in the social,
economic, political, and cultural structures that permeate everyday life.
The perniciousness of this racial social system lies in its quotidian and
increasingly elusive nature with a popular discourse on color blindness
that underplays the continuing significance of race. Bobo and Smith
(1998) argue that the systematic, overt, and violent racism that char-
acterized the Jim Crow era has been replaced by gentler laissez- faire
racism. Likewise, Bonilla- Silva (2003, 2013) argues that this post– civil
rights racism is characterized by the rearticulation of racism in seem-
ingly imperceptible and covert ways. Today’s racism is manifested in
the repeated and frequent discrimination that happens in everyday life
(Bonilla- Silva 2003, 2013; Essed 1991; Feagin and Cobas 2014) and that
is manifested in what Pierce et al. (1978) have labeled racial microag-
gressions. These everyday “put- downs” directed at a person or group are
intended to exclude and marginalize racial groups as inferior and un-
desirable (Pierce et al. 1978). As is apparent in ideologies, policies, and
practices that disadvantage nonwhite people in order to protect white
privilege, race has real and definite social consequences for different ra-
cial groups (Bonilla- Silva 2003, 2013; Omi and Winant 2014).
In the United States, race is characterized by a sharp color line that
divides whites and blacks, and a racial hierarchy that parallels the distri-
bution of and access to resources. This color line is closely guarded by
clearly demarcated racial boundaries that are policed in informal and
formal ways by individuals, institutions, and the state. While individual
policing takes the form of prejudice and discrimination, institutional

R ac e a n d B e l o n g i n g a m o n g L at i n o M i l l e n n ia l s | 9
and state policing of racial boundaries involves unequal access to re-
sources, as well as legalized and institutionalized forms of surveillance,
profiling, confinement, incarceration, and violence directed at racial mi-
nority groups (Omi and Winant 2014). The institutionalization of Latino
racialization permeates Latinos’ daily life experiences and impacts their
life chances.
In this book, I unpack the process of “race making” by examining
how Latino millennials experience “othering” in everyday life and how
these experiences shape their understanding of themselves as marginal
members of the U.S. polity. While staying firmly grounded in sociology,
I use an interdisciplinary approach that borrows concepts developed by
political scientists, historians, anthropologists, philosophers, and legal
scholars to examine the centrality of race to young Latinos’ understand-
ing of themselves and their social positions. I also use an intersectional
lens to unravel the complexities of Latinos’ self- understandings that lead
to a diminished sense of belonging to the national community. In simple
terms, intersectionality examines the ways that various forms of discrim-
ination, oppression, and privilege act together. It also draws attention to
the obvious and not so obvious connections between different social
categorizations such as race, gender, sexuality, legal status, and social
class. While each of these social categorizations individually increases
or decreases chances for discrimination, when they are combined, the
chances and impacts of discrimination may magnify or lessen. Intersec-
tionality purposely engages in linking social categorizations to uncover
how particular connections— or configurations— minimize or accentu-
ate social articulations such as racial identification. An intersectional
approach thus provides the critical means— and the analytical power—
required to identify how members of the same group experience racial
dynamics differently, and are impacted differently, due to their specific
locations within interlocking systems of oppression.
Although I draw on an intersectional approach to guide my analysis
of the experiences that youths articulated in their interviews, its applica-
tion is not always obvious because many of these young people’s experi-
ences were a matter of degree rather than kind. I made an intentional
effort to apply an intersectional lens whenever the data permitted, al-
lowing me to make note of those instances in which the collusion of
race, gender, legal status, and/or social class had an effect on the fre-

10 | R ac e a n d B e l o n g i n g a m o n g L at i n o M i l l e n n ia l s
quency, intensity, and type of racial experiences as well as the youths’ re-
sponses to these experiences. These approaches— interdisciplinary and
intersectional— allow me to develop a more complex understanding of
how race is conceptualized and experienced by U.S.- born Latino mil-
lennials. By identifying and untangling the multidimensional process
of racialization, I show how intersecting forms of exclusion lead Latino
youths to develop subjectivities that signal their marginal status in U.S.
society. By understanding how Latino millennials are racialized, we can
gain insights into why these youths feel that they are citizens but not
Americans.
The Racialization of Citizenship and Americanness
This book is grounded in Castles and Davidson’s (2000) notion of
citizens who do not belong. Castles and Davidson argue that there are
citizens whose ethnic, racial, or religious backgrounds highlight their
cultural differences and limit their access to the rights and privileges of
citizenship. They pose that belonging to the nation- state requires both
political and cultural membership. Political membership is based on
documentation such as birthright or naturalization and imparts civil,
political, and social rights to its bearers. Cultural membership is based
on cultural homogeneity— manifested in shared values and ideals— such
that assimilation is required in order to belong. Thus, there can be citi-
zens who, despite their political membership, do not enjoy all the rights
of citizenship because of “cultural” exclusion based on race, ethnicity,
class, gender, or religion. They are what historian Mae Ngai (2007) calls
the alien citizen, describing them as citizens by birth whose immigrant
ancestry, discernible by racial and cultural traits, marks them indelibly
as foreigners and renders their status as citizens and Americans dubi-
ous. By having their political and cultural membership questioned,
these groups are positioned outside the boundaries that define who is a
citizen and an American. That is, they are otherized as noncitizen and
non- American.
Ngai’s notion of the alien citizen is tied to the racialization of U.S. citi-
zenship and American national identity as white. As whiteness became
the prerequisite for becoming both a citizen and an American, those
defined as nonwhite were deemed foreigners, unassimilable and banned

R ac e a n d B e l o n g i n g a m o n g L at i n o M i l l e n n ia l s | 11
from access to naturalization (Carbado 2005; Haney Lopez 2006; Ngai
2007). As a result of the racialization of citizenship and Americanness
as white, nonwhite groups continue to be imagined as foreigners as this
label extends to subsequent generations (Carbado 2005; Jiménez 2010;
Ngai 2007; Tuan 1999). Alienage is then a permanent condition (Ngai
2007), and these groups remain forever foreigners (Tuan 1999) and per-
manent immigrant groups (Jiménez 2010) despite their historical pres-
ence and long- standing status as U.S. citizens. As their marginalization
endures through the generations, minority groups come to define them-
selves collectively through their exclusion (Castles and Davidson 2000).
Although I use the phrase “citizens but not Americans” to describe the
Latino millennials’ feelings of exclusion from the American imagined
community, this phrase conveys the notion that these youths are both
citizens who do not belong and alien citizens.
To understand why Latino millennials feel they are citizens but
not Americans, we need to review the social, political, and historical
processes involved in the construction of Latinos as citizens who do
not belong and alien citizens. These processes were under way by the
time of the annexation of Mexican territory in 1848 and the coloniza-
tion of Puerto Rico in 1898, which construed the inhabitants of these
territories— and those of Mexican and Puerto Rican national origin—
largely as white and thus eligible for citizenship. The Treaty of Gua-
dalupe Hidalgo stipulated that U.S. citizenship would be extended to
Mexican citizens of the annexed territory. Puerto Ricans were also
largely defined as white because, as Duany (2002, 247) argues, in a soci-
ety that defined itself as white, classifying the Puerto Rican population
as mostly white “helped to allay the common racist fear that the U.S.
government had annexed a predominantly black population after the
War of 1898.” While these populations were defined largely as white for
citizenship purposes, they were not commonly understood as white. As
historians and legal scholars show, being “white by law” made Mexicans
eligible for citizenship, but socially they remained nonwhites (Almaguer
2008; Gomez 2007; Haney Lopez 2006; Menchaca 2002; Molina 2014).
That is, in everyday life, they were treated as nonwhites. Scholars add
that in common understanding and practice, Mexicans occupied a so-
cial position distinct from whites, blacks, Asians, and American Indians
(Almaguer 2008; Menchaca 2002; Molina 2014). Marked by their eth-

12 | R ac e a n d B e l o n g i n g a m o n g L at i n o M i l l e n n ia l s
nicity, which distinguished them from other (European- descent) whites,
Latinos remained a “race apart” or “off- white” (Almaguer 2008; Gomez
2007; Hayes- Bautista and Chapa 1987; Menchaca 2002). These notions
applied to Puerto Ricans and subsequently to all Latin Americans— they
were citizens by law, but certainly they were not Americans by common
understanding.
Paradoxically, Latinos’ “whiteness” was a basis for what legal scholar
Devon Carbado (2005) calls inclusive exclusion. Carbado argues that
groups defined as nonwhite or non- American occupy a position of ra-
cial liminality that renders them simultaneously as insiders and outsid-
ers. He likens this racial liminality to being “foreign in a domestic sense.”
He argues that groups experience inclusive exclusion when they encoun-
ter exclusion from citizenship, exclusion from the imagined American
community, and/or exclusion from equal rights and opportunities. Lati-
nos can be described as experiencing inclusive exclusion. As “white eth-
nics,” Latinos had access to citizenship and some of its perks, but their
ethnicity became the basis for exclusion from Americanness and from
the full rights and privileges of citizenship. As Fox and Guglielmo (2012)
put it, Latinos were boundary straddlers because in some instances they
counted as whites, and in others they were considered nonwhite. That is,
sometimes they were included, and at other times they were excluded.
Latinos often deployed their whiteness in claims making to gain access
to resources such as citizenship, voting rights, and white schools, but
their ethnicity was in turn used to deny them full access to other rights
and privileges. While black exclusion was based on their assumed ra-
cial inferiority, Latinos’ exclusion was based on their assumed cultural
inferiority. In other words, blacks were excluded because they were not
white, and Latinos were excluded because they were culturally inferior
“whites.” Regardless of its basis, both groups’ exclusion involved their
legal and social separation from whites. For instance, Mexicans’ segre-
gation into all- Mexican schools and classrooms was based not on the
legal separation of races, since Mexicans were considered “white by law,”
but on their presumed linguistic and cultural differences (MacDonald
2004; Valencia 1991). Mexicans’ whiteness was also the basis for differ-
ential justice as a jury of non- Latino whites constituted a jury of peers in
cases where the defendant was Mexican (Haney Lopez 2004). Mexicans
and Puerto Ricans also counted as whites in integration efforts. As Fer-

R ac e a n d B e l o n g i n g a m o n g L at i n o M i l l e n n ia l s | 13
nandez (2012) shows, racial integration in Chicago’s public housing was
achieved by counting Mexican and Puerto Ricans as whites.
In the early twentieth century, Latinos’ exclusion expanded beyond
assumed cultural inferiority as their citizenship status increasingly
came into question. By 1924, this exclusion was embodied in what Mo-
lina (2014) calls an immigration regime, which redefined Mexicans, and
by extension all Latino groups, not only as immigrants but also as un-
documented. It was at this time that the U.S.- Mexico border became
problematized as the source of unauthorized immigration, leading to
the creation of the Border Patrol and the enactment of border enforce-
ment. This assumed illegality extended to U.S.- born Mexicans, many
of whom were deported along with Mexican nationals during the 1930s
and again in the 1950s (Ngai 2004). In the 1990s, the Border Patrol de-
ployed three initiatives to deter unauthorized immigration from Mexico.
Operations Hold the Line, Gatekeeper, and Safeguard led to the exten-
sion of the fence separating the United States and Mexico, increased sur-
veillance along the border, and accelerated processing of those crossing
without authorization. Along with border and immigration enforcement
came other measures aimed at curbing the growth of the Latino popula-
tion, such as the involuntary sterilization of Mexican and Puerto Rican
women (Chavez 2013; Gutierrez 2008; Lopez 2008) and a push to deny
public services and assistance to undocumented immigrants in Califor-
nia through Proposition 187 (Hayes- Bautista 2004; Perea 1997). Most
damaging were a series of federal laws that increasingly restricted im-
migrant rights and extended immigration enforcement. More recently,
there has been promotion of English- only legislation, attempts to dis-
mantle birthright citizenship from children born to immigrant mothers
who are dubbed “anchor babies” (Chavez 2013; Ngai 2007), and recent
local laws that criminalize Latino immigrants (Varsanyi 2010).
The legacy of the racialization of citizenship and Latinos’ status as
alien citizens is manifested today in the public perception of Latinos
as “immigrants,” “foreigners,” and “illegals” (Oboler 1995; Omi and
Winant 2014; Rosaldo 1997; Rosaldo and Flores 1997). “Illegal immi-
grant” has also come to mean “Mexican” and is often applied to anyone
who looks Mexican regardless of legal status or ethnic/national origin
(Chavez 2013; DeGenova 2005; Oboler 1995; Omi and Winant 2014;
Rosaldo 1997; Rosaldo and Flores 1997; Santa Ana 2002). These images

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and assumptions spill into the U.S.- born Latino population and mark its
members also as immigrants and “illegals.” My previous work on youth
participation in the immigrant rights marches of 2006 and 2007 shows
that U.S.- born youths participated due to their racialization as “illegals”
(Flores- González 2010). Despite their citizenship, they continue to be
marked as alien citizens, with both their citizenship and their American-
ness challenged.
The illegalization of Mexicans, and its extension to Latinos, has
been accompanied by the construction of Mexicans— and Latinos in
general— as the most serious threat to American society (Chavez 2013;
Santa Ana 2002). The “brown scare” likens Mexican immigration to in-
vaders who threaten to destroy the American way of life (Santa Ana
2002). Historian Samuel Huntington (2004) exemplified this anti- Latino
sentiment when he argued that Mexicans, and other Latinos, are un-
assimilable because they refuse to adopt the Anglo- Protestant- based
American creed and culture and continue to segregate themselves cul-
turally, geographically, and economically. To him, the persistence of
Mexican ethnicity will be “the end of the America we have known for
more than three centuries” (Huntington 2004, 45). Huntington ignores
the sociohistorical processes and structural factors that define “Amer-
icans” as white and Anglo- Saxon, that shaped and continue to shape
the cultural, geographic, and economic segregation of Latinos, and that
deny Latinos recognition and full rights as members of the polity. The
“Latino threat” has refueled the immigration regime, leading to the mili-
tarization of the U.S.- Mexico border, a record number of deportations
under President Barack Obama’s administration, and calls for deporta-
tion without hearings for unaccompanied minors caught crossing the
border. The Latino threat also powered Donald Trump’s campaign call
to “Make America Great Again” by painting Mexican immigrants— and
by extension all Latinos— as “illegals,” criminals, and rapists and push-
ing for an increase in deportations and the building of a wall to seal off
the U.S.- Mexico border. This rhetoric has led to the construction of un-
documented immigrants as undeserving, and because Mexicans— and
other Latinos— are singled out as the “illegals,” this image casts a shadow
on U.S.- born Latinos in terms of their citizenship and Americanness. It
is in this sociohistorical context that Latino millennials construct no-
tions of national belonging.

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The Hispanic and Latino Category
A prominent feature in the otherization of Latinos as citizens but not
Americans is their classification as a panethnic rather than a racial
group. Their historical racialization as legally white but socially nonwhite
stressed their cultural rather than racial difference from whites, paving
the way for panethnicity to emerge. Despite national origin, racial, class,
linguistic, cultural, gender, and legal status differences, the term “His-
panic” homogenizes people of Latin American ancestry based on their
assumed common heritage and shared cultural traits, particularly the
Spanish language. Research on Hispanic/Latino panethnicity explores
three articulations of panethnicity: institutional, communal, and indi-
vidual. Recognizing these three strands is essential to understand why
Latino millennials embrace panethnic identification along with national
origin identification and often use both as proxies for race.
First, the institutionalization of Hispanic/Latino panethnicity is due
to three different organizational actors who in collusion, but for their
own interests, helped to formalize it as an official category, and led to
its acceptance and widespread use as a descriptor for people of Latin
American descent. In Making Hispanics, Cristina Mora (2014b) poses
that the grouping of Latinos under the Hispanic panethnic category
responded to political, social, and economic interests by three institu-
tional actors: the state, Latino activists, and the media. The state’s early
attempts to identify the Latino population relied on reporting of for-
eign birth or parentage, Spanish language spoken at home, or Spanish
surname. As a result, many Latinos who were of a third or subsequent
generation, did not speak Spanish, or did not have a Spanish surname
(as a result of marriage or intermarriage) were not identified as part of
the Latino population (Chapa 2000). In the era of civil rights, the need
to accurately count and identify Latinos intensified (Chapa 2000), and
the federal government— prompted by Latino activists— adopted the
term “Hispanic” as the legal designation for people of Latin American
ancestry (Hattam 2007; Mora 2014b).
Recognizing the economic, social, and political interests at stake with
the passing of civil rights legislation, Latino activists pushed for, and
embraced, the state’s Hispanic panethnic categorization and efforts to
more accurately count this segment of the population (DeSipio 1996;

16 | R ac e a n d B e l o n g i n g a m o n g L at i n o M i l l e n n ia l s
Mora 2014a; Oboler 1992, 1995). Other grassroots activists rejected the
state’s imposition of the term “Hispanic” due to its direct association
with Spain and its colonial legacy in the Americas and joined the pa-
nethnic movement by coining and adopting the term “Latino” (Calde-
ron 1992). Rodríguez- Muñíz (2015) contends that national civil rights
organizations, regardless of which term they adopted, engaged in the
politics of demography by supporting the enumeration of the Latino
population to justify their claims for legitimacy and political power.
What followed was the evolution of cultural, social, and political single
national origin organizations into panethnic organizations (Itzigsohn
2009; Mora 2014b; Ricourt and Danta 2002). In The Trouble with Unity,
Cristina Beltran (2010) argues that Latino panethnicity gives the illusion
of a unified Latino political body with common political interests and
policy agendas. The challenge of Latino unity, then, lies in how to bring
together people who are perceived to share cultural characteristics but
who sometimes hold different political ideologies and agendas.
In concert with the state and Latino activists, the media and the ad-
vertising industry’s branding and marketing of Hispanics for general
consumption or as a niche market also contributed to the labeling, ho-
mogenization, and institutionalization of Latinos as a distinct panethnic
group (Mora 2014b). Scholars argue that the media creates and re- creates
an “unaccented,” “sanitized,” and “whitewashed” Latino identity free of
intraethnic rivalry by downplaying national origins and renationalizing
them as Hispanic or Latino (Dávila 2008; Mora 2014b; Rodriguez 1997).
Dávila (2001) argues that these “unaccented” images brand and label La-
tinos as a distinct (and foreign) group rather than normalizing them as
part of U.S. society. Dávila (2001, 2008) further argues that commercial
representations of Latinos, although skewed, contribute to the develop-
ment of a cultural identity among Latinos that ultimately distinguishes
them from whites but also from other minorities with whom they share
experiences of racialization.
Second, the basis for the institutionalization of Hispanic/Latino pan-
ethnicity rested on the emotional connections felt by Latinos of differ-
ent national origins. Early panethnic sentiment was grounded on the
similar cultural, social, and political experiences, as well as the com-
mon experiences of migration, discrimination, and low socioeconomic
status that Latinos encountered in the United States, yet the develop-

R ac e a n d B e l o n g i n g a m o n g L at i n o M i l l e n n ia l s | 17
ment of these connections was limited by the historical concentration
of Latino subgroups in different regions of the country (DeSipio 1996).
Growing diversity and dispersal of the Latino population has resulted
in increased contact between Latino groups, leading to what Ricourt
and Danta (2002) call experiential panethnicity, or daily interactions
between Latinos of different national origins who mingle in families,
neighborhoods, school, work, and churches. These convivencias diarias,
or daily- life experiences, strengthen ties and solidarity between groups
(Itzigsohn 2009; Pérez 2003; Ricourt and Danta 2002; Rodríguez- Muñíz
2010; Rúa 2001). As these groups interact, structural differences take
a backseat as commonalities become more salient. Ricourt and Danta
(2002) argue that proximity and daily interaction lead to the develop-
ment of categorical panethnicity as Latinos come to see themselves as
part of one larger group. This sense of Latinidad emerges from the af-
fective ties that form through daily interaction, yet it does not develop at
the expense of national origin identities. That is, panethnic and national
origin identities coexist (Garcia and Rúa 2007; Ricourt and Danta 2002).
Third, the communal sense of Latinidad that emerged through daily
interactions, paired with the increasing institutionalization and popu-
larization of panethnic labels, led to the individual adoption of paneth-
nic identification among Latinos. Studies show that although Latinos
identify primordially by national origin, there is a significant increase
in those who identify panethnically as Hispanic or Latino, particularly
among younger cohorts (Hitlin, Brown, and Elder 2007; Oboler 1992;
Portes and Rumbaut 2001; Telles and Ortiz 2008). Fraga and colleagues
(2010) found that a “supermajority of respondents” strongly identified
with panethnic labels while strongly identifying by national origin too.
Scholars argue that panethnic labels are “addenda” or secondary identi-
ties that are neither instrumental nor an expression of solidarity; rather,
they are all- purpose identities to which Latinos grow attached and
identify with in addition to national origin (Itzigsohn 2004; Itzigsohn
and Dore- Cabral 2000; Jones- Correa and Leal 1996; Oboler 1992; Telles
and Ortiz 2008). They add that Latinos hold a multiplicity of identi-
ties simultaneously and that these identities are not mutually exclusive
and thus provide them with identity options to select from, or activate,
in different contexts depending on the type of interaction and with
whom, where, and when it takes place (Fraga et al. 2010; Itzigsohn 2004;

18 | R ac e a n d B e l o n g i n g a m o n g L at i n o M i l l e n n ia l s
McConnell and Delgado- Romero 2004; Rodriguez 2000; Schmidt,
Barvosa- Carter, and Torres 2000). Recent research points to the ra-
cial connotations of panethnic labels as shown in their increased use
for racial identification (Dowling 2014; Flores- González, Aranda, and
Vaquera 2014; Flores- González 1999; Frank, Akresh, and Lu 2010; Hit-
lin, Brown, and Elder 2007; Itzigsohn 2004; Perez and Hirschman 2009;
Roth 2012).
Factors such as nativity, language use, age, gender, education, reli-
gious affiliation, generation, discrimination, national origin, region, seg-
regation, and skin color affect Latinos’ identity choices (Campbell and
Rogalin 2006; Eschbach and Gomez 1998; Golash- Boza 2006; Holley et
al. 2009; Jones- Correa and Leal 1996; Perez and Hirschman 2009; Portes
and Rumbaut 2001; Telles and Ortiz 2008). Taylor et al. (2012) found
that nativity and language are the “strongest predictors of identity pref-
erences” among Latinos. Foreign birth (and having foreign- born par-
ents), living in the Southwest region, living in a predominantly Latino
neighborhood, having Spanish spoken at home, having darker skin, and
experiencing discrimination are factors that strengthen national origin
identification (Portes and Rumbaut 2001; Taylor et al. 2012; Telles and
Ortiz 2008). Panethnic identities are most common among native- born
individuals who grew up after the civil rights movement, who speak
Spanish at home, who live in a city with a large Latino population, and
who have experienced discrimination (Campbell and Rogalin 2006; Ma-
suoka 2006; Perez and Hirschman 2009; Telles and Ortiz 2008). In a
study of second- generation adolescents of Latin America, Caribbean,
and Asian origin, Rumbaut (1994) found that panethnic identification is
higher among youths who are female, are native- born, are not affluent,
are inner- city residents, and have experienced discrimination. These pa-
nethnic identities are also more common among those of mixed Latino
origin (Aparicio 2016; Flores- González 1999; Rúa 2001).
Other studies show that panethnic identification is more marked
among younger U.S.- born Latinos than among immigrants and older
U.S.- born Latinos (Hitlin, Brown, and Elder 2007; Oboler 1992; Portes
and Rumbaut 2001; Telles and Ortiz 2008). These intergenerational dif-
ferences reflect these individuals’ personal experiences growing up. Im-
migrants can summon a national identity based on their experiences
growing up in their home countries, but those in the second generation

R ac e a n d B e l o n g i n g a m o n g L at i n o M i l l e n n ia l s | 19
have only their U.S.- based experiences. In addition to generational dif-
ferences, there are cohort differences that account for younger Latinos’
greater ease in identifying panethnically. These youths have grown up
at a time when these terms are already institutionalized and are part of
everyday life, making them more likely to embrace this identity.
The Chicago Context
The Chicago area, with its confluence of demographic, social, and politi-
cal dynamics, presents a unique site for studying Latino identity, and
particularly panethnicity among Latino millennials. For the past seventy
years, Chicago has consistently held one of the largest concentrations of
Latinos in the nation. With more than 2 million Latinos, the Chicago
Metropolitan Area (CMA) now has the fifth- largest Latino population
in the nation, and Cook County— where Chicago is located— ranks
fourth in the nation (Brown and Lopez 2013). Latinos’ share of the Chi-
cago population grew from 14 percent to 28.9 percent from 1980 to 2010.
The concentration of Latinos in suburban Chicago has precipitously
increased in the past two decades. Attracted by job opportunities, Latin
American immigrants, mostly Mexican, are bypassing the city and set-
tling in these new suburban Chicago destinations, as well as exurban
and rural communities farther from the city core. The suburbanization
of Latinos was evident by 2004, when 54 percent of Latinos in the state
lived in Chicago’s suburbs (Ready and Brown- Gort 2005). By 2010, 57
percent of Latinos lived in the suburbs and constituted 18 percent of the
suburban population (Guzman et al. 2010). In suburban Cook County,
the Latino population grew by 46.5 percent from 2000 to 2010 (Sledge
2011).
Chicago’s Latino population is characterized by its youthfulness,
U.S. birth, and citizenship status. According to the Pew Hispanic Cen-
ter (2010), the median age among Chicago Latinos is twenty- eight, but
there are marked age differences by nativity: the foreign- born median
age is thirty- nine, while the U.S.- born median age is sixteen. A whop-
ping 82 percent of Latinos aged twenty- nine or under are U.S.- born, and
93 percent of Latinos aged seventeen and under are U.S.- born. Around
58 percent of the CMA Latino population is U.S.- born, and 73 percent
of Latinos in the CMA are citizens. Among the foreign- born, 60 per-

20 | R ac e a n d B e l o n g i n g a m o n g L at i n o M i l l e n n ia l s
cent are adults, two- thirds arrived in the United States after 1990, and 31
percent are naturalized U.S. citizens. There are roughly equal numbers
of male and female Latinos in the CMA, although men slightly outnum-
ber women aged twenty- five to thirty- nine. The magnitude of Latinos’
youthfulness and growing numbers is best captured in school enroll-
ment figures. In the CMA, Latinos make up 29 percent of the student
population (Guzman et al. 2010). In the Chicago Public Schools, Latinos
constitute 45 percent of the student population. In the suburban CMA,
Latino enrollment increased 60 percent over the past decade, bringing
the Latino student population up to 23 percent (Guzman et al. 2010).
Additionally, the two local four- year public universities are Hispanic-
Serving Institutions.
Chicago’s importance in Latino historiography does not lie solely
in its relevance as a traditional Latino immigrant gateway, or the sheer
numbers of Latinos, or the youthfulness of its population, but rather
on the historical diversity of the Latino population in the city and the
intra- Latino dynamics that fostered the early development of Latino pa-
nethnicity. Unlike other U.S. regions where single Latino populations
predominated until the past two decades, major Latino groups have had
a historical presence in Chicago since the 1940s with the establishment
of Mexican and Puerto Rican communities and a smaller but significant
Cuban presence by 1970 (Fernandez 2012; Innis- Jiménez 2013; F. Padilla
1985). Since the 1980s, increasing numbers of Guatemalans, Ecuador-
ians, and a sprinkling of other Latino groups have made Chicago their
home. In 2010, the Latino population in the CMA was overwhelmingly
Mexican (84 percent) but had a significant Puerto Rican population (10
percent) and smaller numbers of Guatemalan, Ecuadorian, Colombian,
and other Latino groups (Brown and Lopez 2013).
Despite national diversity among Latinos in Chicago, these groups
share a similar context of reception marked by their racialization as
“other” in a racially divided city. Fernandez (2012) argues that the Mexi-
can and Puerto Rican experiences in Chicago have much in common.
Both groups became pawns in the racial stratification that characterizes
the city: from residential segregation to employment discrimination.
Upon arrival in Chicago, these groups concentrated in different parts of
the city, but these early communities were not isolated from each other
as racial discrimination often brought Mexicans, Puerto Ricans, and Cu-

R ac e a n d B e l o n g i n g a m o n g L at i n o M i l l e n n ia l s | 21
bans together at the few Catholic churches, restaurants, and dance halls
that welcomed them and on factory floors (E. Padilla 1947; F. Padilla
1985). Today, Latino groups continue to concentrate in particular areas
of the city; however, in these areas, Latinos of different national origins
increasingly live and work side by side and attend the same schools and
churches. The increasing diversification of the Latino population means
that Latino millennials are more likely to interact with members of other
Latino groups more often and in diverse contexts.
The cohabitation of multiple Latino groups for the past six decades
has had a profound effect on intra- Latino dynamics in Chicago (see
Aparicio 2016; DeGenova and Ramos- Zayas 2003; Fernandez 2012; E.
Padilla 1947; F. Padilla 1985; Pallares and Flores- González 2010; Pérez
2003; Rúa 2001). Indeed, the presence of diverse Latino groups with
common struggles of displacement and discrimination led to early ex-
pressions of Latino panethnicity in Chicago. In a pioneering study of
Puerto Ricans and Mexicans Elena Padilla (1947), documented a grow-
ing panethnic sentiment— in spite of some tension— among Mexican
and Puerto Ricans in the 1940s. Despite early manifestations of Latini-
dad— a shared sense of identity— she incorrectly predicted that Puerto
Ricans would become absorbed by the Mexican population. Forty years
later, Felix Padilla argued in his seminal work Latino Ethnic Conscious-
ness (1985) that a panethnic political awareness among Mexican and
Puerto Rican activists, which he labeled “Latinismo,” had developed in
Chicago. Fueled by shared experiences of discrimination, and deploying
a discourse of cultural similarity, Mexicans and Puerto Ricans rallied
together to fight for their educational, political, and economic rights (F.
Padilla 1985). Felix Padilla argued that although the basis of commonal-
ity for Puerto Ricans and Mexicans lay in their assumed cultural similar-
ity, the driving force for Latinismo was a common fate as marginalized
and maligned that led to temporary political coalitions between these
groups.
Studying the interaction between Mexicans and Puerto Ricans in
Chicago, DeGenova and Ramos- Zayas (2003) argue that the “unequal
politics of citizenship”— signified by Puerto Ricans’ undeniable status as
U.S. citizens and Mexicans’ questionable legal status— stand in the way
of long- lasting panethnic unity. Other scholars acknowledge the role
of citizenship in Chicago’s Latino intradynamics but downplay its sa-

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lience, arguing that Latinidad is not necessarily fraught with contention
over the issue of citizenship (Aparicio 2016, 2016; Flores- González and
Rodríguez- Muníz 2014; Garcia and Rúa 2007; Pérez 2003; Rodríguez-
Muñíz 2010; Rúa 2001). Pérez (2003) found that Puerto Rican and Mexi-
can women in Chicago hold strong opinions about each other: while
Mexican women view Puerto Rican women as rencorosas (spiteful),
Puerto Rican women view Mexican women as sufridas (long- suffering
women). Despite holding these opinions, Puerto Rican and Mexican
women got along and often had very close relationships with each other
through community, work, or familial ties. In a study of ethnic festivals
in Chicago, Garcia and Rúa (2007) noticed the deployment of both na-
tional and panethnic identities at ethnic festivals that, although fraught
with some tension, did not lead to intergroup rivalry but rather to toler-
ance, providing spaces for their concurrent expression and coexistence.
Also, research on the 2006 immigrant marches in Chicago show that by
construing racialized experiences as “similar, but not identical,” Puerto
Ricans were moved to join this “Mexican” political struggle (Rodríguez-
Muñíz 2010; Flores- González and Rodríguez- Muñíz 2014). In a study of
Mexican and Puerto Rican student interaction in a Chicago high school,
Rosa (2014, 37) found what Rivera- Servera (2012) calls frictive intimacy,
or the development of “intimate knowledge of both Mexicanness and
Puerto Ricanness . . . often reflected in the invocation of various stereo-
types about one another’s physical appearance, musical tastes, styles of
dress, and language use.” He also found that despite recognizing these
differences and asserting their own national identities, these youths
identified panethnically and found a common ground. This historical
context of panethnic identity formation informs Chicago Latino millen-
nials’ notions on identity and belonging.
Latino Millennials
To fully grasp why the young participants in my study see themselves
as citizens but not Americans, I utilize the concept of “generations”
as an analytical lens. A generational approach to the study of Latino
racialization may include “generation since immigration,” “generations
over time,” “generation as an age- group,” and/or “generation as a his-
torical cohort.” Studies on “generation since immigration” compare the

R ac e a n d B e l o n g i n g a m o n g L at i n o M i l l e n n ia l s | 23
first, second, third, and subsequent generations, or they lump these
groups into the foreign- born (first- generation) and the native- born
(second- or later- generation) populations. For example, Wendy Roth,
in Race Migrations: Latinos and the Cultural Transformation of Race
(2012), compares changing notions of race among Puerto Rican and
Dominican immigrants and nonimmigrants “back home.” Julie Dowl-
ing’s Mexican Americans and the Race Question (2014) examines racial
identification among immigrant and U.S.- born Mexican- origin adults
in three Texas locations. And Tomás Jiménez’s Replenished Ethnicity:
Mexican Americans, Immigration, and Identity (2010) studies integra-
tion among “later- generation” or “third and subsequent generation”
Mexican Americans who trace their family settlement in the United
States to prior to 1940.
Other studies take on a “generations over time” approach that focuses
on different familial generations— that is, differences between grandpar-
ents, parents, and children within the same family. For example, Jessica
Vasquez’s Mexican Americans across Generations: Immigrant Families,
Racial Realities (2011) examines racial identity formation in three gen-
erations within the same families. In their groundbreaking book Gen-
erations of Exclusion: Mexican Americans, Assimilation, and Race (2008),
Edward Telles and Vilma Ortiz utilize a two- dimensional lens by focus-
ing on “generation since immigration” and “generation over time” in
their analysis of intergenerational integration among Mexican Ameri-
cans in Los Angeles and San Antonio.
The “generation as an age- group” lens examines Latino racialization
and integration by dividing the population into different age- groups,
such as “seventeen and under” and “eighteen or over,” or focusing on
a particular age- group. Most notable among these works is Alejandro
Portes and Ruben Rumbaut’s book Legacies: The Story of the Immigrant
Second Generation (2001), which focuses on different measures of ac-
culturation (such as educational attainment, language, racial identifi-
cation, and mobility) among second- generation youths in Miami and
San Diego.
Finally, research on Latino “social generations” or “cohorts” focuses
on Latinos who were born, and came of age, during a particular his-
torical time and thus share a common social, economic, and political
context. Carlos Munoz’s groundbreaking book Youth, Identity, Power:

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The Chicano Movement (2007) details the historic struggles of Chicano
youths during the civil rights era. More recently, Brokered Boundaries:
Immigrant Identity in Anti- immigrant Times (2010), by Douglas Massey
and Magaly Sanchez, examines how current political, social, and eco-
nomic conditions shape identity among first- and second- generation
Latinos. Differently from these studies, I use “generation” as a multidi-
mensional analytical lens to examine how a historical moment shapes
how those in a particular “social generation” (Latino millennials), “gen-
erational age- group” (fourteen- to thirty- year- olds at the time of the
study), and “generation since immigration” (U.S.- born second or third
generation) experience racialization and understand their place in U.S.
society.
Generally, the term “millennials” (or, as they are often called, Genera-
tion Y or Generation Next) refers to people born between 1980 and 1995.
Millennials are sometimes referred to as the “net” or “digital” genera-
tion or as “digital natives” because they are the first generation to grow
up with computer technology and to use social media to connect with
others (Bennett, Maton, and Kervin 2008; Dungy 2011; Pew Research
Center 2014). Dungy (2011) identified this generation’s defining mo-
ments as September 11, 2001, high school and campus shootings, mobile
phones and social networks, YouTube, Wikipedia, the 2008 recession,
and the election of Barack Obama as president of the United States. As
a group, millennials are by far the most racially diverse and politically
liberal generation and generally support same- sex marriage, interracial
marriage, and the legalization of marijuana; this generation is also more
economically insecure and faces more debt and lower economic pros-
pects than previous generations (Pew Research Center 2014).
Latino millennials share many of the traits that characterize the mil-
lennial generation more generally, but racialization processes shape their
social, economic, and political experiences in particular ways. We need
to take into account these cohort- specific experiences to understand
why Latino millennials see their position in U.S. society as marginal. The
social, economic, and political moments that mark Latino millennials
differ from those of previous cohorts. The Latino baby boomers, born
between 1946 and 1964, consisted mostly of Mexicans and Puerto Ricans
who grew up during the post– World War II economic boom and came
of age in the civil rights era. They were raised by “Mexican American

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generation” parents who emphasized assimilation as the road to mobil-
ity. Failing to achieve mobility, they became politicized during the civil
rights era and made demands for equality through organizations such
as the American G.I. Forum, the Brown Berets, and the Young Lords.
Born between 1965 and 1980, the Latino Generation X reaped the
gains from the expanding educational and economic opportunities that
resulted from civil rights legislation and affirmative action programs.
This generation also witnessed an increase in immigration from Central
America, South America, and the Caribbean that diversified Latino com-
munities, and the enactment of the Immigration Reform and Control
Act (IRCA) of 1986, which granted permanent residence and set 2.7 mil-
lion undocumented immigrants on the path to citizenship— the bulk of
whom were Latinos. Despite these gains, Generation Xers were tainted
with notions of juvenile superpredators that cast black and Latino youths
as a new breed of violent and remorseless criminals that led to stricter
zero- tolerance and three- strike laws, lengthier sentences, trial of minors
as adults, and increasing rates of incarceration for minority youths.
As a result of increased Central and South American migration start-
ing in the 1980s, Latino millennials— born roughly between 1980 and
1995— are the most diverse Latino generational cohort. Reflecting this
diversity, as well as political and media influences, they grew up with the
terms “Hispanic” and “Latino” in the popular lexicon and in everyday
life. Latino millennials are also a generation whose members have in-
creasingly grown up away from traditional immigrant gateways, in new
immigrant destinations in suburban and rural areas. Although some
of their families benefited from the IRCA, what they remember is the
increasingly restrictive national and local immigration policies and en-
forcement following the passing of the Illegal Immigration Reform and
Immigrant Responsibility Act (IIRIRA) of 1996, which led to increased
enforcement and securitization at the U.S.- Mexico border, as well as
an increase in raids, detention, and deportations nationwide. They did
not have to live near the border to feel the impact of federal policies, as
state and local enforcement made many communities unwelcoming for
immigrants. Nor did they have to be immigrants themselves to be af-
fected by enforcement and the growing nativist sentiment that targeted
“Latino- looking” people. The terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001,
were another formative moment for many Latino millennials, further

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fueling anti- immigrant sentiment and exacerbating restrictive immigra-
tion policy and enforcement in the form of the Homeland Security Act
of 2002.
Despite a restrictive political environment, Latino millennials also
witnessed the unprecedented mobilizations for immigrant rights that
swept the nation during the spring of 2006 (see Voss and Bloemraad
2011; Pallares and Flores- González 2010). H.R. 4437— popularly known
as the Sensenbrenner Bill— which sought to reclassify undocumented
status as a felony and to criminalize anyone who assisted the undocu-
mented, prompted many millennials to engage politically for the first
time by joining these protests (Flores- González 2010). These mobiliza-
tions also crystallized the meaning of citizenship and its protections and
marked many Latino millennials’ initiation into politics. While Latino
millennials supported the election of Barack Obama to the presidency
with hopes that he would deliver comprehensive immigration reform,
Obama’s presidency stepped up immigration enforcement and carried
out unprecedented numbers of deportations, furthering Latino racial-
ization. These social and political events have profoundly shaped how
Latino millennials understand their place in U.S. society.
The Study
My interest in this topic stems from a mixture of personal and pro-
fessional experiences. Despite being a U.S. citizen by birth and being
“assimilated” in many dimensions— highly educated, proficient in Eng-
lish, intermarried, middle- class, living in the suburbs— and being a
light- skinned Latina who “passes” as white as long as I do not speak
or reveal my name, I do not identify as American or as white. This is
partly due to being born and raised on “the Island” (Puerto Rico), where
“Americans” are clearly defined as (mostly white) people from the main-
land. But to a large extent it is also due to my experiences as a Latina
in the mainland, where my “otherness” comes out in daily interactions.
During almost two decades as a professor and researcher, and despite
being a Generation Xer, I find that my former Xer and current millen-
nial U.S.- born Latino students also feel at odds claiming an American
identity. I also found this feeling among Latino youths who participated
in the massive immigrant rights mobilizations that took place in Chicago

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in 2006 and 2007 (Flores- González 2010). In- depth interviews with sixty
U.S.- born Latino youths who participated in these marches showed that
their participation was motivated by their and their family’s exclusion
from the imagined American community (see Flores- González 2010).
Many of the youths talked about being “U.S.- born but not American,”
or being a “different kind of American.” Wondering if this sentiment was
shared mostly by those who are politically active, or if it is a widespread
sentiment among Latinos, I developed a second set of interviews that
delved more deeply into issues of identity and belonging among ninety-
seven U.S.- born Latino youths, both participants and nonparticipants in
the immigrant rights mobilizations. From this second set of interviews
emerged a more complex picture of the impact of racialization on Latino
subjectivity as citizens but not Americans. Although it is informed by
the first set of interviews, this book is based on the second set.
My analysis is based on ninety- seven in- depth interviews with U.S.-
born Latino millennials in Chicago conducted from February to May
2009. The criteria for participation were being a U.S.- born citizen of
Latin American ancestry and being between the ages of fourteen and
thirty. Participants varied in generational status: seventy- four were
second- generation, twenty- two were third- generation, and one was
fourth- generation. National origin distribution among participants
roughly resembles the composition of the Latino population in the Chi-
cago area: Mexican, 70 percent; Puerto Rican, 7 percent; Ecuadorian,
2.6 percent; Guatemalan, 2.6 percent; Colombian, 2.6 percent; Cuban,
1.7 percent; Dominican, 0.8 percent; Peruvian, 0.8 percent; Costa Rican,
0.8 percent; Argentinian, 0.8 percent; Bolivian, 0.8 percent; and the re-
maining 9 percent of mixed national origin (Mexican white, Mexican
Puerto Rican, Mexican Guatemalan, Mexican Cuban, Puerto Rican Bra-
zilian, Mexican Argentinian). Fifty- nine of the youths grew up and live
in the city of Chicago, twenty- six grew up in the suburban CMA, six
were from satellite cities (Aurora, Joliet, Peoria), and five grew up out of
state (one of the youths did not provide this information). Sixty- one of
the youths were college students, thirteen had college degrees and were
employed in professional jobs, eighteen youths had not attended college
and worked in factories or in technical, sales, or service jobs, and five
were high school students. Fifty- two were young women and forty- five
were young men. Only four of the youths were members of mixed- status

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families (at least one parent is undocumented), and the rest had parents
who either were citizens by birth or naturalization or had permanent
legal residency.
The study subjects were recruited by referral and snowball sampling
in which undergraduate research assistants used their social networks to
identify potential participants. This strategy resulted in the recruitment
of Latino youths living in different contexts within the CMA— ranging
from Latino city neighborhoods to white suburban communities. Ex-
panding recruitment from the city to the near suburbs yielded par-
ticipants from a single Latino national origin as well as youths from
interethnic, interracial, and mixed- status families. The interviews,
which were conducted in English, ranged in length from forty to ninety
minutes. All participants were assigned pseudonyms, and in some in-
stances a few details about their lives that are not relevant to the analysis
were altered to ensure confidentiality. All interviews were transcribed
and initially coded by the undergraduate research assistants to identify
general themes. I conducted four additional rounds of coding, with the
initial round focused on identifying general themes, the second round
on breaking down these themes into subthemes, a third round to further
analyze these subthemes, and a fourth round that focused on each the-
matic category as a whole. In addition, a research assistant recoded the
interviews, checking for consistency and accuracy. The interview guide
was divided into five main areas: demographics, identity, family history,
transnational links, and political socialization and participation, with
particular questions on participants’ views on, engagement with, and
participation in immigration- related issues. In this book, I focus mainly
on the identity section, which includes questions on self- identification
and the meaning given to ethnicity, race, citizenship, and Americanness,
and the impact that everyday racializing experiences have on identity.
Although I concentrate on the identity section, the data presented and
the analysis also draw from other sections of the interviews.
Organization of the Book
In this introductory chapter, I have presented the three themes that
marked these youths’ sense of alienation from political and social mem-
bership in the American imagined community, situated my study within

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the broader theoretical frameworks on race and belonging, and pro-
vided methodological and analytical details of this project. In the rest
of the book, I delve deeper into why and how the Latino millennials
whose stories are portrayed here understand themselves as citizens but
not Americans.
Chapter 2 provides a detailed account of these youths’ encounters
with everyday racism. I frame this chapter as the racial politics of race
and space in order to examine how the physical and cultural charac-
teristics that make Latino millennials visible also mark them as racial,
cultural, and national others. This othering in turn casts doubts on their
right to belong in particular places and spaces marked as white and
erodes their feelings of belonging.
Chapter 3 examines the complexities of ethnic and racial identifica-
tion among Latino millennials. In this chapter, I provide a critique of
the conceptual split of ethnicity and race in sociological theory by ar-
guing that these concepts fail to capture how Latino millennials think
about their social categorization. I posit that Linda Martin Alcoff ’s
(2009) call to think of Latinos as an ethnoracial group provides a more
suitable framework for understanding the social positioning of Latinos
in a society in which race is a primary means of social categorization,
and where not having a suitable racial category makes Latinos invisible
and marginal, contributing to the feeling that they are citizens but not
Americans.
In chapter 4, I put to the test popular assumptions about the U.S.
racial structure as a binary characterized by a sharp color line divid-
ing whites on top from blacks at the bottom, or as a triracial structure
with a single intermediate “catchall” racial middle. Latino millennials
conceptualize themselves as one of multiple intermediate racial catego-
ries occupied by Asians, Latinos, Arab Americans, and American Indi-
ans, respectively. They also conceptualize Latinos collectively as a racial
middle, but individual location along this racial middle varies accord-
ing to personal characteristics, most notably skin color and phenotype.
Overall, I argue that to continue to subsume Latinos under the white or
black side of the color line, or lump them together with other groups in
the racial middle, glosses over these youths’ particular experiences of
racialization and contributes to their sense of racial exclusion and mar-
ginalization from the American imagined community.

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In chapter 5, I examine how Latino millennials conceptualize the po-
litical and social aspects of belonging to the American imagined com-
munity. Despite being citizens by birth, these youths do not meet the
ethnoracial markers associated with Americanness and thus face ex-
clusion in their everyday lives. Elaborating on the cultural citizenship
framework, I argue that these youths engage in what I call ethnoracial
citizenship by deploying familiar American tropes to challenge their ex-
clusion and demand to be seen and treated as “Americans.”
Finally, chapter 6 brings together these three themes— Latinos as
an ethnorace, Latinos as a racial middle, and Latinos as “real” Ameri-
cans— to provide a theoretical alternative to current discourses on race
and belonging. Bringing race front and center, I utilize the case of La-
tino millennials to show how particular events shape the ways in which
members of this population makes sense of their place in U.S. society.

31
2
Latinos and the Racial Politics of Place and Space
The narratives of Latino millennials illustrate the geography of racial
politics in everyday life— or how places and spaces are racially marked.
The bulk of these youths’ racial experiences happen in “white” places
and spaces where they are made to feel unwelcome and where their
presence is questioned. When asked about his experiences of racism,
Raúl, a twenty- one- year- old second- generation Mexican, put it this way:
“Very direct racism, which might have been physical or any other form,
I wouldn’t say that I have [an] exact recollection of that. But I would
say that I have felt instances in which I was treated differently for the
way that I looked. I guess even the pronunciation of my own name. . . .
I think that immediately distinguishes you in a bad way and you cause
sort of a social disruption.” Raúl’s narrative points to the indirect and
subtle racism that characterizes the post– civil rights era. By stating that
his very presence causes “social disruption,” Raúl implies that his trans-
gression into white places and spaces is unsettling for whites. He goes on
to illustrate this further:
If a white person is going to a cultural event, they might see it as a
hobby, or something exotic for them to see and experience, and not
really value it. Almost just like an exhibit at a museum. Whereas if
it was the opposite, me going to a predominantly white people social
event or cultural event, I think immediately I would be made sure to
feel out of place or that I didn’t [belong] there. Where in a sense, they
expect the exact opposite. They often like to say that some events are
exclusionist, and that’s only when they don’t like to [feel] excluded or
not wanted. But when the opposite happens, when a colored person
tries to go to a [white] social event or cultural event, I think they’re
immediately told, or [they sense] that they don’t [belong] there be-
cause of the lack of interactions they might have within that cultural
event.

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Raúl denounces the double standard whereby whites often feel entitled
to occupy any place and space regardless of its racial marking while non-
whites often are unwelcomed in white places and spaces. He likens whites
to anthropologists and colonialists because they want “to study and sub-
ject my culture and objectify it for their own means, and then, they have
the power to define it and misconstrue it as they liked.” Raúl points to the
unequal politics of race that gives whites license to intrude and appro-
priate any place and space. He also implies that exclusion is viewed as a
problem only when whites feel uncomfortable in social situations— yet the
constant exclusion of nonwhites is unproblematic for whites.
Raul’s feeling of being a trespasser in white places and spaces is com-
monplace among Latino millennials. Most of the stories covered in this
chapter attest to the geography of racial politics that imbues places and
spaces with racial meaning. Contesting the popular rhetoric of color
blindness, the narratives show that there are no race- neutral places and
spaces. Like Raul’s, these young people’s stories expose a racial poli-
tics dominated by whites who feel they can move without contestation
across settings— including nonwhite ones. Although most instances of
discrimination happen when Latino millennials “trespass” into white
places and spaces, they also happen in nonwhite settings.
In theory, the racial segregation that characterized the politics of
place and race during the Jim Crow era dissipated with the civil rights
movement. In reality, public spaces continue to be racially marked. As
Lipsitz (2011) argues, places and spaces are racially distinct and sustain
racial understandings of who belongs, and even places and spaces that
appear to be race neutral are racially marked. Most public spaces and
institutions are marked as white, and the presence of nonwhites elic-
its negative nonverbal, verbal, and physical reactions from whites that
are meant to make nonwhite others feel unwelcome or out of bounds
(E. Anderson 2015; Feagin and Cobas 2014). My interviews with Latino
millennials show that public places and spaces are still constructed in
exclusionary ways. As these millennials’ narratives illustrate, the bulk
of their racial experiences occur in white places and spaces, where they
are made to feel like trespassers. I found that the racial politics of place
and space are manifested in three overlapping and intertwined ways: the
racial politics of visibility, the racial politics of othering, and the racial
politics of belonging. Distinctions between these three categories are not

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always clear- cut— rather, there is a great deal of overlap, and experiences
could fit into more than one category. I also found that the frequency
and intensity of racial experiences depend on the racial context, as well
as on individual characteristics (e.g., skin color, gender, language). In
this chapter, I sift through the Latino millennials’ racial experiences to
show the effect of the racial politics of place and space on these youths’
sense of belonging to the imagined American community.
The Racial Politics of Visibility
The racial politics of visibility is prominent in Latino millennials’ nar-
ratives. By visibility, I mean the physical and linguistic features that
made these youths identifiable as Latinos. I found that racial experi-
ences often had the dual effect of rendering these youths invisible and/or
hypervisible— and often both simultaneously. Most forms of discrimina-
tion make them hypervisible by highlighting their physical or cultural
differences, drawing attention to their presence, or making them stand
out. Some forms of discrimination make them invisible simply by ignor-
ing or not acknowledging their presence, yet this invisibility turns them
into the “elephant in the room” because everyone “sees” them but does
not acknowledge their presence. What is damaging about these racial
politics of visibility is that these youths are always “on”: because most
places and spaces are marked as white, Latino millennials, being ren-
dered invisible or hypervisible, consistently stand out from the crowd,
are singled out as the other, and are made to feel that they do not belong.
The racial politics of visibility tends to play out in predominantly
white spaces where Latinos stand out and is also expressed in physical
language such as the stares that Latino millennials encounter when en-
tering white places and spaces that make them hypervisible. Stares often
happens in “ultrawhite” settings; these spaces are all or nearly all white,
are rarely frequented by nonwhites, and are places where nonwhites are
not usually welcomed. Hypervisibility is best exemplified by the cliché of
people turning around to stare at a newcomer walking into a restaurant.
Mariana, a twenty- three- year- old second- generation Mexican, recalls
her first experience being stared at when she and her family went to a
restaurant in Wisconsin. She says, “It was like the first day I was there,
and there is like one Hispanic in that whole population there. Me and

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my family went to this restaurant, and everyone in there turned around
and stared. And it was crazy! I had never really experienced that before.
I had lived in Chicago before that, and it’s so diverse here and it was just
so weird, and my family and I were ‘OK, this is awkward.’” That Mari-
ana is familiar with the diversity of Chicago accentuated her shock at
being hypervisible, which led to feeling “awkward,” uncomfortable, and
unwelcomed.
Stares do not occur only in restaurants; they are also very common in
stores, where Latino youths’ hypervisibility often makes them feel un-
comfortable and constructs them as trespassers. Sandy, a twenty- one-
year- old second- generation Bolivian, points to the incessant stares she
gets while shopping. She says, “Thankfully, I have not experienced dis-
crimination like straightforward. But there has been, like, the situation
where I go to a store, and it’s all predominately white, and if I go in there,
no one says anything, but you can tell by the way that they stare at you,
or like you could tell the awkwardness. Like they might be thinking,
‘What is she doing here?,’ but I never faced it, like no person has ever
said anything racist to me, but just like the atmosphere. Sometimes the
way they look at you, or their stares!” For Sandy, this hypervisibility—
prompted by unwelcoming stares— makes her feel uneasy and out of
place.
Although a single individual may sneak by without causing others
to raise an eyebrow, or may be largely ignored and rendered invisible,
avoiding stares is more difficult when a young Latino person is accom-
panied by another Latino. The invisibility of one turns into the hypervis-
ibility of many. Among the millennials, young women were more able
to fly under the radar when alone, whereas young men tended to attract
more attention. Esther, a twenty- one- year- old second- generation Ecua-
dorian, explains that people do not stare at her when she is alone but do
so “when I’m with people of my same race.” Dori, a nineteen- year- old
second- generation Mexican, also observes that she is stared at when her
father, who is “Mexican- looking,” is present. Like Esther’s, other youths’
narratives show that Latinos may be invisible when they are alone but
that they become hypervisible when they are with other Latinos.
Other mundane activities such as taking public transportation also
involve the racial politics of visibility. For instance, Teresa, a twenty- one-
year- old second generation Mexican Argentinian, notices that when she

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takes the commuter train— a white racial space— “those who are white
will not sit next to me even if there are no seats left in the train.” José,
a twenty- eight- year- old second- generation Mexican Cuban, makes a
similar observation; when in the train, he feels “a lot of tension when
it’s like people from the ’burbs, white folks. . . . Nobody will sit next to
you on the train unless you look like them. They sit with their own kind.
So even the train is like a smaller model of society. It’s like segregated
trains.” While there are no verbal interactions, physical language cues
Teresa and José into the racial politics of the suburban “white” train and
the seeming invisibility— yet glaringly obvious presence— of Latinos in
this white public space.
Latino millennials also recounted incidents of invisibility at
establishments— such as stores and restaurants— in which they were
paid no attention while store workers catered to other customers who
were white. Liz, a twenty- six- year- old second- generation Mexican, tells
of being ignored while shopping in an upscale store. She says that she
has “been attended to last or given little to no attention at some high- end
retail stores compared to many of the Caucasian customers. One time
at Neiman Marcus I asked for a saleswoman’s help, and she completely
ignored me and took an older- looking Caucasian woman ahead of me
when I know for a fact I was there before.” Although age could have been
a factor leading to the slight, Liz did not believe that she was ignored in
deference to an elderly person but rather in deference to a white person.
Indeed, other research, such as that by Feagin and Cobas (2014), shows
that clerks often ignore Latino customers because they believe Latinos
cannot afford the merchandise.
Latino millennials also told stories about their invisibility at res-
taurants. Arielle, a twenty- one- year- old second- generation Mexican,
vividly recalls an incident that happened during her childhood, which
exemplifies the racial politics of visibility:
One time when my family and I were at a restaurant, I was younger [and]
we were like a family of five and we got there before the other family. The
waitress was an American, [a] white woman, and the other family was
white. I am sure we got there first. We were waiting a longer time and this
family came after us, and the lady automatically sat them first until my
mother told the lady, “Look, you know, we were here first, and you just

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went and sat these people.” She did not answer my mom, she acted like
she was busy and she did not hear her.
Adding insult to injury, not only did Arielle’s family become invis-
ible, but her mother was blatantly ignored and deemed invisible when
she complained to the hostess. Michael, a twenty- seven- year- old
third- generation Puerto Rican, recalls his friends’ experience at a pre-
dominantly white restaurant where their initial invisibility turned into
rude service: “Servers wouldn’t come to their table. I mean like, bla-
tantly. One of them told me that they ordered a meal, and they ordered
the meal because they saw someone else eating it, and they were told
that they didn’t serve that meal anymore.” While there could be non-
discriminatory reasons for the subpar service— such as a busy shift or
running out of the menu item— the frequency of these experiences vali-
dates these youths’ interpretation of the incidents as discrimination.
Similarly, Dolores, a twenty- eight- year- old fourth- generation Mexi-
can, recounts a restaurant incident that left a deep impression. After a
long day of sightseeing in San Francisco, her family stumbled into what
seemed like a family- friendly restaurant only to be ignored and then
treated rudely. As Dolores recalls:
I don’t know if it was the way we were dressed or the fact that we did
look Hispanic, because my grandmother was with us, and my dad, my
mom and my sisters and all that, but we were treated so badly there. It
was obvious that we were the only ones being treated badly. We weren’t
being attended to. The waiter was just downright rude to us. It felt like,
“What have we done? What are we doing?” And we really couldn’t think
of anything [that we were doing that would lead to this treatment], so I
wanna say that it was because we looked different than everybody else in
there because everybody else in there was white and blond and very, very
Anglo- looking. And it kind of hit our whole family [all] at once.
Being the only nonwhite customers, it was not difficult for Dolores and
her family to figure out that they were being singled out— first by being
ignored and later by being treated rudely— because they were Latinos
and not because they were underdressed. Their invisibility and the ensu-
ing poor service they receive at stores and restaurants convey to youths

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like Liz, Arielle, Michael, and Dolores that they do not belong in these
white places and spaces.
Being ignored— or being deemed invisible— happens in other con-
texts as well, such as when applying to or interviewing for a job. Mary, a
nineteen- year- old third- generation Mexican, recounts her experience at
a job interview: “I got there before two other white people did, and the
white woman saw me sitting there, but instead of choosing me to come
in first, she waited and chose one of the white girls that was supposed
to have her interview after mine.” Mary could clearly see that this was a
racist action even though it was unspoken. Experiences like these also
point to the racial politics of othering and the racial politics of belong-
ing, as these youths are made to feel that they are different and do not
belong in these white places and spaces.
It is their physical features that usually make Latino millennials
visible— and particularly their skin color. This becomes evident in the
different experiences reported by light- skinned and darker- skinned Lati-
nos. Light- skinned Latinos experience less frequent and less intense dis-
crimination, at least in public settings. Asked if he had ever experienced
discrimination, Dario, a twenty- one- year- old third- generation Mexican,
responded, “Can’t really say I have because most people wouldn’t guess
I was Mexican. Because visually I am not open to discrimination. If you
saw me on the streets and didn’t know I was Mexican, you would just
think I was some white guy.” Similarly, Dolores— who earlier described
her family’s racial experience at a restaurant— states, “There’s nothing
that’s been overt, like racial slurs or anything like that. Because I am
lighter skin, I don’t necessarily attract some of the negative behavior
that I think other Latinos do have to go through.” Like Dolores, these
youths are aware that individual racial experiences vary based on one’s
skin color. Michael, who earlier recounted his friends’ experience with
discrimination at a restaurant, says, “I think [that] because of my race,
my discrimination was not as great as members of my ethnicity have
experienced as a darker race. . . . Because I’m a light- skinned Puerto
Rican, I have faced discrimination, but much, much less than a lot of my
darker brothers.” Light skin, then, diminishes discrimination but does
not eliminate it. That discrimination is experienced by light- skinned
Latinos who can pass for whites attests to the racialization of Latino an-
cestry that is independent of skin color. Speech accents, surnames, and

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other cultural markers often give away their Latin American ancestry,
which in turn strips them of their Americanness.
The main cultural feature that makes Latinos visible is speaking
Spanish. Although Latino millennials speak unaccented English, switch-
ing to Spanish is common for those who are used to speaking Spanish
with their older relatives or in private familial and communal spaces.
Rosa (2016b) argues that Latinos confront what he calls the ideology
of languagelessness, which casts them as linguistically incompetent. He
explains that Latinos experience “the stigmatization of their linguis-
tic practices, whether English or Spanish, as incorrect, too heavily ac-
cented, and/or inappropriate for public space” (2016a, 108). Feagin and
Cobas (2014, 46) add that this linguistic stigmatization leads to racial-
linguistic aggressions as “attempts to undermine the status of Spanish
and of Spanish speakers and to discourage the everyday use and spread
of the language.” These racial- linguistic aggressions include silencing
and ignoring Spanish speakers (Feagin and Cobas 2014). The silencing
happens when they are bluntly told to stop speaking Spanish in white
places and spaces. Feagin and Cobas (2014) and Urciuoli (1998) argue
that whites often try to stop others from speaking Spanish because they
feel uncomfortable that they do not understand and assume that they are
being spoken about. Cecilia, a twenty- six- year- old second- generation
Mexican, recalls times when she has experienced silencing, explaining,
“There have been occasions when people have told me, my siblings, and
other Spanish- speaking individuals that we could not speak Spanish at
school or other public places.”
While speaking Spanish can make Latinos hypervisible and lead to
censure, it can also make them invisible. Ignoring Spanish speakers is
another form of racial- linguistic aggression often experienced by these
youths. Danila, a twenty- two- year- old second- generation Mexican no-
ticed that “I get discriminated against just for speaking in Spanish”; she
recounts an incident in a store when an initially helpful and friendly
salesperson changed her demeanor drastically after hearing Danila
speak Spanish on the phone. Danila says, “After I hung up the phone
with my mom, the saleslady told me that there was nothing here she
could help me with and went to a different customer. She didn’t want
to help me after she heard me speaking Spanish.” Although the sales-
person’s motivations are unclear, her changed demeanor after hearing

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Danila speak Spanish conveyed her intolerance for Spanish speakers and
her willingness to dismiss them. As the salesperson walked away from
her, Danila turned from visible to invisible. For Danila and the other
Latino millennials, their physical and linguistic visibility leads to the
imputation of otherness and the questioning of their belonging.
The Racial Politics of Othering
Latino millennial narratives also reflect the racial politics of othering.
Lipsitz (2011) notes that whiteness is an unmarked or normative cat-
egory and that nonwhites are cast as others. Frankenberg (1993, 1994)
adds that whiteness and Americanness are unmarked or neutral racial,
cultural, and national categories, while nonwhiteness embodies racial,
cultural, and national difference or otherness. Particularly fitting to
the racial politics of othering is Ngai’s (2007) concept of alien citizens,
or citizens by birth whose physical and cultural traits mark them as
foreigners. Through the processes of othering, physical and cultural
features are essentialized and taken as inherent to the group (Omi and
Winant 2014). Among Latino millennials, I found that while physical
and cultural features made them visible, it was the meanings attached to
these features that turned them into racial and national others.
Physical markers lead to the essentialization of Latino millennials
and the attribution of certain cultural traits, particularly the assump-
tion that they know and practice Latino culture and speak Spanish. It
is often assumed by non- Latinos that because these youths are Latinos,
they are fully ethnic and eat, sleep, and breathe their culture. Eric, a
twenty- one- year- old third- generation Puerto Rican and Brazilian, says,
“Most people assume that because of my ethnicity, that I would only do
Puerto Rican or Latino things. . . . People assume that I only want to
speak Spanish. That I only want to eat Latino food all the time. That I
only want to listen to Latino music or do Latino dancing. The fact is, I
enjoy all of these, but I enjoy so many other things outside of this realm.
But people only limit me to this realm.” As the only Mexican at her job,
Kate, a twenty- three- year- old second- generation woman, is assumed
to be bilingual and is often asked to take calls from Spanish speakers
or assist a Spanish- speaking customer even though she is not fluent in
Spanish. She says, “At work, people who know I am Hispanic always

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assume I speak Spanish and I don’t, so when we get callers they are all
like, ‘Kate, can you take this?’ And I can’t because I don’t speak a lick. It’s
kinda uncomfortable because if you look a certain way they expect you
to speak the language.” Eric’s and Kate’s narratives illustrate what Rosa
(2016a) calls the co- naturalization of race and language whereby Latinos
are associated with Spanish regardless of their ability to speak it.
While racial- linguistic aggressions make Latino millennials vis-
ible (as described in the previous section), those same aggressions also
make them the “other.” These narratives show that whites impute La-
tinos with a permanent language deficiency— what Feagin and Cobas
(2014) call the questioning or doubting of English proficiency and Rosa
(2016a) refers to as the stigmatization of linguistic practices— and assume
that they must not speak English or speak it only poorly. These doubts
shine through in people’s reaction of surprise or disbelief at their “per-
fect” English skills. Ana, a twenty- two- year- old Guatemalan, explains
that “they are impressed [at] how you speak Spanish and English well,
or they ask me, ‘Excuse me, do you understand English?,’ assuming that
I don’t speak English.” Just because individuals look Latino, other peo-
ple tend to assume they do not speak English. Cathy, a twenty- year- old
second- generation Mexican, says that she has been “insulted behind my
back and ended up telling people that I do speak English and I under-
stand what they’re saying.” Simple things such as a moment of hesitation
may be interpreted as a sign of not being able to speak English. When
Juan, a twenty- three- year- old second- generation Cuban, was ready to
pay for a purse at a department store, he hesitated when he learned the
price was higher than he had expected, only to have the salesperson as-
sume that he did not speak English. He recalls, “When the woman at the
register told me the total, I stopped to think if I really wanted to buy it
for that amount. Since I didn’t say anything right away, the lady looked
at me and said ‘pesos,’ like I didn’t speak English so she had to tell me
the amount in another currency.” As Juan’s narrative suggests, the sales-
woman not only assumed that Juan did not understand her but scorn-
fully stressed in Spanish a Mexican currency term.
These youths are aware that they are seen as immigrant others. Ro-
sario, a twenty- two- year- old second- generation Mexican, comments on
her hypervisibility and othering as an immigrant when she says, “I think
that when certain people look at me, they see an immigrant. You know

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who those certain people are [whites].” She adds that “because of the
issue of immigration, everyone sees a Mexican and assumes immigrant.”
Closely tied to the assumption of Latinos as immigrants is the notion
of their “illegality” or their undocumented status. Samantha, a twenty-
two- year- old second- generation Mexican– Puerto Rican, adds that “to
be a Mexican is like a big deal right now because [there are] so many
stereotypes that are put on Mexicans [as] far as illegal immigrant stuff is
going on right now.” Rosario and Samantha know that others view them
as immigrants and therefore as non- Americans despite their birthright
citizenship.
The racial politics of immigrant othering is expressed through re-
marks that range from blatant racist statements to muttered comments.
In their milder form, these take the shape of ethnic teasing or joking
by white peers. For instance, Danny, a twenty- one- year- old second-
generation Mexican, faces frequent teasing from peers. He says, “White
Americans, they make fun of Latinos. I have some white friends that
make fun of me all the time, saying the stereotypical things like ‘No
speaking no English.’ ‘Beaners.’ I think they see it more as a joke.” For
Oscar, a fifteen- year- old second- generation Mexican, “mostly it’s just
people playing around. The beaner thing. Jokes. Stuff like that.” Al-
though these comments may be intended as teasing or joking, Latino
youths do not find them funny, not only because they are offensive but
also because they highlight Latinos’ difference and put them on the
spot— making them hypervisible— and remind them that they do not
fully belong.
Another expression of immigrant othering that these Latino millen-
nials encounter takes the form of racial epithets, which also make them
hypervisible. Racial epithets do not necessarily involve interaction— they
can happen openly in the street as Latinos are walking by. For example,
Lisa, a twenty- five- year- old second- generation Colombian, experienced
verbal and physical aggression from strangers while “walking down the
street in my neighborhood. . . . My mom, my sister, and I were walking,
and somebody threw a carton of milk into the street and yelled ‘spic.’ I
had no idea what that meant. It wasn’t until ten years later when some-
body brought up that term and I asked, ‘What does that mean?’ Then
they explained . . . and after that I understood what had happened.” Lisa
was the only one among the millennials to report a physical threat, in

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this case having a milk carton thrown at her and her mother and sister.
Nevertheless, her story suggests that othering is not restricted to white
places and spaces, as this incident happened in Lisa’s predominantly La-
tino neighborhood.
Most racial epithets play on stereotypes based on Latinos’ presumed
immigration status, marking them as non- Americans and implying that
they do not belong. Ramiro, a twenty- seven- year- old third- generation
Mexican, says he has experienced discrimination that plays on Latinos’
presumed immigrant status: “I got picked on a few times. I had people
call me all types of names. Of course, they often referred to me as ‘Hey,
go cut the grass,’ ‘Go back to Mexico,’ or ‘Go cross el Rio Grande.’ You
know, stuff like that.” Fran, a twenty- year- old second- generation Mexi-
can, also encountered racial stereotypes; she says, “When I went to the
first immigration rally, I remember there was a bunch of people near,
and they would just call us wetbacks and illegals, stuff like that. And
they didn’t even know me [and] that I was born here.” Ramiro’s and
Fran’s stories show that regardless of their legal status, Latinos often are
racialized as non- American others and therefore as not belonging to the
national community.
The racial politics of immigrant othering spills into the workplace
and is particularly prominent for those serving the public. Saúl, a
twenty- five- year- old second- generation Mexican, has been the object
of racial slurs at work. He says he has been “called a spic while serving
someone food at my former job. . . . I have been called Pancho and some
disturbing jokes about having jumped fences and having kids in Mex-
ico.” Javier, a twenty- four- year- old second- generation Mexican, over-
heard racist comments from patrons at the local park where he worked
in the summers as a teen. He recalls that “every time I was out there, you
could hear people yelling ‘How typical, a Mexican doing lawn work!’ I
tried to ignore it. I knew I was working for a good reason, but man it
was hard to go back out there every day and face that. . . . You know if
anything comes up, a fight, confusion, or misunderstanding, someone is
always trying to put you down asking if you’re legal, or ‘go back to your
home.’ That’s just the typical stuff.” The matter- of- fact way in which Ja-
vier shares his experiences suggests that these incidents are indeed “just
the typical stuff ” and part of everyday life, yet their frequency does not
make them less hurtful; for Javier, it had been “hard to go back out there

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every day and face that.” Sometimes, Latino millennials are subjected to
more aggressive verbal attacks from frustrated and angry customers. For
instance, Jacques, a twenty- nine- year- old second- generation Mexican
French man, had “an unruly [train] passenger yell racial slurs at me, re-
fusing my services because I was Latino.” Another Latino millennial tells
of catching a customer who stole some items only to be verbally abused
with a plethora of epithets. These confrontations remind these youths
that they are hypervisible others who do not belong in these white places
and spaces.
In addition to their othering as immigrants, these youths experi-
enced othering as racial minorities. The imputation of racial minority
status carries with it the imputation of lower academic achievement,
lower occupational attainment, and criminality. These youths indicated
that teachers often presumed that Latino students are not smart or ca-
pable, particularly compared with their white and Asian peers. Elissa,
a nineteen- year- old second- generation Mexican, calls attention to the
disparate treatment experienced by Latinos at her school. She says,
“Throughout my school experience, the teachers have paid more atten-
tion to nonminority students and less attention to us when it comes to
teaching us the language and reading skills. We tend to be more behind.
The other students, like whites, let’s say Asians, tend to be more ahead
when it comes to math and reading and more advanced in their classes
than we minorities are.” For Elissa, the lower performance of Latino vis-
à- vis white and Asian students is directly related to teachers’ lack of in-
vestment in their Latino students. Latino students feel that they are not
taken seriously and languish in the lower tracks, while Asian and white
students are pushed to excel. Carina, a twenty- two- year- old second-
generation Mexican, says that discrimination at school is “not very out
in my face like ‘You’re Mexican, get out!’ No, not blatant racism exactly.
It was more like, ‘Oh, why do you want to go to school? You should take
on a trade.’ Like that kind of racism . . . like more covert.” While Elissa
tells of being invisible at school and Carina of being perceived as not
being college- bound, both stories convey that Latinos are stigmatized as
low academic achievers.
Young men are also singled out as low academic achievers, but what
stands out in their school stories is their othering as gang members.
Octavio, a twenty- year- old second- generation Mexican, recalls how

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teachers held negative views of Latino male students that were gener-
alized to the larger group. This othering as “gangster” leads to hyper-
visibility, which results in more surveillance and punishment at school
for young men, even when they are not involved in gangs. None of the
young women reported experiencing surveillance and punishment at
school. Ricky, a seventeen- year- old second- generation Mexican, says
that “the security guards [at school] are always following us around, but
not the white dudes. They follow around black dudes too, and us.” As
these narratives imply, school staff not only hold stereotypical views of
Latino students but also act based on these stereotypes, unleashing edu-
cational disadvantages that have dire consequences for these youths’ life
chances. Rios (2011) provides a more detailed account of the school con-
sequences of being labeled a gang member. The narratives of the youths
in my study are not isolated incidents but widespread experiences that
highlight Latinos’ visibility as racial and national others and erode their
sense of belonging to the American imagined community. Regardless of
the kind of othering they are subjected to, these experiences highlight
Latino millennials’ visibility and their otherness while eating away at
their sense of belonging to the American imagined community.
The Politics of Belonging
The racial politics of belonging becomes palpable during incidents in
which the right to be in a particular place and space is contested. Unlike
the politics of visibility, which highlights physical and cultural differ-
ences, and the politics of othering, which attaches meaning to these
differences, the politics of belonging marks Latino millennials as outsid-
ers and questions their right to be present in certain places and spaces.
These challenges happen in public spaces where Latinos’ mere presence
is questioned. They also occur in white places and spaces such as col-
leges and workplaces where Latinos are deemed unqualified or not fit to
belong. Behind the politics of belonging is the presumption that these
youths do not have a right to be in these places and spaces.
One manifestation of the racial politics of belonging deals with the
right to be present in public spaces without eliciting suspicion or the
assumption of ulterior and nefarious motives. I have already mentioned
that young women became visible “oddities” in stores where they were

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stared at or ignored but usually let be, but young men were treated as
criminal others in these same places and were made overtly aware that
they do not belong there. Young men were kept under close scrutiny or
received unrequested and unneeded attention from salespeople because
they were suspected of having criminal intentions. Johnny, a twenty-
three- year- old second- generation Mexican, says that “when I go into
stores people follow me and my friends around and always assume that
we are stealing things.” Another young man, Juan, added to his earlier
account of being treated rudely by a salesperson, saying, “I constantly
feel discriminated against when I go out shopping. I consider myself to
be a well- dressed individual and I don’t dress urban, but yet when I go
into a store with more expensive clothes, I feel I am followed around
or questioned more often by sales people asking if I need help or if I’m
looking for something.” It does not matter that Juan dresses well— clearly
to signal his middle- class status and that he has no gang affiliation— in
hopes of decreasing the chances of being racially profiled; he still elic-
its suspicion when shopping because he looks Latino and therefore is
read as having criminal intentions and thus no legitimate reason to be
there. Juan is not alone, as other young men also elicit suspicion in white
spaces by their mere presence.
There are other ways in which the imputation of criminality— and
gang membership in particular— impacted young men’s access to and
their right to be in public spaces. Just the simple act of walking home
could provoke questioning and pat- downs at the hands of police who
suspected the young men of criminal activity. In an earlier statement,
Michael argued that he experiences less discrimination because of his
light skin color, but that he still experiences discrimination “by cops.
I’ve been called spic. I’ve been pulled out of cars. I’ve been randomly
searched.” Similarly, Danny, who in his comments quoted earlier down-
played discrimination by peers as teasing, has his share of encounters
with the police. He says, “When I was younger . . . I would automatically
be associated as a gang banger” and was frequently stopped by the police.
Danny attributes his interactions with police to “being associated as a
Mexican, walking down the street with baggy pants and a hoody, they’re
going to say, ‘Oh, there goes a gang banger.’” This occurs, he explains,
even when he is just “walking home [from school]. I’m not spitting. I’m
not urinating. Not doing anything to call attention. Just walking home.”

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So frequent are these experiences that Diego, a twenty- two- year- old
second- generation Mexican, likens this relentless treatment from police
to being seen as an “enemy combatant” or “homegrown terrorist.” Diego
recounts an incident that happened when he was fourteen years old and
on his way to the Boys and Girls Club, and the police “pulled over, three
squad cars, guns drawn, ‘Where’s the gun? Where’s the gun?’ ‘We don’t
have no gun.’ That’s an example. Getting frisked, getting labeled, racially
profiled, getting pulled over. ‘Hey Latin King, what gang you belong to?’
Why do I have to be a gangster? ‘What you got on you?’ In my opinion,
it’s us versus them. That’s how I got treated, like an enemy, an enemy
combatant. We found a foe or whatever, you know what I’m saying? Like
if I’m a homegrown terrorist.” That Diego uses the terms “enemy com-
batant” and “homegrown terrorist” attests to a form of political othering
that casts him as dangerous and diminishes his right to be in the streets.
Another iteration of the racial politics of belonging involves these
youths’ racial exclusion through the discourse of affirmative action. As
racial minorities, Latino millennials encountered situations in which
their qualifications and merit were questioned. At times, discrimination
takes the form of comments made within earshot directed at a general-
ized Latino “other.” Although these comments are usually not directed
at a particular person, they are voiced in such a way that Latinos nearby
can hear them. This typically involves the presumption of Latinos’ lack
of academic or professional merit, particularly stigmatizing them as af-
firmative action beneficiaries, implying that they did not get into college
or secure a job based on their own qualifications. Rosalinda, a twenty-
year- old third- generation Mexican, vividly recalls overhearing a conver-
sation among white students during a summer orientation at the college
she had decided to attend: “I was sitting in the auditorium waiting for
the orientation to begin and was overhearing the conversation going
on in front of me between a few white boys. They were talking about
how blacks and Mexicans only got in to this school because they were
black or Mexican. Like we didn’t have the right credentials and didn’t
belong there. And that pisses me off because I got a 29 on my ACT, and
had a real good GPA too in high school. I didn’t just get in because I’m
Mexican, you know.” It is unclear if these white students were aware that
Rosalinda was within earshot and if she was the intended target of these
prejudicial statements, but that does not lessen their impact. Unlike Ro-

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salinda, Orlando, a twenty- two- year- old second- generation Mexican,
believes that the racist remarks he often overhears are not directed at
him because as a light- skinned Latino, he usually passes as white. Yet
he cannot escape “people questioning why I’m in college. Maybe [it’s]
because of affirmative action, not based on merit or anything like that.”
While Orlando dismisses most comments as not directed at him, these
remarks— along with the more direct questioning he faces— call into
question his right to attend college.
Sometimes questioning of Latino millennials’ merit is more direct
and leaves little doubt that the slight is directed at them. Sofia, a twenty-
year- old third- generation Mexican, had such an experience in a college
class when she felt that a put- down directed at a generalized other was
really intended for her. She says that in class “this girl was talking about
how the Mexican people only got in because they were Mexican. And
she was like ‘My friend got a 30 on her ACT and because she was white
she got rejected and how many people were here they had like 17s.’ And
she was looking at me, and I was like, ‘Are you trying to say that I’m not
intelligent enough to be here?’ She was really out of control. She really
made me mad, that was the only time I felt like ‘Wow, I’m looked at as
a Mexican that doesn’t even deserve to be in this university.’” Although
this comment appeared to be directed at a “generalized other,” Sofia took
offense because her classmate cast doubt on Sofia’s educational creden-
tials and made her the visible target by looking at her as she spoke.
Leo, a twenty- six- year- old second- generation Mexican, also experi-
enced more direct questioning when he faced doubts from other mem-
bers of his trade union about his legitimacy to hold and do his job. Leo
says that getting a union job is difficult: “So I have heard comments
from white guys that I am just there because of affirmative action. . . .
I have mixed feelings about it. I don’t understand why someone has to
know what race you are in order to give you a job. Either someone is
qualified or they’re not. But, then again, maybe no minorities would
have jobs if it wasn’t for affirmative action. . . . [It should be taken away]
but only under one condition, the employer can’t know the race of the
applicant until they are hired. That leaves no room for racial discrimi-
nation.” This frequent wrangling leaves Leo with “mixed feelings” and
angry at the need for affirmative action policies to ensure that qualified
racial minority applicants, like himself, can have a fair chance at get-

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ting hired. Although he feels that affirmative action stigmatizes him, he
knows that without it he would not stand a fair chance, regardless of his
qualifications. What the incidents related by Rosalinda, Sofia, and Leo
have in common is that they make these youths hypervisible, casting
them as undeserving “others” (i.e., affirmative action) and making them
feel that they do not rightfully belong in these white places and spaces.
Another way in which the politics of belonging plays out is in the
association of Latinos with undocumented status, which raises the ques-
tion of their right to work. Martín, a twenty- year- old third- generation
Mexican, says, “When I go look for a job, they ask me if I am a citizen.”
Teresa, who stated earlier that white people will not sit next to her on the
train, also experienced discrimination, explaining, “When I applied to
my first job, my boss asked me if my papers were real.” Stabs at Latinos’
citizenship status are often subtle, as when Yuli, a twenty- three- year- old
second- generation Mexican, was taken aback by a coworker’s comment
about Latinos with undocumented status. Yuli says that “somebody
made the comment that if there was ever an immigration raid, that he
would be safe and the rest of us would get taken away because we were
all wetbacks. Little did he know that I would not get taken away for legal
reasons. He, actually, just based on appearance alone, would get taken
away. But, yeah, he figured that since we were all working in a factory
job that we must all be illegal immigrants.” Yuli was upset at the as-
sumption that all Latinos are undocumented, disregarding most Latinos’
legality and birthright citizenship.
Some young men’s narratives attach being pulled over by the po-
lice while driving to their presumed undocumented immigrant status.
Manolo, a twenty- two- year- old second- generation Mexican, says, “I
have been stopped by police and asked if I speak English as if I was not
supposed to know. They treat you like you have just crossed the bor-
der here. It’s not fair at all.” A more intense situation was reported by
Manuel, a twenty- seven year old second- generation Mexican. While he
was driving across the country with his father, they were stopped by the
police and questioned about their citizenship. According to Manuel, the
officer was asking him, “‘What’s your relationship to this man?’ This was
just last year, this is right after I went to Mexico, coming back. He’s like
‘Are you a U.S. citizen? Were you born here?’ I think that, looking back
at it, that it would definitely be a case of like my citizenship was ques-

L at i n o s a n d t h e R ac ia l P o l i t i c s o f Pl ac e a n d S pac e | 49
tioned. . . . Asking my dad where are you coming from, you know, like
one of those things, they’ll split you up and ask us specific questions and
then see if they match up. Definitely, my citizenship is involved in that.”
Stories like Manuel’s show that racial profiling is based not only on one’s
appearance but also on being assumed to be an undocumented immi-
grant who does not belong. As these narratives reveal, the racial politics
of belonging downplays, minimizes, or overtly denies these youths’ right
to be present, eroding their sense of belonging.
Millennials’ Racial Experiences and Their Self- Understandings
The narratives presented in this chapter help us begin to understand why
Latino millennials see themselves as citizens but not Americans. Their
experiences reveal their dealings with pervasive discrimination in their
everyday lives— what other scholars call racial microaggressions— that
signal their marginality. These racial experiences are typically not bla-
tant but rather conform to the subtle and covert forms of discrimination
that characterize the post– civil rights era. These forms of discrimination
are more likely to happen in places and spaces that are racially marked
as white, and where Latinos stand out because of physical or cultural
traits that render them racial or national “others” and define them as
outsiders who do not belong.
In this chapter, I have discussed how the racial politics of place and
space— which infuses racial meaning into particular settings— and
its three interrelated iterations (the politics of visibility, the politics
of othering, and the politics of belonging) shape these youths’ self-
understandings in relation to the imagined American community.
Through the politics of visibility, these youths’ physical and cultural dif-
ferences make them stand out in white settings. The politics of othering
uses these same physical and cultural differences to mark them as racial
and national others, while the politics of belonging uses these physical
and cultural differences to construe them as outsiders who do not be-
long racially or nationally.
As their narratives show, Latino millennials’ everyday experience
of discrimination vary in frequency and intensity. Because individual
characteristics— such as gender and skin color— mediate the type, fre-
quency, and intensity of their racial experiences, not all Latinos are af-

50 | L at i n o s a n d t h e R ac ia l P o l i t i c s o f Pl ac e a n d S pac e
fected equally. Those who are males or who have darker skin tend to
experience more frequent and intense racial experiences— and these
differences come through in the later chapters. Despite individual char-
acteristics that may tone down negative racial experiences, no Latino
is completely immune from discrimination. While discrimination may
target different aspects of their sense of self, it inflicts a larger wound
when it happens repeatedly and across settings.
Ultimately, these racial experiences convey Latino millennials’ mar-
ginal status while eroding their sense of belonging to the American
imagined community. As Ana succinctly puts it, “Just like because you
get discriminated, there [are] not the same rights, and people think that
you just don’t belong here.” The experiences that Latino millennials re-
late here, along with the experiences presented throughout the book,
point to the centrality of race in shaping their self- understandings as
marginal members of the American imagined community— as citizens
but not Americans.

51
3
Latinos as an Ethnorace
When asked what term she normally uses to identify herself, how she
identifies ethnically, and how she identifies racially, Giselle, a twenty-
three- year- old second- generation woman, responded without any
hesitation, “Latina,” “Mexican American,” and “other,” respectively. She
identifies as Latina because “we’ve been socialized to be recognized as
Hispanic or Latino in the United States.” She describes herself as “light-
skinned, brown- haired, Hispanic- looking, and by other people I would
automatically be seen as either Mexican or Latino.” Her ethnic iden-
tity as Mexican American is based on “having origins in the country
of Mexico” but also on her physical appearance and values. Prodded
to explain why she identifies her race as “other,” she explains that “the
race categories that I know are black, white, Native American, Pacific
Islander, or other. And I can’t say that I fall within those.” To her, to be
“other” is “a lack of being recognized.” Giselle bemoans her lack of suit-
able racial choices:
It’s forced upon [you] to choose as black or white. But in reality, you really
don’t identify with such races. And it seems as if this is a somewhat lost
population in regard to identity matters. . . . Lost by not having a concrete
way to identify such as the African American community will identify as
black, or Caucasians would identify as white. Because I know that there
are some Latino individuals who identify themselves as white, and there’s
others who identify themselves as black. And you question that. And it
seems like a complex situation for an individual who is of Latin American
descent to have, again, like I said, a concrete way to identify.
I begin this chapter by highlighting Giselle’s narrative because it illus-
trates Latino millennials’ racial conundrum. Giselle’s straightforward
answers convey her self- understanding as Mexican and Latina, others’
perception of her as Mexican or Latina, and her feelings of perplexity

52 | L at i n o s as a n Et h n o r ac e
about how any Latino could identify as anything else. Not having a via-
ble racial choice— because Latino is not considered a race, and she does
not fit in the white or black category— leaves Giselle feeling dejected
and part of an invisible and “lost population” without a “concrete way
to identify.”
Latino millennials’ narratives show that they are required to choose
from racial categories that do not fit their experiences or identities,
yet they resist attempts to be pigeonholed into conventional racial cat-
egories. Unlike other groups with corresponding pairs of ethnicity and
race— such as African American/black and Caucasian/white— Latino is
not recognized as a racial category for people of Latin American ori-
gin. These Latino millennials’ narratives bring to light the complexity of
categorizing a people who have undergone racialization and as a result
see themselves, and are seen by others, as a separate and distinct group
but are nevertheless subjected to ill- fitting racial options. In U.S. soci-
ety, race is the primary means of social categorization, and not having a
suitable racial category deems Latinos invisible, casts them as marginal
members of society, renders them outside of the imagined community,
and contributes to their feeling that they are citizens but not Americans.
In this chapter, I examine how Latino millennials construct ethnoracial
self- understandings, and what these self- understandings tell us about
Latinos’— quite marginal— standing in the American racial landscape.
My analysis shows that Latino millennials’ self- understandings chal-
lenge our assumptions about race among Latinos. First, I found that
these young people do not identify with conventional racial categories
and instead largely think of themselves as a racial group composed of
people of Latin American ancestry. Second, lacking an appropriate ra-
cial term, the majority of these youths borrow from their panethnic
repertoire and use “Latino/Hispanic” or a national origin— such as
“Mexican”— as racial terms. And while they may not have articulated it
directly as a race, all these youths identified panethnically as Latino/as
or Hispanics. These panethnic terms have then taken on racial mean-
ing as Latinos increasingly use them as stand- ins for race (see Flores-
González 1999; Flores- González, Aranda, and Vaquera 2014). Third, I
found that these youths’ self- understandings challenge the conceptual
splitting of ethnicity and race, suggesting that this familiar framework
may not apply to them. Indeed, the stories presented in this chapter, and

L at i n o s as a n Et h n o r ac e | 53
throughout the book, suggest that the concept of ethnorace may better
inform Latino millennials’ self- understandings, as well as how others
understand Latinos’ social categorization. This chapter addresses what
Dowling (2014) calls the “question of race” among Latinos and offers a
new perspective on Latinos’ place in the racial landscape.
Latinos and the Question of Race
For the past four decades, scholars have been debating the “question of
race” among Latinos while generally arguing that Latinos are a white sub-
group based on their historical classification as whites and their tendency
to self- identify as white on the U.S. Census and in surveys. This assump-
tion follows the conceptual split between race and ethnicity that results
in Latinos’ classification as a panethnic group rather than a racial group.
Traditionally, ethnicity and race have been seen as distinct concepts. In
simple terms, ethnicity refers to cultural elements— such as language,
beliefs, and practices— that distinguish one group from another; in
contrast, race generally refers to physically observable differences that
distinguish one group from another (Cornell and Hartmann 1998). The
U.S. government recognizes five mutually exclusive races: white, black,
American Indian or Alaska Native, Asian, and Native Hawaiian or Pacific
Islander (U.S. Census Bureau 2011). These racial categories are based on
presumed biological, national, cultural, and geographic origin (Morn-
ing 2011). Although Latinos come from a particular geographic region
in which diverse national origins share cultural similarities, they are
not considered a race because they are phenotypically heterogeneous,
often racially mixed, and not assumed to share a particular biological or
genetic makeup. Because Latinos are typically described as a racially het-
erogeneous group— composed of people of white, black, indigenous, and
even Asian descent— they do not collectively fit into any of the recog-
nized racial categories (Morning 2011; Rodriguez 2000). Instead, Latinos
are regarded as a panethnic group composed of people of diverse Latin
American national origins (such as Mexican, Puerto Rican, Guatemalan)
and varied racial makeup (European, African, Indigenous, and Asian).
Given their racial mixture, it is assumed that, as a group, Latinos do not
fit into a single racial category, but that individual Latinos may be white,
or black, or any of the other races.

54 | L at i n o s as a n Et h n o r ac e
Because racial identification (the labels that people use to describe
themselves when they have limited choices) is assumed to match racial
identity (what people actually believe they are), and racial identity is
used as a measure of belonging, some scholars assume that the large
number of Latinos who identify as white on the U.S. Census and national
surveys confirms Latinos’ status as ethnic whites— or at the very least is
a sign of their progression toward whiteness and full integration (Tafoya
2004). Latinos’ tendency to identify as white on the U.S. Census, their
propensity to identify as “unhyphenated Americans,” their gains in so-
cioeconomic status (i.e., education, occupation, and income), language
attainment, and intermarriage rates, along with decreases in geographic
concentration, are taken as a signal of their (impending) assimilation
as whites (Lee and Bean 2010; Warren and Twine 1997; Yancey 2003).
Other scholars add that differences in ethnic identification among La-
tinos are reflective of assimilation into different sectors of U.S. society:
identifying as American denotes upward or straight- line assimilation, or
aspirations toward assimilation into the white middle class; downward
assimilation into a minority group is marked by the taking on of racial
or panethnic labels; and identification by national origin or as a hyphen-
ated American reflects assimilation into the ethnic group (Portes and
Rumbaut 1996, 2001; Portes and Zhou 1993; Zhou 1997).
The notion that most Latinos are white— or becoming white— has
been turned on its head in light of significant and long- lasting changes
in Latino racial identification patterns. Most notably, Latino identifica-
tion as white on the U.S. Census dropped drastically from 95 percent
in 1970 to 55 percent in 1980— when the “Some Other Race” (SOR) cat-
egory and multiple racial identifications were introduced. Restructuring
of the 1980 census resulted in more than a third of Latinos bypassing
the five standard government- sanctioned racial categories (white, black,
American Indian or Alaska Native, Asian, and Native Hawaiian or Pa-
cific Islander) and opting for SOR as their racial choice and writing
in their national origin or the panethnic terms “Hispanic” or “Latino”
(Rodriguez 2000). Despite further changes in the 1990, 2000, and 2010
censuses, 44 percent, 42 percent, and 37 percent, respectively, of Latinos
continued to mark SOR. Findings from a census experiment in 2010
show that a combined question format that places “Hispanic/Latino”
among the standard racial/origin categories lowers the selection of SOR

L at i n o s as a n Et h n o r ac e | 55
among Latinos and results in nearly all Latinos marking the Hispanic/
Latino category (U.S. Census Bureau 2012).
This four- decade- long trend shows that marking SOR is not a hiccup
that will fade away with cosmetic changes such as rewording or reorder-
ing the questions. This trend also questions the assumption that racial
identification reflects one’s “actual” racial identity. As soon as a racial
alternative was available in the form of SOR, a significant number of La-
tinos shifted their racial identification, suggesting that perhaps all along
their racial identification was based on choosing the least ill- fitting cat-
egory. In light of these shifts, we need to rethink Latinos’ place in the
U.S. racial landscape.
In tackling this enigma, scholars argue that racial identification is not
based on biological or genetic makeup but on social dynamics that in-
fuse social groupings with racial meaning. Racial identification is now
understood as a more complex process that takes into account physi-
cal characteristics such as phenotype and skin color, cultural traits such
as language, and other attributes including nativity, education, socio-
economic status, age, generation, national origin, geography, segrega-
tion, and discrimination (Campbell and Rogalin 2006; Desmond and
Emirbayer 2009, Dowling 2014; Jones- Correa and Leal 1996; Perez and
Hirschman 2009; Portes and Rumbaut 1996; Roth 2012; Tafoya 2004;
Taylor et al. 2012; Telles and Ortiz 2008).
Some scholars argue that Latino SOR identification is a reflection of
Latinos’ racialized ethnicity, such that Latino ethnic groups have been
racialized or marked by cultural as well as physical characteristics, and
subjected to the discrimination and exclusion that characterizes sub-
ordinated racial groups (Feagin 2013; Golash- Boza 2006; Grosfoguel
2004; Telles and Ortiz 2008; Vasquez 2010). They pose that when ethnic
groups are racialized, cultural and physical traits are generalized to all
members of the group— even if they do not possess these traits— and
their experiences align with those of subordinated racial groups (Feagin
2013; Golash- Boza 2006; Kibria 2002; Telles and Ortiz 2008; Vasquez
2011). These scholars also argue that the racialization of Latinos’ ethnic-
ity is reflected in their inconsistent, nonlinear, and multiprong patterns
of assimilation that remain well into the fourth generation and leads to
a strong showing in some measures of assimilation but not in others
(Gans 1992; Telles and Ortiz 2008; Vasquez 2011). Vasquez (2011) argues

56 | L at i n o s as a n Et h n o r ac e
that Mexican Americans experience “racialization despite assimilation,”
as even those who by many measures (e.g., language, socioeconomic sta-
tus, intermarriage) are assimilated, maintain a Mexican American ethnic
identity because they are perceived and treated as Mexican others. While
racialized ethnicity adds complexity to the question of race among Lati-
nos, it is still based on the notion that Latinos are a largely white ethnic
group held back by their experiences on the road to assimilation.
Rethinking the Racial Landscape
Other scholars argue that Latinos’ identification as SOR reflects a larger
and more profound problem with the conceptualization of race and
ethnicity that lags behind how people actually think of and enact these
concepts (Almaguer and Jung 1998; Dowling 2014; Flores- González
1999; Flores- González, Aranda, and Vaquera 2014; Frank, Akresh, and
Lu 2010; Gomez 2007; Hitlin, Brown, and Elder 2007; Itzigsohn 2004;
Perez and Hirschman 2009; Prewitt 2013; Rodriguez 2000; Roth 2012).
Kenneth Prewitt (2013), former director of the U.S. Census Bureau,
argues that the significant proportion of Latinos choosing SOR reflects
the irrelevance of a racial categorization scheme founded on outdated
eighteenth- century color- based notions of race. The continued reli-
ance on pigmentocracy as the basis of race fails to capture the changing
meaning of race, which is now about more than biology or phenotype
and includes nationality, culture, and geographic origin (Morning 2009;
Pascale 2008; Phinney 1996; Rodriguez 2000).
Some scholars conclude that Latinos’ identification as SOR— and
particularly their use of the term “Hispanic/Latino”— reflects a status
more akin to race than to ethnicity (Dowling 2014; Flores- González
1999; Flores- González, Aranda, and Vaquera 2014; Frank, Akresh, and
Lu 2010; Hitlin, Brown, and Elder 2007; Itzigsohn 2009; Perez and
Hirschman 2009; Roth 2012). Frank, Akresh, and Lu (2010) argue that
Latinos’ propensity to self- identify as SOR attests to the redrawing of ra-
cial boundaries. Rather than expanding to absorb Latinos as part of the
white or black races (blurring of racial boundaries), these authors stress,
racial boundaries are enclosing Latinos (intensifying racial boundaries)
as a separate racial group. Hitlin, Brown, and Elder (2007) stop short
of calling Latinos a race, instead advocating for the switch from race to

L at i n o s as a n Et h n o r ac e | 57
social origin as a more accurate and significant classification scheme.
They contend that the conceptual division of race and ethnicity has little
resonance among Latinos, as these are socially equivalent concepts. In
an analysis of the 2010 census, the Pew Research Center (2015) found
that Latinos think of their Hispanic/Latino background as part of their
racial identity.
While in previous works I also called for viewing Latinos as a race,
a deeper analysis of my data suggests that ethnorace may be a more fit-
ting concept for describing Latino millennials’ self- understandings of
their place in the U.S. racial landscape. David Hollinger (1995) poses
that social categorization in the United States is characterized by an eth-
noracial pentagon composed of five groups: Anglo- Americans, African
Americans, Asian Americans, Native Americans, and Hispanics/Lati-
nos. The term “ethnorace” was first used by David Theo Goldberg (1997)
to describe social groups that are interchangeably defined as ethnic and
racial, are simultaneously viewed as both ethnic and racial, or whose
classification has wavered from ethnic to racial over time. Elaborating
on Goldberg’s concept, Linda Martin Alcoff (2009, 122) defines ethnor-
ace as a group “who have both ethnic and racialized characteristics, who
are a historical people with customs and conventions developed out of
collective agency, but who are also identified and identifiable by bodily
morphology that allows for both group affinity as well as group exclu-
sion and denigration.” Alcoff argues that Latinos should be thought of as
an ethnoracial group and that doing so gets around the flawed division
between race and ethnicity. She adds that an ethnoracial categorization
clearly sets Latinos’ experience apart from that of other ethnic groups
deemed assimilable and recasts what appears to be a bumpy assimila-
tion pattern as an expression of their own ethnoracial group. Alcoff
believes that, as a concept, ethnorace allows for a more extensive and
inclusive definition that incorporates Latinos’ ethnic, racial, class, and
gender diversity. Silvio Torres- Saillant (2003) adds that ethnorace also
accounts for the common exclusion and disempowerment that affect
Latinos despite their diverse national, ethnic, or racial backgrounds. In
this chapter, I set out to show that the ethnorace framework is a suitable
tool for understanding Latino millennials’ place in the U.S. racial land-
scape. While Alcoff offers a philosophical argument about why Latinos
are an ethnorace, here I present an empirical application of her argu-

58 | L at i n o s as a n Et h n o r ac e
ment. Before discussing Latino millennials’ fit as an ethnorace, I discuss
how these youths identified ethnically and racially, and how their self-
understandings begin to elucidate the question of race among Latinos.
Racial and Ethnic Identification among Latino Millennials
Unlike in the U.S. Census and other survey- based research, partici-
pants in my study were not given predetermined categories to choose
from but instead were asked open- ended questions that allowed them
to use any terms they thought best described them. More specifically,
they were asked to state their ethnic and racial identification and then
answer questions geared to uncover their understandings of, and the
meanings they attach to, ethnicity and race. Three main findings stand
out from their answers. First, Latino millennials do not identify in con-
ventional racial terms. Only 6 percent used a standard racial term: 3
percent white, 1 percent indigenous, and 2 percent white Hispanic (or
Hispanic white). That so few identify using standard racial categories
shows that these categories do not fit. Furthermore, the narratives of
youths who identified as white reveal what can be called racial disso-
nance, in that their stated racial identification does not match their
racial identity. As I discuss at length in an article written with Elizabeth
Aranda and Elizabeth Vaquera, these youths are “white but not really
white” (see Flores- González, Aranda, and Vaquera 2014). That is, their
racial identification as white is beset with inconsistencies because they
neither consider themselves white nor are necessarily perceived as white
by others. For them, “white” seems the best racial option because it suits
their light skin color and phenotype, they have been told that white is
the racial designation for Latinos, or they use Latin American racial
standards by which they are “white Latinos” or “Latino whites.” Their
explanations show that their racial identification— what they may put
down on paper— does not necessarily align with their racial identity or
how they actually think of themselves.
Second, these youths’ answers fall squarely in the SOR category, with
more than three- quarters of participants selecting ethnic or panethnic
terms for race. In the absence of an appropriate racial term, they borrow
terms from their panethnic repertoire and apply them as stand- ins for
race: 40 percent used the terms “Latino” or “Hispanic,” while 38 percent

L at i n o s as a n Et h n o r ac e | 59
applied a national origin to race. In addition to the SOR answers, about
one- tenth of the Latino millennials identified in nonracial/nonethnic
terms by indicating their race as human (6 percent), none (2 percent),
or other (2 percent). Also, a trickle of Latino millennials identified “mul-
tiracially” by stating more than one term for race, such as “Latino and
Mexican American.” Regardless of which SOR term they use, it is clear
that the standard and officially recognized racial categories do not apply
to them and that they make do with labels that are significant to them
and to others. Unlike those who identified as white, these youths’ racial
identification (how they identify when asked) and racial identity (how
they actually identify) are consistent throughout their narratives.
Third, if we assume that selecting two different terms for ethnicity
and race reflects a conceptual split, and if we assume that national ori-
gin and panethnic labels are discrete terms, then we can presume that
Latino millennials understand ethnicity and race as distinct concepts.
Three- quarters of them stated two different— although interrelated—
terms for ethnicity and race. Just over a third stated a national origin for
ethnicity and a panethnic term for race, while another tenth inverted
these by using a panethnic term for ethnicity and a national origin
for race. There was more variety in the terms used for race— such as
national origin, panethnicity, standard racial category, nonracial and
nonethnic terms— and more consistency in ethnic identification, as 78
percent of the youths applied a national origin term for ethnicity. While
most youths used two different labels for ethnicity and race, there was
a significant number— about a quarter— of the youths who did not dif-
ferentiate between ethnicity and race and applied the same term to both.
Most of these youths used a national origin label for both their ethnic
and their racial identification.
These findings contribute to scholarly and popular debate on the
question of race among Latinos. Does their nonconformity to standard
racial identification mean that they are a separate racial group? Does
their fairly equal reliance on national origin and panethnic labels for
race mean that these terms are equivalent? Does their tendency to use
two different terms for ethnicity and race mean that they subscribe to
the conceptual split between race and ethnicity? In general, what do
Latino millennials’ self- understandings about ethnicity and race tell us
about the question of race among Latinos? And, more important, what

60 | L at i n o s as a n Et h n o r ac e
do their self- understandings tell us about the U.S. racial landscape and
Latinos’ place in it?
Latinos Millennials in the U.S. Ethnoracial Landscape
My data show that Latino millennials’ self- understandings chal-
lenge current conceptualizations of Latinos’ race and highlight their
marginal— and invisible— standing in the American racial landscape.
Current definitions of race leave little room for Latinos to maneuver
racially, suggesting that Latino millennials’ self- understandings— as
well as how they are understood by others— may be best explained by
an alternative conceptualization. My analysis suggests the ethnoracial
framework, as spelled out by Alcoff (2009), as a fitting alternative. In
the following sections, I examine how the three main components of
this framework are reflected in Latino millennials’ narratives. The first
element is what I call Latino millennials’ coupling of ethnicity and race
that results in these concepts being interchangeable, deployed simulta-
neously, and used contextually. The second element speaks to Latino
millennials’ identification— by others as well as themselves— by bodily
morphology or what can be called a Latino prototype. The third element
points to Latinos millennials’ sense of a similar heritage— Latin Ameri-
can ancestry and cultural similarities— that I refer to as the weight of
Latin American ancestry.
Coupling Ethnicity and Race
The first element of Alcoff ’s (2009) ethnoracial framework that comes
through in the Latino millennials’ narratives is the coupling of ethnicity
and race, either directly or indirectly. Those who couple ethnicity and
race directly view these concepts as equivalent and see little need for
using more than one term. In contrast, those who couple ethnicity and
race indirectly tend to use different— but interrelated— terms for each.
Irrespective of their approach, Latino millennials were likely to employ
the terms they designated for ethnicity and for race interchangeably,
simultaneously, and contextually. That is, they substituted one for the
other, employed them at the same time, or deployed them in different
contexts.

L at i n o s as a n Et h n o r ac e | 61
Slightly over a quarter of the Latino millennials coupled ethnicity
and race by employing the same term for both concepts. Most of these
youths identify ethnically and racially by national origin, while only a
handful identify panethnically. Their narratives show that they view eth-
nicity and race as equivalent and thus see no need to use different terms.
Ricky, a seventeen- year- old second- generation man who is half Puerto
Rican, insists that he is Mexican, an identification that is reflected in his
ethnic and racial choices when he says, “I don’t see what the difference
is. . . . If someone asks me my ethnicity, I say Mexican. If someone asks
me my race, I say Mexican. People never ask me that anyways, it’s more
just like ‘What are you?’ No one says race or ethnicity or nothing like
that. . . . And like I said, I consider myself more Mexican than anything.”
Quite explicitly, Ricky condemns the conceptual separation between
race and ethnicity, indicating, “I don’t see . . . the difference.” Manolo, a
twenty- two- year- old second- generation man who identifies as Mexican,
also does not buy into the conceptual division of ethnicity and race. He
states, “When someone asks me about both my race and ethnicity, I use
the term ‘Mexican.’ This is who I am. I don’t think it is necessary for me
to use another term.”
That these youths identify ethnically and racially by national origin
does not mean that they do not identify panethnically. They may use
both national origin and panethnic terms when identifying ethnically
and/or racially, and often in tandem. For instance, Sofia, a twenty- year-
old third- generation woman, identifies ethnically and racially as Mexi-
can but uses the terms “Mexican” and “Latino” in tandem when she says,
“Race and ethnicity, they’re kind of tightly mixed together, I would just
say that they’re the same thing. . . . I guess I would say it’s kind of the
same thing ’cause . . . being Mexican and being Latino it’s the same thing
for me.” Likewise, Eric, a twenty- one- year- old third- generation Puerto
Rican and Brazilian who identifies racially and ethnically as Puerto
Rican, interjects “Latino” along with “Puerto Rican” in his narrative: “To
me, it is both. Ethnically, I am closest to my Puerto Rican roots. Most
of my family in the United States is Puerto Rican, so almost always I
identify as Puerto Rican. If I want to get specific, I identify as pan- Latino
because of my multiple Latino roots. However, I consider myself ulti-
mately Puerto Rican.” Like Sofia, Eric prefers to identify as Puerto Rican
but also identifies as Latino because of his dual ancestry.

62 | L at i n o s as a n Et h n o r ac e
In addition to using these terms in tandem, Latino millennials tend
to use national origin and panethnic labels interchangeably. They often
begin by referring to national origin and switch to a panethnic term
partway through their narrative. For example, Liz is a twenty- six- year-
old second– generation woman who identifies ethnically as Mexican
American and racially as Mexican, yet, when asked about what it means
to be Mexican, she switches to the term “Latina”:
I would have to say that the most stereotypical are my skin color and just
overall the facial features. . . . I would say that I am overall considered
Latina by my traits. . . . To be Latina in this country sometimes I hear
the comments and get the dirty looks from non- Spanish- speaking people
when I do not in fact speak Spanish. To be Latina, too, I feel that I get the
best of both worlds. I do speak Spanish and celebrate my customs, but yet
again I am American born and raised so I have an assimilation of cus-
toms. . . . To be Hispanic in this country means that you are sometimes
treated like an outsider who does not have a clue about education, differ-
ent cultures, and so on.
Although Liz was asked about being Mexican, every time she substituted
“Latina” or “Hispanic” for “Mexican,” suggesting that for her these two
terms are equivalent and interchangeable.
As Rodriguez (2000) has stated, Latino identification is contextual
and thus varies depending on who asks the questions, who answers the
questions, the format of the question (open vs. closed- ended questions),
and the context in which the question is asked. In this study, Latino
millennials acknowledged that “who asks the question” shapes their an-
swers. Eric, who earlier said he identifies as Puerto Rican, states, “I am
only Puerto Rican when I am with other Latinos.” With non- Latinos,
Eric is Hispanic/Latino, and his Puerto Rican ethnicity is largely irrele-
vant. For these youths, panethnic terms are usually given to non- Latinos,
while more specific national origin terms are used among Latinos.
Almost three- quarters of the Latino millennials in my study couple
ethnicity and race indirectly. While it may seem that they subscribe to
the conceptual split between ethnicity and race, they also employ their
ethnic and racial designations interchangeably, simultaneously, and con-
textually. Danny, a twenty- one- year- old second- generation man who

L at i n o s as a n Et h n o r ac e | 63
identifies ethnically as Mexican and racially as Latino and Mexican, uses
a sports analogy to illustrate his understanding of the connection be-
tween race and ethnicity: “I would say it’s [race and ethnicity] the same
thing. Well if you say race, you would say you’re Latino race, and ethnic-
ity, is your specific type of Latino . . . because then the type of Latino, is
your ethnicity. If you can just imagine any professional sport, like I play
basketball. That is the race, and the ethnicity is the certain team you play
for. That is the way I think of it. So Latino would be the general sport,
and Mexican would be the team you play for, like the Bulls.” As Danny
implies, ethnicity and race are distinct yet interrelated. In viewing La-
tino as the National Basketball Association and Mexican as the Bulls,
he envisions race as the larger category that contains different ethnici-
ties, each corresponding to a different national origin. Another youth,
twenty- eight- year- old second- generation Edwin, who identifies ethni-
cally as Mexican and racially as Hispanic, states that race “mean[s] the
same as ethnicity. Mexican and Hispanic have very close meanings and
to me they have always been interchangeable.” Because these concepts
are interwoven, and relevant in their daily lives, many millennials use
them interchangeably and often simultaneously.
Youths who couple ethnicity and race indirectly deploy different
terms depending on the context. For Blanca, a twenty- four- year- old
second- generation woman who identifies ethnically as Mexican and
racially as Hispanic, how the “what are you” question is asked shapes
her answer. She states, “If I’m asked ‘What’s your nationality?’ I usually
say ‘Mexican.’ If it’s not specific [to nationality] then I’m, ‘Well, yeah,
I’m Hispanic.’” The format of the question also shapes how Dolores, a
twenty- eight- year- old fourth- generation Mexican who identifies ethni-
cally and racially as Hispanic, answers questions about race, even when
the choices presented are inaccurate. Dolores explains, “When race is
discussed, usually we’re told that as Hispanics, that unless you’re black,
you’re white, so especially when we check demographic boxes and things
like that, so it weird for me to say white ’cause they say Hispanic isn’t a
race so I guess according to the Census Bureau it would be white but
that’s, umm, [in those cases] I prefer to identify ethnically and culturally
rather than racially.”
Like Dolores, these youths were quick to observe that their responses
on official forms depend on the options available to them. If they are

64 | L at i n o s as a n Et h n o r ac e
free to choose, they may use national origin, panethnic terms, or a com-
bination of these as they did in this study. But when the choices are lim-
ited, such as in the closed- ended questions on official forms, they often
do not find the appropriate category to check. Carina, a twenty- two-
year- old second- generation woman who identifies ethnically as Mexi-
can American and racially as “other,” conveys the intricate contextual
nature of identification among Latinos. Carina explains, “The term that
I identify myself with . . . It depends on the situation that I am in. If it’s
like a form and it gives you the categories, say it says Caucasian, black,
and Hispanic/Latina, I pick Hispanic/Latina. If it is between Hispanic/
Latina, I go with Latina. But if it gets more in detail I would go Mexican
American . . . but if it comes out of my free will I would identify more
as a Mexican American.” As Carina states, when a Hispanic/Latino cat-
egory is not among the options, as is often the case on official forms that
ask for race, many youths are baffled, and they feel they do not fit into
any of the categories.
Being forced to choose from standard categories that exclude His-
panic/Latino as an option is a daunting, and often exasperating, task.
Danila, a twenty- two- year- old second- generation woman who identifies
ethnically as Mexican and racially as Latina, explains how it feels when
she has to choose among ill- fitting racial categories. She says, “It’s hard
because I don’t fall into the white or black category. I mean, I don’t look
white, but I don’t look black either. I have a medium skin complexion,
but I would not consider myself white. I think it’s unfair as to how we
have to be either white or black. I don’t fit into either one, so it gets
me frustrated.” As Danila conveys, current racial options do not work
for Latinos. She, like many other Latino millennials, chooses Hispanic/
Latino if that option is available. José, a twenty- eight- year- old second-
generation man who identifies ethnically as Mexican and Cuban but
who struggled to find a suitable racial designation and finally selected,
hesitantly, “American?” for race, insists that government forms “should
have a check box for Latino and Hispanic.” If there is no check box for
this option, José says, “I would fill out the ‘other’ [and write in] Latino/
Hispanic.” Overall, these youths’ narratives attest to the interchangeable,
simultaneous, and contextual nature of ethnicity and race for Latino
millennials, which renders the separation of ethnicity and race, as well
as the separation of national origin and panethnic terms, meaningless.

L at i n o s as a n Et h n o r ac e | 65
The Latino Prototype
The second element of the ethnoracial framework involves, in Alcoff ’s
(2009, 122) words, being “identified and identifiable by bodily mor-
phology that allows for both group affinity as well as group exclusion
and denigration,” or what I simply term the Latino prototype. In their
narratives, Latino millennials say that there is a Latino prototype or a
Latino look that enables them to identify fellow Latinos and also enables
others— Latinos and non- Latinos alike— to identify them and their peers
as Latinos. They describe the physical traits that are linked to Latinos as
tanned skin, black hair, dark eyes, and average height. David, a twenty-
four- year- old second- generation man who identifies ethnically as Latino
and racially as Mexican, says that Latinos are identifiable because “the
color of their skin is brownish [and] usually they are average height.”
Liz, who was introduced earlier in the chapter, says, “I would have to say
that the most stereotypical are the skin color and just overall the facial
features. I would say that I am considered Latina by my traits.” Body
morphology— or Latinos’ appearance— is a visible trait that identifies
them as Latinos, at least initially.
About 57 percent of the Latino millennials in my study say that they are
perceived by others exclusively as Latinos, or, as Martín, a twenty- year-
old third- generation man who identifies ethically and racially as Mexican
American, bluntly puts it, “They would identify me as Latino or Hispanic.”
They point to their physical traits as the main reason they are seen as La-
tinos. Daniel, a twenty- two- year- old second- generation man who identi-
fies ethnically as Costa Rican and racially as American, is convinced that
he is seen as Latino “just based on my physical appearance. I think the
easiest way to classify me would be to just say, ‘Oh, he’s obviously of Span-
ish descent or Hispanic or something of the sort.’” These youths know
that people may not be able to tell what “sort” of Latino they are, some-
thing that Zulema, a twenty- four- year- old second- generation woman who
identifies ethnically as Hispanic and racially as Mexican, alludes to when
saying, “I pretty much think that people can tell I’m Mexican, and if they
can’t, they know that I am of some sort of Hispanic background.” Because
these youths look unmistakably Latino— that is, they match the Latino
prototype— others readily assume that they are “some sort” of Latino, and
therefore they are rarely questioned about their race or ethnicity.

66 | L at i n o s as a n Et h n o r ac e
More often than not, the “sort” of Latino these millennials are iden-
tified as is Mexican. Their narratives show that Mexican is the default
national origin category for Latinos in Chicago. That is, others equate
Hispanic or Latino with Mexican and use these terms interchangeably
regardless of an individual’s actual national origin. Consequentially,
non- Mexicans are often assumed to be Mexican. Mariann, a twenty-
five- year- old second- generation woman who identifies ethnically and
racially as Puerto Rican, says, “You might be mistaken for being Mexi-
can.” Eric, whose narrative was presented earlier, points out that Latinos
are homogenized as Mexicans. Eric feels “that to most Americans, we
are all the same. Most recently, people are learning that there is a differ-
ence between Mexican and the rest of Latin America, but mostly because
of the increasing Mexican population in the United States. However, I
feel that when it comes down to it, they view us as all the same. When
one thinks of a Latino regardless of what country he is from— Brazil,
Panama, or any other Latino country— they all just view us as Mexicans
and living by Mexican culture.” To Eric, the labeling of all Latinos as
Mexican is largely due to Mexicans’ disproportionate representation in
the Latino population in comparison to other Latino groups. Thomas, a
twenty- three- year- old second- generation man who identifies ethnically
as Guatemalan and racially as Hispanic, echoes this feeling by stating,
“Most people think I’m Mexican or something. Nobody can ever guess
my ethnicity. There’s just not a lot of Guatemalans out there. I’m really
dark for a Guatemalan, but I guess I do look the part. Curious, but most
probably assume I’m Mexican or Asian.”
Non- Mexican youths who are assumed to be Mexicans react nega-
tively to the mislabeling. This exasperates Mike, a twenty- eight- year- old
second- generation man who identifies ethnically as Colombian and ra-
cially as Hispanic but who is often mistaken for Mexican. He observes
regional differences in the labeling of Latinos. According to him, misla-
beling as Mexican happens less often “on the East Coast because people
are more knowledgeable in the East Coast. In the Midwest it is white,
black and Mexican. On the east coast it is black, white, Haitian, Jamai-
can, Puerto Rican, Dominican, Guatemalan, Colombian, Salvadoran.”
While Mike sees the East Coast as more racially diverse, particularly
among Latino groups, he considers the Midwest less diverse, resulting in
the lack of recognition for non- Mexican Latinos. Consequently, Latinos

L at i n o s as a n Et h n o r ac e | 67
tend to fall under the Mexican label, particularly among non- Latinos
who make little distinction between Latino groups.
The prominence of skin color for racial ascription shows that La-
tino millennials with darker skin are frequently classified as Mexican
while those with lighter skin are assumed to be Puerto Rican or South
American. The only Latino national group to which light- skinned mil-
lennials are ascribed is Puerto Ricans; otherwise, they are assigned the
generic South American label. For instance, Jim, a twenty- four- year- old
third- generation man who identifies ethnically as Latino and racially as
Mexican, says, “Sometimes people think I am Puerto Rican. Maybe it’s
because of my haircut. I am also light- skinned, so they don’t look at me
as Mexican because most true Mexicans are darker than I am.” Similarly,
Octavio, a twenty- year- old second- generation man who identifies ethni-
cally as Mexican and racially as Hispanic, shares similar experiences by
saying, “Sometimes people think I look Puerto Rican. But most of the
time people think that I look Mexican.”
Having lighter skin also leads to perceptions of South American
origin. Nikki, a twenty- two- year- old second- generation woman who
identifies ethnically as Mexican American and racially as Mexican, says
that she does not “look Mexican, so they always ask are you Spanish
from South America. They see some Latino in me, but they never know
exactly from where. That’s the main question, and then usually people
get surprised I speak Spanish.” Orlando, a twenty- two- year- old second-
generation man who identifies ethnically as Mexican/Chicano/Latino
and racially as white, says that “the majority of the people don’t think
I’m Mexican. They think I’m usually from South America. . . . No one
ever thinks I’m Mexican.”
Even among Latinos, ascertaining national origin is often diffi-
cult, particularly for the so- called other Latinos, or those who are not
Mexican or Puerto Rican. As Esther, a twenty- one- year- old second-
generation woman who identifies ethnically as Ecuadorian and racially
as Hispanic/Latino, says, “Usually Latinos can tell I’m Latino. When
they talk to me they know I’m Latino. But they can’t specify Ecuador-
ian, or anything, but if they do they’ll say Mexican or Puerto Rican.
But, that’s pretty much how people identify me.” Similarly, Adamaris,
a twenty- one- year- old second- generation woman who identifies ethni-
cally as Guatemalan and racially as Latina, says that rarely is she asked,

68 | L at i n o s as a n Et h n o r ac e
“What are you?” because people generally assume that she is “Mexican
or Puerto Rican.  .  .  . Because they’ve told me that I look Mexican or
Puerto Rican. People assume that I am.”
These youths think that Latinos are more adept than non- Latinos at
distinguishing between Latino subgroups. These distinctions are based
primarily on skin color and secondarily on other contextual markers.
While non- Latinos rely mostly on skin color to ascertain someone’s race,
Latinos take into account phenotype and nonphysical markers to ascribe
ethnicity and race. This comes through in the narrative of Christine,
an eighteen- year- old second- generation woman who identifies ethni-
cally as Mexican and racially as Hispanic. Christine explains, “When I
was younger people thought I was Polish. And then I got older, people
would ask. I might tell them to guess, and they’d say like Polish or Puerto
Rican, and I’d say ‘No, no,’ and they’d ask me again and I’d say, ‘Mexican.’
With other Latinos it’s kind of like ‘Oh, yeah.’ It’s like the term ‘you’ve
got a cactus on your forehead,’ like you know who’s Mexican and who
is not kind of thing, so you have a cactus on your forehead, you have a
trademark of being Mexican.” In this narrative, Christine conjures the
popular Mexican saying “tiene el nopal en la frente” (“you have a cac-
tus on the forehead”) to explain that Latinos can usually tell that she is
Mexican because of her facial features, while non- Latinos rely on skin-
color and thus mistake her for white or Puerto Rican. Ricky, who earlier
stated that he prefers to identify solely as Mexican, references his darker
skin color as well as his Mexican peer group as the reasons people as-
sume that he is Mexican despite his being partly Puerto Rican. Ricky
explains, “I hang out with Mexicans, I guess I look more Mexican, and I
think I am more Mexican. . . . I’m darker and I’m short. . . . Well, at least
compared to all the Puerto Ricans I know. My mom is lighter too. I got
more of my dad’s color. I have a few lighter Mexican friends, but most
Mexicans are darker.” Edwin, who argued earlier that race and ethnic-
ity are interchangeable, also points to his peer group as the giveaway
of his presumed national origin. He believes that people “are surprised
when I tell them I’m Mexican. Everyone just assumes I’m Puerto Rican
because I hang out with a lot of Puerto Ricans.” Adding to a previous
statement, Zulema says that people assume she is Mexican because of
her looks and “especially because I live around the Pilsen area, so a ma-
jority of people that live there are either Mexican or Hispanic in one way

L at i n o s as a n Et h n o r ac e | 69
or another.” While her looks give away her Latin American origin, her
Chicago neighborhood ensures she is seen as Mexican.
About 43 percent of the Latino millennials in my study say that while
they are seen as Latinos, they are sometimes mistaken as members of
other non- Latino ethnoracial groups— mostly as white and Middle East-
ern and to a lesser extent as black, Asian, or Native American. These
youths describe themselves as being more racially ambiguous, and their
narratives attest to the phenotypic diversity among Latinos. Diego, a
twenty- two- year- old second- generation man, points to the fallacy of
the Latino prototype:
It’s all in the mind. In this day and age, there’s not one particular way that
a Mexican or Chicano looks. They’re not light- skinned. They’re not dark-
skinned. They’re everything in between. There’s dark Mexicans. There’s
light Mexicans. Typically I would say there’s like an image if you think
about someone Mexican or whatever. But I don’t think that’s true, that
image. Especially now. You have Mexicans with blond hair and blue eyes.
You have Mexicans with darker skin. You have Mexicans that look indig-
enous. It’s everything in between. So, it’s really up here. Like identifying
yourself as that and then being able to break those stereotypes of what a
Mexican or Chicano should look like.
As Diego says, “there’s like an image if you think about someone
Mexican,” but he believes “that’s not true.” Not fitting into the prototype
can lead to one’s being mistaken for a member of a different ethnoracial
group.
Based on their descriptions, those who say that they are sometimes
mislabeled as non- Latino do not fit— or only partially fit— the Latino
prototype. Only two youths in my study said that they are at times seen
as black and attribute this to their skin color and hair texture. Roberto,
a twenty- five- year- old second- generation man who identifies ethnically
as Puerto Rican and racially as Hispanic, says that although many people
recognize him as Hispanic, there are some “people [who] call me black.
They call me Arabian.” Similarly, Niurka, a twenty- two- year- old second-
generation woman who identifies ethnically as Dominican and racially
as Hispanic, says, “Some people mistake me for being black because I am
darker and my hair is coarse. They see that I’m darker complexioned but

70 | L at i n o s as a n Et h n o r ac e
not really dark and they see the texture of my hair.” Also, only one Latino
millennial, Raúl, a twenty- one- year- old second- generation man who
identifies ethnically as Mexican and racially as indigenous, reported
that sometimes he is perceived as Native American. Raúl says, “I guess
it really depends on the person, and the region which they are from.
Some people, I guess, because of my skin tone, they would just identify
me as Mexican. Other people, I guess, based on their experiences, have
thought that I’m a Native American, because of my long hair. . . . I think
more because of my physical features and my brown skin, I guess it gives
them more of a clear idea of my ethnic background, which they prob-
ably would think is something of Hispanic or Latino.” Like Niurka, Raúl
identifies his phenotype, skin color, and hair as the traits that lead others
to see him as Native American. Raúl was the only youth who reported
being mistaken for Native American, a fact that may be related to the
low number of Native Americans in the Chicago region.
Some youths say that they are sometimes mistaken as Asian because
of their ambiguous looks. Elianna, a twenty- year- old second- generation
woman who identifies ethnically as Mexican and racially as Hispanic,
says, “I think it’s because I’m more light- skinned and it becomes kind of
ambiguous to what my race is, so there’s kinds of questions about that
whether I’m Asian, Pacific Islander, whatever.” Ana, a twenty- two- year-
old second- generation Guatemalan who identifies ethnically and racially
as Latina, is often assumed to be Filipina, while Arielle, a twenty- one-
year- old second- generation woman who identifies ethnically as Latina/
Hispanic and racially as Mexican, reports, “Sometimes they will be like
‘Oh, are you Chinese or Filipino?’ and I will be like ‘Oh, no. I am this ac-
tually,’ and they’d be like ‘Oh, you look like you could be,’ you know they
list the whole list of other things I could be.” Pablo, a sixteen- year- old
second- generation high school student who identifies ethnically and ra-
cially as Mexican American, says, “They think I am Filipino because of
my eyes and stuff, but mostly [people think I am] Mexican.” Appearance
is not the only reason they are asked if they are Asian. Justin, a twenty-
three- year- old second- generation Mexican who identifies ethnically as
Mexican and racially as Latino, says that he has been asked if he is Asian
not only because of his phenotype but also because he has an Asian-
sounding last name as well as a quiet demeanor. Justin explains, “Based
on my physical features . . . physiological features, they always get con-

L at i n o s as a n Et h n o r ac e | 71
fused if I’m Asian or not especially in high school, since they knew me
by my last name. They thought I was from Japan or something because
I used to be very shy, very reserved back then, and they thought [my
last name] was my first name. So that’s why they thought I was Japanese
because I would never speak and they thought I had an English speaking
problem back then.” Justin’s racially ambiguous traits, in combination
with his quiet demeanor and unusual last name, led some people to as-
sume that he is Japanese.
Most of the Latino millennials who are mislabeled as members of
another ethnoracial group are assumed to be white based on their physi-
cal features and skin color. I found that there are gender differences in
“what sort of white” young men and young women are perceived to be.
Those who were labeled “generically” white are slightly more likely to
be young women, while those who are perceived to be of Mediterranean
ancestry tend to be young men. For instance, Katerina, a nineteen- year-
old second- generation woman who identifies ethnically as Ecuador-
ian and racially as Hispanic, is certain that she “mostly gets mistaken
as [white] . . . like I wouldn’t get picked out as a Hispanic because my
light skin complexion and my hair is light. And I don’t have all those
dark features that a typical Hispanic would have.” Likewise, Samantha,
a twenty- two- year- old second- generation woman who identifies ethni-
cally as Mexican and Puerto Rican, says, “Everyone thinks I’m white be-
cause I have very light skin and I don’t speak Spanish that well. I guess,
I don’t speak Spanish fluently.” While young women cited their looks
as the reason they are mistaken as white, young men pointed to con-
textual factors that contributed to being mistaken as white. Although
David argued earlier that Latinos are identifiable by their brownish skin
color and short height, he goes on to say that people assume he is white
because “I think it is basically the way I look. I have light skin and I dress
very preppy. Also I feel like if people see me with my friends or my fian-
cée, who are all white, they would assume that I am white too.” Because
David’s peer group is white, he believes that others are more likely to
dismiss any thoughts of him as a Latino.
Unlike young women who tended to be perceived as “generically”
white, young men were more likely viewed as being Italian or Greek.
For instance, Ramiro, a twenty- seven- year- old third- generation man
who identifies ethnically as Hispanic and racially as Mexican Ameri-

72 | L at i n o s as a n Et h n o r ac e
can, says, “Sometimes they [people] think I’m Italian. They’ll ask me
if I’m either Italian or Hispanic.” Likewise, Nick, a nineteen- year- old
third- generation man who identifies ethnically as Cuban and racially as
Hispanic American, says that “they’d identify me as Mexican or Italian
purely based on my looks. . . . I think I look Cuban, but I also look white,
I’ve been told. People often think I’m Italian.” Leo, a twenty- six- year- old
second- generation man who identifies ethnically as Latino and racially
as Mexican, explains why he is often mistaken for Italian or Greek. He
states, “Many people think that I am Greek or Italian because of the way
I look. I have an olive complexion and green eyes and I guess people
associate that with Italians and Greeks. . . . I think I look Mexican, but I
can understand why people confuse that sometimes. I don’t care. I just
make sure to correct them. . . . I want people to know where I came from
and what I am. I am proud to be a Latino.” Leo understands that his
physical traits lead to others’ assumption that he is Italian or Greek, but
he sets them straight. Although women were less likely to be perceived
as having Mediterranean ancestry, a few said they have been. Sofia, who
was introduced earlier in the chapter, says that sometimes people think
she is Italian. She explains:
I get a lot of people telling me Italian, um, Mexican, I get a lot of Hispanic,
anything, I’ve gotten so much different stuff, even at work I’ve gotten like,
Mediterranean and, um, most people can tell that I’m Italian and Mexi-
can. . . . Me personally I think I fit the description [laughs]. I look in the
mirror and I look Mexican to myself, but people have said I’ve been other
things, but I think I look [Mexican], people talk to me in Spanish when I
go into stores, they think I speak Spanish.
Although Sofia may look Italian or Mediterranean to some, she believes
that she fits the Latino prototype. That people address her in Spanish
while she is shopping confirms her belief that to other Latinos, she looks
Latina.
Another gender difference played out in who was perceived to be
a Middle Easterner. Generally young men, and not young women, are
perceived as Middle Eastern. For instance, Carlos, a twenty- four- year-
old third- generation man who identifies ethnically as Mexican Guate-
malan and racially as white, says, “If someone looks at me, they would

L at i n o s as a n Et h n o r ac e | 73
think that I am whatever I look like to them. So people have identified
me in the past as Middle Easterner, some European ethnicity, or as just
Hispanic. . . . Just sometimes they ask me questions. I just sometimes
get asked what ethnicity I am.” Jorge, a twenty- three- year- old third-
generation man who identifies ethnically as Mexican and racially as La-
tino, says that he looks both “Mexican and white. A lot of people think
[that] to be Mexican you have to be dark, but those people are just ig-
norant. I am a light- skinned Mexican and I think I look kind of white. I
could definitely pass off for a Middle Easterner or Italian.” For Jorge, it
was his light skin color that led to his being mistaken as Middle Eastern
or Italian, since people tend to think of Mexicans as darker.
Although less frequently, some young women say they have been
mistaken as Middle Easterners. Sarah, a twenty- one- year- old second-
generation woman who identifies ethnically as Hispanic and racially as
Mexican, says, “I’ve been asked if I was Greek, Italian, Syrian, and Mid-
dle Eastern in general.” Another young Latina, Elissa, a nineteen- year-
old second- generation woman who identifies ethnically as Mexican/
Hispanic and racially as Mexican, states that “in the past, though, maybe
a few people thought I was a Middle Easterner.” Given that people tend
to associate the Middle East with Islam, it is possible that young Latinas
were less likely to be identified as Middle Easterners because they do not
display signs that may mark them as Muslim, such as wearing the hijab
or head scarf.
Invariably, Latino millennials encountered the question: “What are
you?” This question is faced more frequently by those who are not easily
classifiable due to ambiguous physical traits, as well as by those whose
physical traits may not match their cultural traits. Lisa, a twenty- five-
year- old second- generation woman who identifies ethnically as Colom-
bian and racially as none, sheds light on this issue when saying, “People
don’t know what I am, so [they ask me] all the time. I guess in high
school and in college at some point you’re asked ‘Oh, what nationality
are you?, ‘Are you mixed?,’ ‘Where did you come from?,’ ‘Do you speak
Spanish?’ I guess, it always comes into conversation.” Similar to Lisa’s
experiences, others often cannot select a racial label for Blanca, who
stated earlier that people often ask her about her nationality. Blanca says
that “some people ask me [what I am] because they don’t know. Then
they’ll be like ‘Really? Because you don’t seem Mexican.’ But for the

74 | L at i n o s as a n Et h n o r ac e
most part all my close friends I’ve known for a while so it doesn’t really
come up anymore. . . . A lot of times I think it’s because, I don’t know, I
don’t speak Spanish, I don’t know why they expect something different.
Maybe because I’m pale.” Blanca’s pale skin color and her inability to
speak Spanish lead to this questioning. Recall José, who denounced the
lack of a suitable racial designation but who is also not easily identifi-
able and is often mistaken for Asian Indian or Middle Eastern. Because
of his physical appearance, he is often asked about his origin. He says,
“If they asked me ‘where are you from?,’ [I say] ‘I’m American.’ ‘Well,
OK. Where is your family from?’ is usually the question I get. Usually
when Hispanics ask me, or actually Indian, or Middle Eastern, ’cause I
guess I look [like them], they think I am [Indian or Middle Eastern].
They’ll be like ‘Where are you from?’ ‘Well, I’m from here. I’m from
Chicago, I’m American.’ And then they’ll ask me again, ‘Oh, I’m sorry
where is your family from?’ and that’s when I answer them.” Jose’s narra-
tive conveys the racial ambiguity that marks these youths and that leads
to often passing as Mediterranean (Greek or Italian), Middle Eastern,
Native American, or Asian.
Knowing that he looks racially ambiguous, José takes the “what are
you” questioning in stride. Not so for Priscilla, a twenty- six- year- old
who identifies ethnically and racially as Mexican American and who
is really irked by these questions. Priscilla explains, “In terms of people
commenting on my ethnicity, I tend to have people that are surprised
because there is a big perception about what Mexicans should be like. I
guess they should look like more ethnic and by that I mean like more in-
digenous features, a darker complexion, and obviously I am pretty fair-
skinned and definitely do not have a lot of indigenous characteristics. If
anything I have more of the French or the Spanish characteristics that
kind of happened when those people came to Mexico.” Priscilla attri-
butes the incessant questioning to her not fitting the Latino prototype
because she is “pretty fair- skinned” and does not have “a lot of indige-
nous characteristics.” And while mislabeling is a common experience for
Latino millennials, it is short- lived, as people usually figure out quickly
that these youths are Latinos. And once their Latin American ancestry
is revealed, they are no longer seen as anything but Latino, pointing to
the weight of Latin American ancestry.

L at i n o s as a n Et h n o r ac e | 75
The Weight of Latin American Ancestry
The third element of the ethnoracial framework stresses the impact that
millennials’ Latin American ancestry has on how they are perceived
racially. Based on their Latin American origin and its accompanying
imputation of particular cultural traits, these youths are assumed to be
Latinos regardless of how well they fit into the Latino physical and/or
cultural prototype. Once they are recognized as Latino because of their
physical traits, cultural traits, or ancestry, other racial labels are out of
contention. That is, being identified as Latino dismisses any previous
assumption that they are white or that they fit any of the standard races.
Even those who can physically pass as white are reassigned racially as
soon as it becomes apparent that they are Latino. That their ethnoracial
standing is ultimately based on ancestry and not solely on their cultural
or physical traits points to the weight of Latin American ancestry.
This weight comes through clearly in the narratives of youths who do
not meet the Latino prototype— and particularly those who are initially
assumed to be white— but are reclassified as Latinos once their ancestry is
divulged. Some youths may not look Latino, but cultural traits give them
away, especially speaking Spanish. Javier, a twenty- four- year- old second-
generation man who identifies ethnically as Mexican and racially as La-
tino, says that people assume he is white until he speaks Spanish:
Well, when I first meet someone, they think I’m white because I’m very
light. But, when they hear me speak Spanish, then they ask me what I
am. . . . Well, most of the time, if people don’t know who I am, they think
that I’m white. That can sometimes bother me because I don’t want my
family to think that I am denying that I’m Mexican, but I can’t walk up
to everyone I see and say, “Hi my name is Javier, and I’m Mexican!” you
know? . . . Well, I mean, they know that people think I’m white. When we
all go out together, you can tell people look at us differently.
Javier is aware that he might look white, but when he speaks Spanish,
people stop seeing him as white. Often he chooses to “pass” because for
him, it is just not worth the effort to correct every person who mistakes
him as white.

76 | L at i n o s as a n Et h n o r ac e
While these Latino millennials may pass initially as white, once their
Latin American ancestry is revealed, the way people see them and in-
teract with them changes. Laura, a twenty- year- old second- generation
woman who identifies ethnically and racially as Mexican, says that peo-
ple generally assume that she is white but quickly realign their racial
ascription once they find out that she is Mexican.
I’m white, as you see, and the part I’m from we are very light, so that’s
not the typical stereotype of what they think about Mexicans. So when
they look at me, they’re like, “You’re not Mexican.” . . . I think sometimes
people take you for like the typical stereotype, and for me I think I had
a little different experience because I look white. They kind of never cat-
egorized me as Mexican at first. So their impressions of me are like, “Oh,
you’re white, OK.” But once they find out I’m a minority, for some reason
it kind of changes, and I don’t know why but they kind of like feel sorry
for me. Like if I say, “Oh, my parents are immigrants,” they are like . . . I
don’t know, it’s just like the feeling I get and it’s like totally different from
when they first approached me, and I don’t if it’s because they know I’m
Mexican now and they’re like “Oh!” or it’s like shock because I told them
I’m Mexican.
When Laura sets people straight by telling them that she is Mexican, she
can sense a change. Although she is still the same person, their percep-
tion and treatment of her often change.
Sometimes it is the incongruity of physical looks and ethnic
markers— such as last names or Spanish language— that triggers a
change in categorization. For instance, people often think that Jasmine,
a twenty- three- year- old third- generation woman who identifies ethni-
cally as Puerto Rican and racially as human, is white because of her phe-
notype and her first name. When they find out her last name, they are
startled because it is a very common Spanish- sounding last name. Jas-
mine explains, “People might say I’m Caucasian, or European. They ask
me because my last name is obviously Spanish, but they can’t figure out
why I look the way I do. So I often get asked ‘Are you Hispanic?’ ‘Are you
mixed?’ A lot of people think I’m mixed.” Jasmine notices the change in
people’s attitudes toward her when they realize that she is Latina. Not
being able to reconcile her “white” first name and appearance with a

L at i n o s as a n Et h n o r ac e | 77
Spanish last name leads others to assume that she must not be a full-
blooded Latina and is instead a half- white Latina. Carina, who earlier
pointed to the contextual nature of identification, adds that questions of
her racial identity arise when she speaks Spanish. Carina says, “I have
been asked just because people don’t know what I am. People say that I
am either white or Middle Eastern, and once I start speaking Spanish,
then they puzzle it together and get that I am Latina or Hispanic.” As
these narratives illustrative, cultural cues are used by others to realign
their perceptions of race among light- skinned Latinos.
Youths who do not fit into the Latino prototype physically or cul-
turally cannot escape ethnic ascription based on their Latin American
ancestry. For instance, Dario, a twenty- one- year- old third- generation
man who identifies ethnically and racially as Latino, affirms that despite
lacking the cultural and physical traits associated with Mexicans, he is
still perceived as Mexican by non- Latinos. Dario explains, “If I would
have to say, [it would be] someone with a Spanish- speaking background,
brownish skin, dark hair. That is what people think I should look like,
but obviously you do not need to have those kinds of traits in order to be
labeled as a Mexican. . . . I guess I would be like half Mexican or some-
thing. I know very little Spanish and do not have brown, but very pale
white skin. I guess I’m like an Americanized Mexican.” With this nar-
rative, Dario argues that being labeled Mexican has more to do with his
Latin American ancestry than with meeting physical and cultural mark-
ers. By his own account, Dario is Americanized and points to his lack of
Spanish fluency as proof of his tenuous cultural attachment to Mexican
culture. Like Dario, it does not matter how marginal other Latino mil-
lennials’ cultural attachment or appearance is to the Latino ideal; they
cannot escape the Latino label because of their Latin American ancestry.
This issue becomes more transparent in the experiences of multieth-
nic Latinos, particularly those who are half white. These youths are not
immune to racialization as Latinos despite their white cultural or physi-
cal characteristics, or their half- white heritage. In a study of multiethnic
Mexicans who had one white parent, Jiménez (2004) found that most
multiethnics identify as Mexican American despite their partial white
ethnic background. He attributes their ethnic identification as Mexican
American to the weight that skin color, surname, and attachment to
Mexican ethnicity have on the ability to “pass” as white. Jiménez found

78 | L at i n o s as a n Et h n o r ac e
that only those with light skin color and a non- Latino surname can ex-
ercise ethnic options, and that among these, Mexican ethnicity is sym-
bolic only for those with a thin attachment to their Mexican heritage.
Like Jiménez, I found that Latino millennials who can claim white racial
status because one of their parents is white still shy away from white-
ness. Sally, a twenty- two- year- old second- generation woman who iden-
tifies ethnically as Mexican Albanian and racially as Latina, points to her
physical features— and not the fact that one of her parents is white— as
the reason “most people assume I’m white. They’re surprised that I’m
Mexican, probably because of my red hair. They probably think I’m Irish
or something!” Although Sally could claim to be white because she has
one white parent, she does not identify as white and believes that people
initially mistake her for white. Sally’s partial Latin American ancestry
supersedes her white looks and also her white ancestry.
In a sense, these youths’ narratives show that having Latin Ameri-
can ancestry automatically excludes them from being perceived as white
even when they do not meet the Latino prototype physically or cultur-
ally. Like Jiménez (2010), Telles and Ortiz (2008), and Vasquez (2010), I
found that traits that denote white assimilation, such as physical (light
skin), cultural (Spanish language), and personal (middle class) charac-
teristics, do not blur the boundaries that separate Latinos as a distinct
social group. Because only two youths said they look black— and none
identified racially as black— I cannot ascertain if Latin American ances-
try has the same weight among dark- skinned Latinos. However, com-
parative data from Florida with a larger sample of dark- skinned Latinos
suggest that Latin American ancestry may also supersede others’ clas-
sification of dark- skinned Latinos as blacks (Flores- González, Aranda,
and Vaquera 2014).
Ethnorace: Merging Ethnicity and Race
The narratives presented in this chapter illustrate Latino millennials’
reluctance to choose from ill- fitting conventional racial categories that
do not reflect their reality. Lacking a meaningful racial label solidi-
fies their status as marginal and invisible racial subjects. Their racial
experiences, as well as how others perceive and treat them, lead them
to reject the standard racial categories and to think of themselves as a

L at i n o s as a n Et h n o r ac e | 79
separate ethnoracial group made up of people of Latin American origin.
In the absence of a suitable racial term, these youths select panethnic
labels that are meaningful to them and that are recognized by others
as representative of people of Latin American origin. In using national
origin and panethnic labels— often interchangeably, simultaneously,
and contextually— these youths defy the division of ethnicity and race
by blurring their conceptual boundaries. In doing so, Latino millenni-
als challenge current racial framing that keeps them as marginal— and
practically invisible— players in the American racial landscape.
These youths’ self- understandings, as well as how they are under-
stood by others, are best captured by Alcoff ’s (2009) ethnoracial frame-
work. First, they couple ethnicity and race as equivalent concepts that
can be used separately, simultaneously, and/or interchangeably. Second,
they emphasize the role of body morphology in defining a Latino pro-
totype as most people share an idea of what a Latino should look like.
Third, these youths highlight the weight of Latin American ancestry in
their identification, particularly when they lack the physical traits that
give away their Latino status. Finally, these youths believe they are part
of a distinct ethnorace. When they reject ill- fitting and inaccurate ra-
cial labels in favor of more meaningful and representative labels, these
youths make themselves visible and relevant, and claim their rightful
place in the U.S. racial landscape.

80
4
Latinos as a Racial Middle
Esther is a twenty- one- year- old second- generation Ecuadorian whose
narrative reflects how Latino millennials think of the U.S. racial hierar-
chy and their place in it. Along with most millennials, she believes that
the racial hierarchy is characterized by a color line that places whites
on one side and blacks on the other side, and that Latinos occupy an
intermediate location— between whites and blacks. When asked, “In the
U.S., we tend to think of race in terms of a black and white dichotomy.
Where do you and people like you fall within this dichotomy?” Esther
responded, “I don’t think that we fall on either side. Probably some-
where in between, because, well sometimes physically, people confuse
me for white, but I’m not. I don’t fit into the white stereotype. And for
black, I don’t think that I can be grouped with them either. There’s a few
things from black people and white people that I experience the same
as them. I would say that I don’t really fall on either side, I fall in the
middle.”
Like Esther’s, other Latino millennials’ narratives show that binary
notions of the racial structure fail to account for Latinos’ racial expe-
riences as nonwhite and nonblack. Although these youths seemingly
advocate for a triracial structure with whites at the top, blacks at the
bottom, and Latinos occupying an intermediate racial location, their
accounts actually reveal a more complex conceptualization of the ra-
cial hierarchy and of what has been deemed the “racial middle.” In this
chapter, I examine how Latino millennials understand the U.S. racial
structure, how they conceptualize the “racial middle,” and how these
conceptions underscore the need for reconfiguring the U.S. racial
structure. Being relegated to the white or black side of the color line
or lumped together with other groups in the racial middle glosses over
these youths’ particular experiences of racialization and contributes to
their sense of racial exclusion and marginalization from the American
imagined community.

L at i n o s as a R ac ia l M i d d l e | 81
These youths’ narratives challenge popular notions of the racial struc-
ture as a binary marked by a sharp color line that divides whites and
blacks and assumes that Latinos, as a racially diverse group, are sub-
sumed under the white or black racial categories depending on their
individual (and mostly phenotypic) characteristics. It is assumed that
most Latinos fall on the white side of the color line. Objective measures
such as Latinos’ higher intermarriage rates, lower residential segrega-
tion, “white” political views, and racial identification as “white” are
taken as signs that Latinos are “like white” or “becoming white” (Lee
and Bean 2010; Warren and Twine 1997; Yancey 2003). It is also assumed
that while social distance between Latinos and whites is decreasing, an
unyielding color line continues to mark blacks as a separate and more
disadvantaged racial group (Gans 1999; Sears and Savalei 2006). It is
expected that as Latinos, whites, and Asians “gel” together, the white/
black binary will change into a nonblack/black binary still characterized
by black exclusion (Gans 1999; Lee and Bean 2010; Warren and Twine
1997; Yancey 2003).
Another iteration of the binary racial structure poses that Latinos and
Asians, along with blacks, fall on the nonwhite side of the color line.
Arguing that Latinos are experiencing social browning, these scholars
contend that the boundaries of whiteness are impermeable, and that
whiteness will remain elusive for Latinos and Asians (Feagin and Cobas
2014; Takaki 1989). The color line is then characterized by a white/non-
white binary set to exclude Latinos, Asians, and blacks, relegating them
to a racialized status as minorities and preserving the privileged posi-
tion of whites. The narratives of the youths in this study clearly show
that there is a sharp line that separates whites— who are at the top of the
racial hierarchy— from other groups, but these youths also drew a line
separating blacks, who are at the bottom of the racial hierarchy.
Rather than viewing the racial structure as a nonblack/black or white/
nonwhite binary, the young millennials in my study conceptualized the
color line as a continuum, with whites at the top, blacks at the bottom,
and Latinos (as well as Asians, Native Americans, and Middle Eastern-
ers) occupying the space in between. Their assessment resonates with
those of scholars who argue for a triracial structure in which Latinos
and Asians occupy an intermediate position separate from whites
and blacks— or what has been called the “honorary white” or the ra-

82 | L at i n o s as a R ac ia l M i d d l e
cial middle (Bonilla- Silva 2004; Frank, Akresh, and Lu 2010; Forman,
Goar, and Lewis 2002; Murguia and Forman 2003; Murguia and Saenz
2002; O’Brien 2008; Roth 2012; Tuan 1999). Central to this approach is
Bonilla- Silva’s (2004) Latin Americanization model, which poses that
the boundaries of whiteness and blackness will expand to include light-
skinned and dark- skinned Latinos and Asians, respectively, but that the
majority of Latinos and Asians will occupy an intermediate racial cat-
egory he calls the “honorary whites.” Bonilla- Silva envisions this tier as a
permanent fixture that serves as a buffer between whites and blacks but
that lingers closer to the white tier, as honorary whites seek to further
distance themselves from blacks and vie for white privilege.
Although these youths clearly see themselves as a racial middle, their
conceptualization of the racial middle differs from Bonilla- Silva’s sin-
gle intermediate “catchall” racial tier. Rather, their narratives point to a
racial middle composed of multiple intermediate racial categories oc-
cupied by Asians, Latinos, Middle Easterners, and Native Americans,
respectively. They also challenge Bonilla- Silva’s reliance on skin color as
the dividing line in his three- tier hierarchy, as their narratives reveal that
skin color is part of a larger equation that includes social class, culture,
and language— these are the multiple characteristics that mark them
collectively as nonwhite and nonblack. These youths’ vision resonates
with studies pointing to a racial structure in which these groups occupy
distinct positions in the racial hierarchy corresponding to the different
and unique ways in which each is racialized (e.g., Frank, Akresh, and
Lu 2010; Hitlin, Brown, and Elder 2007; Hollinger 1995; Kim 1999; Omi
and Winant 2014; Park and Park 1999). Although not specifying what
shape it will take, they call for the rearticulation of the racial order to
accommodate Latinos. Yet, the racial middle remains largely an under-
theorized concept.
Particularly informative for my findings is the racial triangulation
model developed by Claire Jean Kim (1999). Kim problematizes the
conventional linear and hierarchical biracial and triracial conceptual-
izations by envisioning the racial order as a plane with two or more axes,
each of which reflects one of the multiple dimensions by which groups
are simultaneously racialized. Differences in group status, then, reflect
that group’s location along these axes in relation to other groups. Kim
identifies two axes or dimensions: “relative valorization” occurs when

L at i n o s as a R ac ia l M i d d l e | 83
the dominant group (i.e., whites) appraises two subordinate groups—
such as blacks and Asians— relative to each other; “civic ostracism” re-
fers to the degree to which a subordinate group is constructed as foreign
and unassimilable. Asian Americans, she explains, have been valorized
as “model minorities” over blacks’ “native minority” status but at the
same time are ostracized as “foreigners” and “not Americans” while
blacks’ status as citizens and Americans goes unquestioned. Although
Kim’s model does not include Latinos, hers is a fitting model for concep-
tualizing how Latino millennials think of their racial location.
Indeed, the narratives presented in the previous chapters— as well as
in this chapter— speak to these youths’ dual racialization along these
two dimensions: as native minorities (i.e., underachievers, criminals)
and as “illegal” immigrants (i.e., foreigners, not Americans). I found
that in making sense of their racial middle position, Latino millennials
compare their racial experiences with those of other groups. From their
narratives, it is evident that these youths see themselves as occupying a
slightly superior position than blacks, but a lower position than whites
and Asians, on the valorization scale. At the same time, they are lower
than these groups on the civic ostracism scale: while Asians and Latinos
share the “foreigner” status, it is Latinos who bear the stigma of illegality.
Their narratives then point to the existence of multiple racial middles
rather than a singular “catchall” racial middle.
The Racial Location of Latinos
In this chapter, I dig deeper into Latino youths’ racial understandings to
examine their conceptualization of the racial structure and their place
in it. I found that their narratives challenge our current notions of the
racial structure and the color line. My first central finding shows that
these youths’ narratives contest the assumption of a binary racial struc-
ture. A small fraction (less than a tenth) of the youths tried to fit into the
presumed binary racial structure by locating themselves on the white or
black side of the color line when they did not identify racially as such.
These youths tried to fit into these inadequate options, and most did so
reluctantly by choosing “by default” the least incompatible option. Yet,
settling for the “lesser of two evils” was not acceptable for a quarter of
the Latino millennials who instead simply refused to locate themselves

84 | L at i n o s as a R ac ia l M i d d l e
in the racial structure. These youths stated that they were “neither white
nor black” but did not offer an alternative vision of the racial structure.
In contrast, two- thirds of the Latino millennials did not hesitate to state
their racial location as “in the middle” or “in between.” These youths
clearly pushed for the redefinition of the racial structure by insisting
that that there is a racial middle and that they are part of it. Figure 4.1
summarizes how these youths define their position in the racial hier-
archy. That so few identified their racial location along the traditional
racial categories of white and black challenges prevalent notions of the
racial order as a racial binary and the assumption that Latinos, depend-
ing on their physical characteristics (i.e., skin color), fall onto one or the
other side of the binary. They do not define themselves as white or “like
white,” and from their experiences they infer that they are not defined
by others as white, nor are they privy to the privileges of whiteness. The
data also do not support the social browning thesis, as the few millenni-
als who identified their racial position as black do not define themselves
racially as black and are not perceived by others as black, despite sharing
some experiences of racialization with blacks.
While a few Latino millennials identified their racial location as
white or black, the majority of the youths (92 percent) contested the
racial binary by rejecting notions of Latinos’ whitening or browning.
Their narratives convey frustration with a racial structure that does not
acknowledge their uniqueness as a group. Some outright rejected the
racial binary by refusing to engage with these concepts or else had much
difficulty pinpointing where they fit in the racial order. While recogniz-
ing that they are neither white nor black, this group could not envi-
sion an alternative racial order. Most youths, however, embraced a racial
Racial Middle Category
Separate Racial Category
Traditional Racial Category
27%
8%
65%
Figure 4.1. Latinos’ racial location in relation to whites and blacks

L at i n o s as a R ac ia l M i d d l e | 85
middle position— but this was a racial middle that differs from earlier
iterations of the concept.
My second finding shows that these youths’ narratives contest the as-
sumption of a “catchall” racial middle. Their narratives offer a more nu-
anced and complex conceptualization of the racial middle than has been
theorized thus far. Those Latino millennials who identified as a racial
middle, who constituted 65 percent of the participants, conveyed narra-
tives of difference and insisted on the unique positioning of Latinos in
the racial order. While their narratives clearly point to their racial mid-
dle status, it is a racial middle that differs from what Bonilla- Silva calls
“honorary whites.” Rather than being part of a collective racial middle
that includes Asians and other groups (as Bonilla- Silva assumes), these
young Latinos view themselves as a separate racial middle, which sug-
gests that we should think of a racial structure composed of many “racial
middles,” the positions of which reflect each group’s unique racialization.
These youths were not always sure of their precise location in the
hierarchy, but they knew that, as a group, Latinos fall somewhere in
between whites and blacks. Understanding themselves as lower than
whites but not as low as blacks in the U.S. racial structure, these youths
located their collective racial position somewhere in the middle of the
spectrum, yet their own location in the racial middle wavered depend-
ing on individual characteristics and experiences. While most planted
themselves solidly in the middle, many identified as a racial middle that
tilted toward white or toward black. For these youths, physical traits,
cultural and ideological similarities, physical proximity to other groups,
social class, and access to privilege and racial experiences interacted to
determine their location within the racial middle.
In the following section, I dissect each of the racial locations identi-
fied by these millennials— traditional racial categories, “neither” white
nor black, and racial middle— to show the inadequacy of our current
theorization on racial structure and the racial middle, as well as to begin
developing a more complex understanding of the U.S. racial structure.
“By- Default” Traditional Racial Locations
Nine youths located themselves at either end of the racial hierarchy.
Although they placed themselves alongside whites or blacks in the racial

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hierarchy, these youths do not identify with these racial categories. That
is, their racial location does not necessarily correspond to their racial
identification, as they did not identify racially as white or black, nor do
other statements throughout the interview match this racial location.
Why did they locate themselves on the white or black side of the color
line despite not identifying with these racial categories? The narratives
suggest that their racial location choices are their individual attempts
to fit into a binary racial order— given their individual phenotypic
characteristics— and not reflective of collective, Latino- wide social whit-
ening or social browning processes.
While three of the youths identified their racial location as white, their
narratives are seemingly contradictory. That they identify their racial loca-
tion as white does not mean they identify racially as white, are racialized as
white, feel close to whites, or believe they are “like white” or that Latinos,
in general, are “becoming white.” For them, white is a “default” category,
which they reluctantly embrace. For instance, Samantha is a twenty- two-
year- old third- generation woman of Puerto Rican and Mexican descent
whose racial location as white matches her racial identity as “white phe-
notypically,” as well as how she thinks others perceive her, at least on first
impression. Despite being able to “pass” as white, Samantha feels most
distant from whites and knows that she is not white. She explains, “I don’t
really relate to white people except [for] how I look. I don’t come from a
white background.” Placing herself on the white side of the color line had
more to do with being a Latina who has “very light skin” and is able to
“pass” rather than with being categorically “white.”
Another millennial, Araceli, a twenty- seven- year- old second-
generation Mexican, assumed that her default location in the racial hi-
erarchy must be white “because we are not from Afro descent.” Despite
stating that she falls on the white side of the color line, Araceli knows
that she is not white. She identifies racially as Mexican, says that people
usually assume she is Mexican, feels closer to blacks, and states that the
group she feels most distant from are whites. Identifying her racial loca-
tion as white seems to align with the absence of “black” blood. Not being
of “Afro descent” means she is not black, and thus “by default,” she must
be white in a biracial order.
Sofia, a twenty- year- old third- generation woman with one Mexi-
can and one white parent who identifies racially as Mexican, also says

L at i n o s as a R ac ia l M i d d l e | 87
she would have to specify her racial location as white not because of
her half- white parentage but because she cannot claim a black location
based on her racial experiences. She explains that “personally I would
identify like white. If I had to pick, I would be white because I feel
closer to that. If you were to identify with black, black people would get
mad ’cause you’re not black and you didn’t go through what they went
through.” Sofia calls on the notion of “black exceptionalism” by suggest-
ing that blacks’ experiences with discrimination are unrivaled, and since
her experiences are less severe, she must then fall on the white side of
the color line. Samantha, Araceli, and Sofia show in their narratives that
choosing white as their racial location is halfhearted at best, not reflec-
tive of how they truly feel, and does not mean they are “white,” “like
white,” or “becoming white.” Rather, their choice is based on a process
of racial elimination whereby lacking more appropriate options, they are
by default “white.”
For the six millennials who located their racial position on the black
side of the color line, this location is also by default. As their narratives
show, they neither identify racially as black nor give any indication that
Latinos are experiencing social browning as a group. Rather, their racial-
ized experiences as minorities and their exclusion from white privilege
draw them to the black side of the color line. For instance, Niurka, a
twenty- two- year- old second- generation Dominican who identifies ra-
cially as Latina, says her racial location is “black” because “I feel that
that is how we are categorized. Anytime you apply for scholarships or
anything, we’re always grouped together. It’s never if you are white, and
plus like I feel like we do get the same discrimination.” Although Niurka
is often perceived as black because of her dark skin, she does not identify
racially as black and feels more distant from blacks than from any other
racial group. Niurka’s contradictory position as not racially black but
sharing a racial position with blacks can be understood as an attempt by
a dark- skinned Latina to recognize her lack of privilege while also try-
ing to distance herself from what she perceives as a more disadvantaged
racial position.
Likewise, other Latino millennials’ racial location as blacks had more
to do with a shared minority status and racial experiences than with ra-
cial identification. This point is more compelling when made by David,
a twenty- two- year- old second- generation Mexican who identifies ra-

88 | L at i n o s as a R ac ia l M i d d l e
cially as Latino and says that people perceive him as white because he
has light skin, yet he stated his racial location as black. David says, “We
[Latinos] would fall in the black race just because we are the minor-
ity race in most places and still considered inferior to the white race
by some whites.” Being a minority also played in other millennials’ ra-
cial location as black. Jacques is a twenty- nine- year- old who identifies
racially as Latino and ethnically as Mexican and who, despite having
a white parent, places himself on the black side of the color line. He
explains, “As far as where I place myself and people like myself within
a dichotomy, I guess I’d have to say we fall under black and not white
because like I mentioned earlier we are considered a minority.” Jacques’s
narrative shows that Latino ancestry offsets whiteness. For him, having
a white parent does not translate into having “white” racial experiences
because his Latino side marks him as nonwhite. These kinds of experi-
ences lead Jacques to define his racial position as a minority at the bot-
tom of the racial order along with blacks.
Katerina, a nineteen- year- old second- generation Ecuadorian, is an-
other millennial whose narrative is laden with contradictions. She iden-
tifies racially as Hispanic and says she is closer to whites than to blacks
“because they [whites] are my friends. Because that is who I hang out
with now. It’s the people who I grew up with. It’s who I have lived with.
It’s the people that I have been with since pre- K to high school.” Never-
theless, Katerina identifies her racial location as black. As she explains,
“I would have to fall within the black category because I am a double
minority being a woman and being Hispanic.” Living among whites may
make it clear to Katerina and Jacques that they are not white, highlight-
ing their lack of privilege and leading them to conclude that they must
fall on the black side of a racial binary. For these millennials, it is their
minority status and their perceived lack of privilege vis- à- vis their white
peers, and not necessarily their skin color, that place them at the bottom
of the racial hierarchy along with blacks.
That there were only nine youths who identified their racial location
on either side of the color line is telling of the unsuitability of a binary
racial hierarchy and its limitations in accommodating Latinos. It is also
telling that only three of the ninety- seven millennials identified their
racial location as white, that these were all women, and that of the five
youths who had a white parent, three identified as a racial middle and

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only one identified her racial location as white, while another identified
his racial location as black. Because of the small size of this “by- default”
sample, I am unable to develop an analysis of the effect of gender and
white parentage on racial location. However, other studies suggest that
having a white parent does not necessarily lead to racial identification
as white (see Jiménez 2004; Vasquez 2011). That youths who could lay
claim to whiteness or blackness because of their parentage, ancestry, or
their ability to pass based on physical markers did not place themselves
in the white or black category speaks volumes about the inadequacy of
the binary order and the inability of the color line to make room for
Latinos.
Neither White nor Black
A significant number of Latino millennials stated clearly that they are
neither white nor black, but they stopped short of stating they are a racial
middle. By choosing “neither,” these millennials challenge the prevalent
assumption that the racial hierarchy is a white/black binary. A quarter
of the participants resisted attempts to be cajoled into a racial binary
order where they do not fit, but they also did not offer an alternative. For
instance, Marina, a twenty- three- year- old second- generation Mexican
who identifies racially as Hispanic, stated “That’s the thing, race isn’t
about black and white. If you’re going to define it, don’t limit it to just
black and white.” When asked how she would define it, she simply said,
“That is up in the air because I don’t know.” Ramiro, a twenty- seven-
year- old third- generation Mexican who identifies racially as Hispanic,
also had difficulty choosing his racial location because he is “Neither. I’m
not one or the other. I’m Hispanic.” Although, he is Hispanic, Ramiro
could not determine where Hispanics fit within the racial hierarchy. Not
being able to pinpoint where in the racial hierarchy Latinos fit, Marina
and Ramiro believe that Latinos are a separate group and point to their
medium- shade skin color as well as distinct racialization as indica-
tors that they fall outside the biracial order. All but one of the youths
who identified as “neither” said that people unequivocally assume that
they are Latinos. That is, these are not youths who “pass” as white or
black. They are unmistakably Latino- looking and thus are perceived
by others as Latinos. Many of these youths also recount experiences of

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discrimination that ensue from being Latino, ranging from subtle to
blatant discrimination. These youths also tended to identify racially in
panethnic or national origin terms denoting their conceptualization of
Latinos as a separate ethnoracial group.
Among those who do not fit into a racial hierarchy is Delia, a
nineteen- year- old second- generation Mexican who identifies racially as
Latina, and who responded quite energetically when asked about her
racial position, “Nowhere. Nowhere. People do look at things like black
and white here, but I don’t think we fall anywhere around either.” When
asked if perhaps Mexicans fell somewhere in the middle, she added: “No.
Not even in the middle. I think we are completely separate. We just don’t
[fit]. We’re different than blacks and whites. I just don’t think we fit.”
Javier, a twenty- four- year- old second- generation Mexican who iden-
tifies racially as Latino, also rejected the racial middle label. He states,
“I guess I don’t fit in there at all. I mean some people would say that we
are brown, so you would think we are in the middle or even at the black
end, but in my opinion, I don’t fit on that scale.” Martha, a twenty- seven-
year- old second- generation woman who identifies racially as Mexican,
boldly declares, “I don’t believe I fall within the dichotomy just because
it is too restrictive because you’re either black or white. There is nothing
else that you could fall underneath, [that] we can fall underneath. There-
fore, I don’t believe that the dichotomy is actually existent for people
like myself or people who identify as Mexican in the United States.” For
Lazaro, a twenty- year- old second- generation man who identifies racially
as Mexican and who is light- skinned and could pass for white, locating
his place on a biracial scale is “kind of complicated.” He explains, “If we
are speaking specifically in terms of black and white, I could identify as
white, but at the same time I am a minority so I can identify myself with
blacks as well, but it’s kind of complicated to just pick one or the other.”
Implicit in Lazaro’s explanation is his belief that how one is positioned in
the racial hierarchy is not simply about physical traits but about how, as
a Latino, he is still racialized as a minority despite having “white” physi-
cal characteristics.
Some youths pointed to skin color or phenotype as the basis for their
not fitting into a binary racial structure. Danila, a twenty- two- year- old
second- generation Mexican who identifies racially as Latina, shows her
irritation with a racial order that overlooks Latinos with medium skin

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color when saying, “It’s hard because I don’t fall into the white or black
category. I mean, I don’t look white, but I don’t look black either. I have a
medium skin complexion, but I would not consider myself white. I think
it’s unfair as to how we have to be either white or black. I don’t fit into
either one, so it gets me frustrated.” While Danila points to medium skin
complexion to indicate that she does not fit in the racial order, Irene, a
twenty- four- year- old second- generation woman who identifies racially
as Hispanic, downplays the role of skin color as a determinant of her
place in the racial order “because we tend to use [the term] ‘Hispanic’
and not the color of our skin.”
Forcing Latinos to choose a side of a color line that does not befit
them diminishes and glosses over their racial experiences. Sarah, a
twenty- one- year- old second- generation woman who identifies racially
as Mexican, points to Latinos’ increasing visibility when she states, “I
think for the longest time people like us have been ignored or neglected.
But with the recent influx of Latinos, I think issues regarding us are
finally starting to surface.  .  .  . The black/white dichotomy is a whole
other issue. I think it’ll always be its own separate entity.” This point is
reiterated by Orlando, a twenty- two- year- old second- generation Mexi-
can who identifies racially as Latino and white. While recognizing that
outwardly he may appear white, Orlando feels most distant from whites.
In his narrative, he emphasizes the black and white racial discourse that
erases Latinos’ and Asians’ experiences as minorities:
I definitely think [we are] more ignored. It’s always black and white. There
are now more Latinos than African Americans. Considering that, I do
feel like we are ignored. Asians are ignored too. When people come from
other countries, they say, “Oh, I never thought of society as black and
white until I came to America.” I think people in other countries are more
open and don’t view everything racially like they do here. Generally, I do
feel that if you’re not white or not black most of the issues are, they don’t
apply to you pretty much. I feel left out. I can’t speak for Asians or other
cultures, but I definitely feel as a Latino your perspectives are not really
brought up.
Orlando’s narrative is representative of these millennials’ sense of invis-
ibility and the glossing over of their racialized experiences. Tossing

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Asians into the equation strengthens their claim regarding the pre-
ponderance of a white and black racial order that erases other groups’
experiences. Raúl, a twenty- one- year- old second- generation Mexican
who identifies racially as indigenous, takes this issue further when
saying:
I always remember that whenever it was talked [about] in history books
at a young age, the African American experience would always be em-
phasized [from] the slave conditions to the civil rights. You would al-
ways be taught [about] Martin Luther King and all these other civil rights
leaders like Rosa Parks and what they did. But then, it would position
itself as that racism and unjust actions only occurred on the most part
to African Americans. And in that sense, when a lot of history books
take that viewpoint or that perspective, I think it leaves out a lot of other
cultures or races and experiences within this culture, within this coun-
try, which is completely different in the context in which it happened
and the ways that it affected them. Considering that it doesn’t apply or
doesn’t address the injustices or problems which my race has had within
this country. So I think [these] issues and historic marginalization and
injustices are completely obscured and neglected by both Caucasians and
African Americans.
Without downplaying the discrimination that has profoundly marked
the black experience, Raúl critiques a historical record that “leaves out
a lot of other cultures or races and experiences” in a way that the “his-
toric marginalization and injustices [of other groups] are completely
obscured.” Latinos, among other groups, have faced scathing discrimi-
nation that relegates them to a lower position in the racial hierarchy and
contributes to their sense of racial invisibility.
Not fitting in is exacerbated by dissimilarities in culture and values
that differentiate Latinos from whites and blacks. Martín, a twenty-
year- old third- generation man who identifies racially as Mexican
American, simply states that he did not feel close to whites “because
we have different cultures and values,” while Justin, a twenty- three-
year- old second- generation Mexican who identifies racially as Latino,
provides a more intricate rationale for feeling distant from whites. He
says that Latinos and whites are “like polar opposites. They don’t find

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that family is the basic unit of life. They’re very individualistic and they
don’t think in the collective good. Because I don’t like conflict. I always
like to have some harmony established in any circle. So cultures that
[are] family oriented like Latin American cultures, those are the ones
that I feel keen to because they always think of others instead of them-
selves.” Perceived differences in culture and values that result in not
being able to relate or find commonalities with whites also extended to
blacks. Jocelyn, a twenty- year- old second- generation Mexican Guate-
malan who identifies racially as Hispanic, says she is more distant from
blacks because “I’m quiet and most of them are so loud” and jumps to
the conclusion that “we don’t really click.” Stressing cultural differences
with the use of stereotypes helps Latinos differentiate themselves from
both whites and blacks.
If anything, Latinos’ unique racial experiences are closer to the black
experience. Adamaris is a twenty- one- year- old second- generation Gua-
temalan who identifies racially as Latina and recognizes that similarly
to “driving while black,” there is a “driving while Latino” disadvantage.
She explains that she has “been in situations where I’ve gotten pulled
over. Well, not me necessarily, but I’ve been with people that have been
pulled over for no apparent reason, and I think it’s because of our being
Latinos.” Like black youths, Latinos may be typecast as criminals based
solely on their appearance and subjected to police stops and other kinds
of surveillance (see chapter 2).
Stereotypes like these may make it seem as if Latinos and blacks
occupy a common position, but these millennials do not believe they
occupy the same racial location as blacks. Dori, a nineteen- year- old
second- generation woman who identifies racially as Mexican, explains
this point when saying, “I feel like Mexicans fall in the other category,
but white people put Mexicans together with blacks because we are of
color but we would not put each other in the same group. But to whites
we seem the same.” Like Dori, these youths are aware that whites indis-
criminately lump all nonwhites together but that these groups do not
occupy the same place in the racial hierarchy. While acknowledging
that he occupies a racial position closer to that of blacks, Raúl calls on
negative stereotypes of black criminality and his family’s prejudices
that prevent him from identifying with that side of the color line. As
Raúl states:

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I guess the one I would feel a little more close or somewhat close, I guess
would be African Americans, because I grew up in an African Ameri-
can community, and I was exposed to their urban realities as well and
struggles. But at the same time, I feel a little distant from them as well
because of, you know, the negative experience that I or my family had
with certain criminals who were African American . . . and also because
especially my father, he prohibits [me] from associating with black kids
from within my neighborhood. Out of, I guess, his own fear of us becom-
ing street kids as well.
Raúl’s statement shows the complex relationship between Latinos and
blacks. On the one hand, Latino millennials relate to blacks because of
physical proximity or shared experiences of marginalization. But, on the
other hand, they (or their parents) use cultural stereotypes to put dis-
tance between themselves and blacks, largely to avoid the stigmatization
and more disadvantaged position of blacks in the racial order.
While these Latino millennials know that they occupy a different ra-
cial location than whites and blacks and that their racial experiences are
similar but not the same as blacks’, they are reluctant to identify their
racial location in a binary order. And while the binary order does not
make sense to them, they are unwilling or unable to come up with an
alternative racial order in which to place themselves. This reluctance
shows not only the inadequacy of the binary racial order to accommo-
date Latinos but also the sheer dominance of this racial paradigm that
blinds them from even imagining an alternative. What distinguishes
those in the “neither white not black” category from the “racial middle”
category is that while the former cannot pull out of the racial binary, the
latter reconstruct the racial binary as a racial continuum where Latinos
occupy a separate, intermediate racial location.
Latinos as the Racial Middle
The majority of Latino millennials located themselves in the racial mid-
dle. Lacking a precise term to reflect their intermediate or “straddled”
status in the racial order, most of these millennials referred to being
“in the middle,” “in between,” and on “middle ground.” They also used
intermediate color terms like “gray,” “tan,” “brown,” and “both white and

L at i n o s as a R ac ia l M i d d l e | 95
black” to denote their in- between location in the racial hierarchy. Along
with finding that these Latino millennials challenged notions of a racial
binary in favor of a racial middle, I also found that they have a more
nuanced and complex conceptualization of the racial middle than our
current theorization of it. They do not define the racial middle as a single
“catchall” category that Latino and Asians occupy, but rather envision a
multitude of racial middles occupied by different groups. Their narratives
also show that the racial middle is not a static or uniform intermediate
category but instead wavers between whites and blacks. As a group, Lati-
nos may constitute a racial middle, but each person’s location within the
racial middle varies according to individual characteristics— such as skin
color, social class, and racial experiences— that place the person closer to
the white or the black side of the color line.
Most Latino millennials position themselves as a solid racial middle,
but for some, this racial middle may tilt toward white or black depend-
ing on individual characteristics and racial experiences. Figure 4.2 illus-
trates how these Latino millennials envision the racial order and their
place in it. While as a group Latinos are largely “in the middle,” some use
the terms “gray” and “brown” to signal that despite their group status as
a racial middle, their individual location may lean toward either end of
the hierarchy depending on their individual characteristics such as phe-
notype and social class. While “gray” and “brown” are often used as syn-
onyms for the racial middle, for some youths, “gray” seems to denote an
intermediate racial location closer to whites. Here the “middle” consists
of three subcategories: slightly over half the youths placed themselves
squarely in the racial middle, and the two remaining quarters identi-
Tilting to White
Solid Racial Middle
Tilting to Black
W
hi
te
M
id
dl
e
B
la
ck
Figure 4.2. Latino racial middle model

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fied as a racial middle that tilts, even slightly, toward white or black,
respectively.
Even when it tilts toward white, this racial middle differs from
Bonilla- Silva’s (2004) “honorary whites” tier. These millennials’ seem-
ingly closer position to whites in the racial hierarchy was tempered by
their greater social distance from whites. Indeed, whites were the group
they felt most distant from. Tilting toward white had more to do with
their slightly more advantageous position relative to blacks that derived
from their individual characteristics that allowed them to “pass,” or
at the very least to experience less frequent and less intense forms of
discrimination (see chapter 2). Locating themselves as a racial middle,
these youths emphasize the need to reconfigure the U.S. racial order to
account for Latinos’ unique racial experiences and intermediate, yet still
disadvantaged, position in U.S. society.
The Solid Racial Middle
Slightly over half of these “racial middle” millennials place themselves
solidly in the racial middle. They recognize that whites and blacks
occupy opposite ends of the color line, that Latinos do not fit into
either side, and that Latinos are a racial middle. Janey, a twenty- year-
old second- generation woman who identifies racially as Mexican, also
locates herself “somewhere in the middle. I don’t know. I think some-
where in the middle would be the best just because I don’t consider
myself white or black.” Pointing to her skin, she adds, “I could consider
myself white, but I put myself in the middle.”
In tune with the color terminology of the U.S. racial order, some mil-
lennials used intermediate color terms— such as “brown” or “tan”— to
denote this racial middle. Not surprisingly, they used the term “brown”
to describe their intermediate racial location, as this term has been
used by Chicano and Puerto Rican activists since the 1960s. Mariely, a
twenty- three- year- old Puerto Rican who identifies racially as Hispanic
and is perceived as Mexican, simply states, “We are in the brown. I don’t
think it’s a black and white dichotomy.” Ricky, a seventeen- year- old
second- generation man who identifies racially as Mexican, is conflicted
and feels that if he had to make a choice in a binary order, he would
reluctantly choose black, but he interjects that “brown” is the most ap-

L at i n o s as a R ac ia l M i d d l e | 97
propriate term for him. He explains, “I guess I’d stand on the black side.
But I really wouldn’t want to stand on either side. I’d probably stand
on the line. I don’t know. Why do I have to choose a side? Because we
don’t belong on either side. We’re different than blacks or whites. I think
we’re brown, and I think we should have our own group.” Saying that
he “stand[s] on the line,” Ricky refuses to choose between white and
black by claiming a brown racial category. Dolores, a twenty- eight-
year- old fourth- generation Mexican who identifies racially as Hispanic
and white, explains why brown is the most appropriate descriptor for
Latinos:
It’s more of a state of mind and a state of awareness of what your back-
ground is that you don’t identify [as white or black]. Because when you
say white you think of Anglo, you think of gringo. We think of somebody
who’s not, who doesn’t have any type of Hispanic heritage or connection.
And that’s something we really don’t want to identify with. I wouldn’t.
I think that using brown is helpful to me because it allows you to see
something that does not fall into that dichotomy and you’re able to see
yourself as, not having to choose. Because you couldn’t choose between
black and white, because you don’t fall into either of those. I don’t think
we fall into either of those.
Dolores finds the term “brown” fitting because the designations of white
and black mean not having “any type of Hispanic heritage or connec-
tion.” Latin American descent, and not their genetic or physical makeup,
is the defining characteristic that determines Latino millennials’ loca-
tion as a racial middle.
Similarly, Thomas a twenty- three- year- old Guatemalan who was ad-
opted as an infant and raised by white parents, described his racial posi-
tion as “right between [white and black]. Brown. It always irks me when
census people categorize me as white. I never would consider myself
white.” Despite not being ethnically Guatemalan and not knowing any
Guatemalans while growing up in a predominantly white suburb and
with a white middle- class upbringing, Thomas nevertheless identifies
ethnically as Guatemalan and racially as Latino because he looks Mexi-
can and his racial experiences lined up with those of Latinos. Implicit in
Thomas’s statement is the weight of Latin American ancestry on these

98 | L at i n o s as a R ac ia l M i d d l e
youths’ racial identification and location as brown people regardless of
their upbringing (see chapter 3). Similar to the U.S. notion of race based
on blood or corporeality, Thomas’s Guatemalan blood and Latino looks
point to his Latin American ancestry and erase any claim to whiteness
despite his white cultural upbringing.
While contextual factors may “whiten” or “blacken” some Latinos,
these youths argue that Latinos are still “brown.” Danny, a twenty- one-
year- old second- generation Mexican who identifies racially as Latino
and Mexican, contends that adopting white or black behaviors does not
make a Latino white or black. Instead, Latinos remain “brown”:
We’re right in the middle. We’re our own people because we have our own
culture blackanized and Americanized. It’s different. You’re a product of
your own environment. I would think that if a Latino would grow up in
a black neighborhood, their traits would most likely be, their character,
their dialect, the way they dressed, is going to be influenced heavily by
black culture. If you’re a Latino growing up in a white neighborhood,
you’re growing up with Americanized characteristics. You dress that
way . . . [but] they would still be in the middle, no matter what. Because
they still come from a Latin background. They’re just characterized as
trying to be white, trying to be black, but overall they would still be in the
middle. You’re brown! Between white and black, you’re brown.
For Danny, no matter how “Americanized” or “blackanized” Latinos
may be, or how much they “act white” or “act black,” Latinos are nei-
ther white nor black but are in their own “brown” group. Like Thomas,
Danny implies that anyone with Latin American ancestry is brown
regardless of their individual characteristics.
For Mike, a twenty- eight- year- old second- generation Colombian who
identifies racially as Hispanic, it was mainly the flexibility engendered
by the term “brown” that was more fitting for someone who is “white in
the winter and black in the summer.” Likewise, Nick, a nineteen- year-
old second- generation Cuban Mexican man who identifies racially as
Hispanic, used the term “tan” to denote the racial fluidity that charac-
terizes Latinos as a group and that, based on individual characteristics,
can place Latinos closer to whites or blacks. Nick explains that “we fall
in neither but between the two. This is because if you look at us, we’re

L at i n o s as a R ac ia l M i d d l e | 99
neither black nor white. We’re tan and depending on your color, lan-
guage, and socioeconomic status you can fall anywhere between blacks
and whites, just always between. I would put myself right next to whites,
but my dad, for example, who’s really dark, would place himself more
toward the middle or even nearer to the black category because he has
actually been discriminated against and all that.” As Nick observes, La-
tinos occupy an intermediate racial location, but their precise position
in relation to whites and blacks is determined by “[skin] color, language,
and socioeconomic status,” as well as by their racial experiences. That is,
Latinos can fall anywhere along the white and black racial continuum.
While the use of the term “brown” was not surprising, the use of the
term “gray” by some millennials was unexpected. Some youths referred
to the color gray rather than brown to describe Latinos’ intermediate
position in the racial hierarchy. Some referred to the racial middle as
a “gray area,” denoting their imprecise location in the racial hierarchy.
Among those who said that Latinos fall within a “gray area” was Lisa, a
twenty- five- year- old second- generation Colombian who identifies her
race and her appearance as Hispanic, and who stresses that “Hispanic
culture is a mix of races. So you can’t say you’re one or the other. You’re
mixed. You’re a combination. [We fall] in that gray area, that in- between
that no one acknowledges.” Others prefer the term “gray” because it is
a more accurate combination of black and white, being a lighter shade
than brown and a duller shade of white. For Diana, a nineteen- year- old
third- generation Mexican who identifies racially as Hispanic and says
she is perceived as Hispanic, the color gray best captures the feeling that
Latinos are unrecognized as a group. According to Diana, “[We are g]
ray. We are stuck in the middle. A lot of times we get overlooked. That’s
what it feels like. . . . I think in general we are kind of stuck in the middle.
In terms of opportunities, I guess we are more on the black side, because
we are not offered the same opportunities as the white side. . . . [We are
gray] in the way that we are not as oppressed as the black side but we
are not as privileged as the white side.” To Diana, “gray” denotes Latinos’
fuzzy, undefined, and imprecise location and more accurately conveys a
sense of being valued less than whites but higher than blacks.
For others, like Daniel, a twenty- three- year- old second- generation
Costa Rican who identifies primarily as Hispanic, identifies racially as
American, and is perceived as Puerto Rican, “gray” is simply more com-

100 | L at i n o s as a R ac ia l M i d d l e
patible with his lighter skin color than the darker shade implied by the
term “brown”:
I guess, based on my appearance I fall more within a gray [laughs]. I
know that’s not really how dichotomies work, but I can’t associate myself
with being a black person or being a white person. I am not going to be
of any other descent than just being Hispanic, and I know that’s going to
be a hindrance to some people, and the only thing that you’re going to
have to show for yourself is whether or not your education, or how you
have constructed yourself as an individual is worth something. So I guess
I am in the middle.
For millennials like Daniel, the term “gray” more closely describes their
light skin tone than the term “brown,” which they view as closer to black.
For instance, Saúl, a twenty- five- year- old second- generation Mexican
who identifies racially as Hispanic but says he is perceived by others as
white, uses the term “gray” to more accurately denote lighter- skinned
“brown” Latinos like himself. According to Saúl, “We are a lighter shade
of brown. I could also fall into the gray area. . . . If anything, though, I
feel that we are closer to black. . . . People who are brown are considered
a minority, and statistically speaking for the most part we have a ten-
dency of being in the bottom of the economic system in the country. . . .
I feel that people of brown skin face more oppression. I see a lot of peo-
ple of brown color marching for rights as black people did throughout
the civil rights movement.” Saúl understands Latinos as a brown people
who, like blacks, face discrimination, yet he uses the term “gray” because
it more accurately matches his “lighter shade of brown” skin tone, and
others’ initial perception of him as white. In addition to more accurately
matching their skin color, the term “gray,” to these millennials, seems
to distance them from both the white and the black experience. Eric, a
twenty- one- year- old third- generation Puerto Rican Brazilian who iden-
tifies racially as Puerto Rican and is perceived by others as Mexican,
considers himself “gray” because he does not relate to the white experi-
ence: “I feel that when I try to put myself in their [whites] shoes and look
at life and history from their eyes and perspective, I cannot understand
the logic in their background. This is not meant as an insult. I just feel
that I cannot relate to them at all.”

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While “color” terms like “brown” or “gray” may give the impression
that corporeal characteristics are at the root of these youths’ racial mid-
dle self- designation, it seems more plausible that they are used simply
because they are a logical way to make sense of their location in a color-
based racial structure ill- equipped to incorporate Latinos. Indeed, these
youths’ narratives convey that being a racial middle has more to do with
their unique racial experiences and not their skin color or phenotype.
Many of the youths who identify as a racial middle measure their racial
location not in color hues but relative to non- Latino groups’ positions
in the racial hierarchy. For instance, Cathy, a twenty- year- old second-
generation Mexican who identifies racially as human, is perceived as
Latina, and identifies her racial location as “in between,” recognizes the
racial hierarchy as a spectrum that is marked by a sharp and bold color
line that divides whites from everyone else. Cathy’s location in the racial
middle has to do with being “considered less valuable” than whites. She
says, “I think I fall in between the dichotomy because I am considered
less valuable to both races. White people are always looking for the next
second- class citizen. It started between themselves, the Germans, Ital-
ians, Irish, Lithuanians, et cetera, that came to the United States. Then
they came together as whites against blacks, then against Asians, then
against Latinos, then against Middle Easterners, and currently the last
two are at the bottom of the list in white people’s eyes.” Embedded in
Cathy’s narrative is Kim’s (1999) racial positionality argument, which
poses that a group’s racial location is relative to other groups and reflects
a particular and unique process of racialization along multiple dimen-
sions. Cathy contests the assumption that Latino are becoming white
by posing that European immigrants had a different racial experience
that allowed them to congeal as whites and stand collectively against
nonwhite groups.
That groups are racialized differently and occupy different locations
in the racial hierarchy became clear in the youths’ narratives about social
distance. When asked which groups they felt closer to and most distant
from, a clear pattern emerged that signals Latinos’ location as a racial
middle and that contradicts assumptions about their collective whiten-
ing. Quite the opposite picture emerged, as the overwhelming majority
of millennials feel closest to other Latinos, closer to blacks, and most
distant from Asians and whites. Few mentioned Native Americans and

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Middle Easterners, and those who did placed Native Americans as close
and Middle Easterners as more distant but not quite as far as whites and
Asians. In these youths’ narratives, social distance was based on physical
proximity, culture, values and ideology, and racial experiences.
Not surprisingly, Latino millennials feel closest to coethnics and
other Latinos. They cite physical proximity, cultural and linguistic simi-
larities, shared values, and similar racialization as the reasons they feel
closest to fellow Latinos. For example, Danny feels closer to “my own
kind . . . Mexican and Latino. . . . The majority of them [Latinos] know
what it is like to grow up a Latino. They know what it is like to be dis-
criminated against, have the same family background, exposure to the
negative influences to their environment. They understand where I’m
coming from.” Conversely, he feels most distant from “Europeans. Be-
cause I don’t really know many of them. I only know a few.” Jesús, a
twenty- one- year- old Mexican who identifies racially as Latino and says
he looks Mexican or Italian, is close to “African Americans. I live by a lot
of them. I feel that we all share the same hardships. We can relate to each
other.” In contrast, he is most distant from “white people. They have it so
good. They are treated like royalty here.”
Also defying assumptions about Latinos’ pull toward whites, the
overwhelming majority of youths feel very distant from whites. In fact,
whites were singled out as the group that they feel farthest from. These
youths identified this distant feeling according to whites’ lack of physical
proximity, different culture and values, and unequal access to privilege.
Growing up in predominantly Latino and African American communi-
ties, most youths had little contact or familiarity with whites. Indeed,
these millennials’ lack of contact with whites reflects structural patterns
of segregation. As Diana, a nineteen- year- old third- generation Mexican,
says, she is most distant from whites “only because I grew up around
a lot of different groups but that was the least that I grew up around.”
Similarly, Edwin, a twenty- eight- year- old second- generation Mexican
states that he is most distant from “probably white people. I don’t have a
lot of white friends or know a lot of white people. Now that I think about
it, all I hang out with are Latinos.” Even after getting to know white
people, these youths feel distant from whites because their lives seem
worlds apart. Elijah, a twenty- two- year- old second- generation Mexican,
feels closest to Latinos, close to blacks, and most distant from whites

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and Asians: “[I feel closer to] probably black. There’s solidarity [between
Latinos and blacks] and at the same time, there’s tension and racism
with all three, with white, black, brown, Latinos. With all three, in and
out, back and forth. But I think it is definitely, or from my experience,
I’ve found more of a solidarity with black folks, black people.” Elijah
feels most distance from “white Caucasian, and Indian, Asian. Anything
other than black or Latino, Hispanic. Mostly ’cause of culture. . . . It’s just
rules that each culture has. With white Caucasians, there are things in
their culture that I don’t know. I can’t identify myself with.”
Even those who grow up in white suburbia, and who hang out with
white peers, feel most alienated from whites. Their physical proximity
to whites does not translate into defining themselves racially as whites
or necessarily feeling close to whites. Nick, who grew up in the suburbs,
feels close to whites but also feels that he has never been completely
welcomed in white suburbia. It was not until he moved to Chicago as a
young adult that he realized he was not treated equally in the suburbs:
I feel closer to other Hispanics because a lot of them have to go through
the same things that I’ve had to deal with throughout my life. But I also
feel close to whites because I look white. When I moved out of the sub-
urbs to Chicago, I met all new people, and I’ve been kind of been treated
much more equally. I don’t know if it’s because they don’t know I’m Cu-
ban whereas everyone in the suburbs did, or because the city is just more
tolerant. . . . I feel more distant from blacks because I just don’t have any
black friends and I can’t relate to their culture, really.
It took moving out of the suburbs for Nick to realize that he was not a
racial equal, while in the city he found acceptance. Still his disconnec-
tion from blacks is mainly due to his lack of exposure growing up in
white suburbia, and later in Latino neighborhoods in the city.
Unlike Nick, many Latino suburbanites grow up with ties to diverse
(Latino and African American) neighborhoods in the city. Vallejo (2012)
also found that middle- class suburban Latinos have family ties to urban
neighborhoods. These youths have relatives, most often grandparents,
living in the city, which allows them to spend time there and develop
connections to Latinos and to blacks. For instance, Consuelo, a twenty-
two- year- old second- generation Mexican who identifies racially as La-

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tina, says, “I think I feel closer to the Caucasian ethnicity only because I
grew up closer with them. But I also feel close with African Americans
’cause my grandfather lives in a predominantly black neighborhood, so I
was always hanging out with them too.” Like Consuelo, youths who grew
up in the suburbs were not always isolated from other Latinos or blacks
because of their familial ties to Chicago.
Although whites and Asians are at the top of the distance scale, there
are differences in how this distance is interpreted. Latino millennials cite
lack of physical proximity and vast cultural differences as their reasons
for feeling very distant from Asians. Bibiana, a twenty- year- old second-
generation Mexican who identifies racially as Hispanic, says that that
she does not have any Asian friends, “but it’s not because I make sure
that I don’t. I think it’s just because the opportunity hasn’t come up that
I’ve met a group of [Asian] people. . . . I have friends from almost every
racial group, I just don’t have any Asian [friends].” These youths felt
more alienated from East Asians than from other Asian youths from
India or the Philippines. As Consuelo says, “I’d probably say that the
ethnicity I feel less connected to would be the Asian community. I have
a couple friends, but I don’t know a lot about their culture. [I know]
more about the Philippine culture, but not like Chinese or Korean. So
I think they’re the least I’m connected to.” Gonzalo, a twenty- two- year-
old second- generation man who identifies racially as Mexican, also feels
culturally distant from “anyone from Asia because they have so many
different languages and cultures and their letters aren’t even the same
so you’re like ‘what does that mean?’ You can’t really make out the letter
‘A’ out of a Chinese symbol.” Despite their physical and cultural distance
from Asians, these Latino millennials recognize Asians as minorities. In
contrast, their distance from whites is due to whites’ superior position
in the racial hierarchy.
What is seemingly a binary model with a sharp color line dividing
whites from nonwhites is, rather, a multiracial model with whites at one
end, blacks at the other end, and nonwhite/nonblack groups occupying
different positions in the nonwhite side of the color line. These youths’
narratives add more complexity and texture to our understanding of
the racial hierarchy, and of the poorly understood racial middle. While
most youths identify themselves as solidly in the middle, others define
themselves as a racial middle that tilts toward white or black.

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A Racial Middle Tilting toward White
Almost a quarter of these “racial middle” millennials’ responses fall
in a middle that tilts toward white. Although it would seem that these
millennials are in tune with the assumption that Latinos are “becom-
ing white,” “like white,” or “honorary whites,” close examination of their
reasoning reveals that tilting toward white is due to “looks,” physical
proximity, acculturation, social class, and racial experiences. To them,
light skin color and/or class position places them closer to whites. This
does not mean they see themselves as white but that they are a racial
middle that tilts toward the white side of the color line.
“Looks,” and particularly skin color, were usually the defining char-
acteristic for millennials who identified as a racial middle tilting toward
the white side of the color line. These youths often could pass for whites,
at least “visually,” but they did not identify as white. Dario, a twenty- one-
year- old third- generation man who identifies racially as Mexican but says
he is perceived as white and feels closer to whites, explains, “For me, I
would say that I fall in the white category, visually. As for Mexicans in gen-
eral, I think it can go either way. I think that Mexicans experience similar
discrimination to blacks, but there are Mexicans like me who are under
the radar I guess and blend in with the whites. So I guess I would say
they fall right in the middle of the two groups.” Yet, “looking white” does
not make Dario, or other Latinos, white. Jasmine, a twenty- three- year- old
third- generation Puerto Rican who identifies racially as human and says
that people usually think she is white, describes her racial middle location
as grayish white. Jasmine states that there is “black and white and there’s
no gray. And it’s funny cause where do I fall? I guess grayish white. Yup,
meaning that, I guess I am in the middle, but people, obviously, nobody’s
ever thought I’m black, ever. I don’t think I fall into the series of categories
with them either. But I do maintain and just my own culture and keeping
up the Puerto Rican culture plus adapting to the American [culture]. So
that’s why I guess I say I’m grayish white.” Jasmine’s use of “grayish white”
connotes a duller shade of white that best embodies her “white” pheno-
type and acculturation to American (or white) culture, while remaining
firmly grounded in Puerto Rican culture.
The social milieu can also tip the racial middle toward whites. These
were youths who grew up in relative isolation from other Latinos (and

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blacks), in white, middle- class suburban communities. This helps ex-
plain why Dario feels that he occupies a racial middle leaning toward
white: “I would have to say whites. I guess it’s because I have always
attended mainly white schools, and most of the friends I have had and
still have today are white.” For Ignacio, an eighteen- year- old second-
generation Mexican who identifies racially as Hispanic, his racial middle
tilts toward white because “I hang out more with white people.” Not
being exposed to blacks led some youths to develop views of a “black
lifestyle” based largely on stereotypes. For instance, Heriberto, a twenty-
two- year- old second- generation man who identifies racially as Mexican,
says he is more distant from “African Americans because some of their
lifestyles. I can’t see myself living that way.” This “lifestyle” included cul-
tural stereotypes that were not based on actual experiences with blacks.
Heriberto adds, “My lifestyle and ideas are closest to theirs [whites].”
The suburbs insulated these millennials from blacks, resulting in their
feelings of distance from blacks and relative closeness to whites.
Rosalinda, a twenty- year- old third- generation Mexican who identi-
fies racially as Hispanic, finds it “really hard” to zero in on her racial
position. She states, “I would say that we fall in the middle, but if I had to
pick one, I would say white because Mexicans did not deal with nearly as
much scrutiny as blacks did. And I guess I lean more toward whites just
because I have dated white guys but never black. That’s just my personal
preference, though. I am not speaking for all Hispanics.” Rosalinda rec-
ognizes that her individual characteristics, experiences, and preferences
move her closer to the white side of the color line, but that does not
preclude other Latinos’ wavering toward the black side.
Some of those in the racial middle tilting toward white have one white
parent. For instance, Sally is a twenty- two- year- old second- generation
woman who identifies racially as Mexican and Albanian and who, de-
spite being half white, sees herself as a racial middle who is closer to
white. She explains, “Well, I guess it would be the white race ’cause I
don’t associate anything with the black race. I mean, I’ve learned about
their struggles, but I’ve never seen it. And I have very few friends [who
are black]. Not that I am racist or anything. It just happens that I have
very few black friends, and even then, they’re not really like black. I don’t
know if that makes sense. They’re more like whitewashed. So I guess I
fit in more to the whiter side.” Sally feels closer to whites than to blacks

L at i n o s as a R ac ia l M i d d l e | 107
mainly because she has “never really been in an environment with them.
It’s not a choice. It’s just the way it happened to be. Like I’ve never grown
up like down the street. My high school wasn’t all black. I guess just
because I’ve never really had the opportunity to interact with them as
much as anybody else.” Sally reasons that her tilting toward white is
more a consequence of her lack of interaction with blacks than a result
of her half- white parentage.
Social class is another factor that shifts the Latino racial middle to-
ward white. It is not necessarily that these youths see Latinos as a whit-
ening group but that those with middle- class status are often viewed
by others as white or as “acting white,” even if they themselves do not
identify racially as whites. Laura, a twenty- year- old second- generation
woman who identifies racially as Mexican, states, “I’ve been told I act
white, but I don’t know about Mexicans in general. I guess it would de-
pend on social class.” Carlos, a twenty- four- year- old second- generation
Mexican Guatemalan who identifies racially as white, offers a more
elaborate explanation:
Oh, I definitely think that there is more of a spectrum, because you know,
with Barack Obama, people are saying that he is not black enough or
whatever. Or, you know, being a Hispanic in this country, people would
tell me “Oh, you are not Hispanic enough, because how come you are
talking white?” Because I refuse to use slang, and, some of my friends get
mad because I speak proper English, or at least I try to. And so, I would
see it more in terms of that spectrum, and for me personally, where I
would put myself, because of my family background, and because my
parents are educated, and both have high- level degrees, I would be in the
middle, or toward the white Latino side of the spectrum.
For Carlos, the designation as white Latino conveys more than color. It
reflects his middle- class status, which moves him closer to white privi-
lege than to black marginalization.
Experiences of discrimination also factored into some millennials’
claim for a racial middle that tilts toward white. These youths do not
identify racially as white but nevertheless locate their racial position as
leaning toward white because they do not face the same kind of discrim-
ination as blacks, but neither do they enjoy the privileges of whiteness.

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Rick, a twenty- year- old third- generation Mexican who identifies racially
as a white Hispanic, says that others see him as white and that he feels
closer to both Latinos and whites. He states, “I would say that I, along
with those like me, fit within the white dichotomy. We do not face as
much discrimination, if any at all, depending on where you grow up. We
are just viewed as being more white than black.” As Jay, a twenty- eight-
year- old third- generation man who identifies racially as Mexican but
says people usually think he is Italian, says, “I don’t know. If it’s black and
white, I would say it’s gotta be more white than black if you go on ste-
reotypes. Or if not white, then somewhere in the middle. There’s no way
I could identify with black because I think in terms of, you know, being
racist or discriminated against, it’s a different world. Black stereotypes
do not fit obviously the white stereotypes, and most Mexican people are
known as hard workers. Where you have the stereotype of black people
being lazy for the most part.” Jay, as well as many other Latino millenni-
als, accept stereotypical views of Latinos and blacks that are particularly
critical of blacks (see Feagin and Cobas 2014). They also subscribe to the
notion of black exceptionalism by viewing blacks as the most disadvan-
taged group. Blanca, who is a twenty- four- year- old, second- generation
Mexican and identifies racially as Hispanic, lays out the dilemma expe-
rienced by those who feel they have had it better than blacks but not as
good as whites when she says, “I don’t feel like I’ve been discriminated
against or anything so . . . I don’t know if I would fit in with the white.”
This feeling that blacks have had it harder while whites have it easier
makes it difficult for these Latinos to identify as either blacks or whites.
Identification as a racial middle tilting toward white may also reflect
somewhat more access to white privilege relative to blacks. As Carina, a
twenty- two- year- old second- generation Mexican who identifies racially
as other, expresses in the previous chapter, she has access to some white
privilege. She says she falls on the white side of the color line “based
on the color of my skin. Based on my education too. Level of educa-
tion. Just because I see a lot of poorer groups.” Carina recognizes that
because of their darker skin color, some Latinos do not have access to
white privilege, but as a light- skinned Latina, she is privy to some of
these advantages. This sentiment echoes Fox and Guglielmo’s (2012) ar-
gument that positions Latinos as boundary straddlers. In their historical
analysis, they found that Latinos have been construed simultaneously as

L at i n o s as a R ac ia l M i d d l e | 109
white and nonwhite and that they have had experiences that share com-
monalities with those of both whites and blacks without being the same
as either, thus reflecting a unique process of racialization and racial po-
sition as a relevant social category in U.S. society.
Some of these millennials reluctantly acknowledge that they fall
closer to the white side of the color line not because of their own identi-
fication but because of how the government classifies Latinos as white.
Elianna, a twenty- year- old second- generation Mexican who identifies
racially as Hispanic and feels most distant from whites, explains, “In
terms of the government and their kind of labeling, I would be consid-
ered white just because everything that is not black fits into that even
though you might be darker. I feel it is very limiting. That dichotomy is
not a good representation of race and just people in general. I don’t re-
ally agree with it, but in forms where the government would place me in
other kinds of structures [it] would probably be in the white dichotomy
area.” While Elianna sees herself as a racial middle who does not fit into
either end of the color line, she is aware that “officially” she is pressed
into the white side of the color line.
While their attitudes seem to align with the black exceptionalism
and the whitening of Latinos, these youths’ position as a racial middle
tilting toward white has more to do with being able to “pass” as white
among strangers, or seeing themselves as disadvantaged in comparison
to whites but not as disadvantaged as blacks, or being racialized differ-
ently from blacks. Yet these youths feel most distant and alienated from
whites, conveying that despite their apparent racial proximity, they are
still clearly outside the boundaries of whiteness.
A Racial Middle Tilting toward Black
Defying common assumptions about Latinos’ gravitation toward white,
almost a quarter of the “racial middle” Latino millennials defined them-
selves as a racial middle that tilts toward the black side of the color line.
Similarly to those whose racial middle tilts toward white, these youths’
reasons were partially about their skin color, appearance, or ancestry but
mostly about their racialization as minorities, which drew them closer
to the black end of the color line. Ana, a twenty- two- year- old second-
generation Guatemalan who identifies racially as Latina, states that she

110 | L at i n o s as a R ac ia l M i d d l e
would fall “probably in the black. If I got choices, maybe the black. One,
I’m a minority, and two, just ’cause I’m darker- skinned, and [three] we
don’t tend to get the same opportunities as other people.” As Frances,
a twenty- year- old second- generation Mexican who identifies racially
as Latina, states, “Well, I think that there’s white, and then our race. I
think we fall in with the blacks, or Middle Eastern.” This divide between
whites and “our race” does not mean they occupy the same racial posi-
tion; rather, the racial hierarchy is best characterized by a sharper line
dividing whites from all other groups.
There are some national origin differences in how these millenni-
als conceptualized Latinos as a racial middle tilting toward black. Most
youths who mentioned ancestry, phenotype, or skin color tended to be
Puerto Rican or Cuban, while those who focused mainly on shared ra-
cial experiences were Mexicans. This is consistent with a previous study
in which I found that Puerto Ricans felt closer to blacks because they
traced their ancestry partially to Africa or found more cultural com-
monalities between Puerto Rican and African American cultures, while
for Mexicans, the basis of this closeness was their similar experiences of
discrimination (Flores- González 1999). For instance, Roberto, a Puerto
Rican man who identifies racially as Hispanic, says he falls “in between
there. They say we come from black mixed with the Hispanics. I would
have to go more toward being black as I’m black skin.” Another Puerto
Rican, Miguel, aged twenty- six, defines himself racially as Latino but
says, “I say more of the black because [of ] our ancestry going back has
to do more with the Africans. So I say more the black.” Still another
Puerto Rican, Michael, a twenty- seven- year- old third- generation man
who identifies racially as white because he has light skin and defines
Latinos as a racial “rainbow,” sums all of this up when he says:
We’re the rainbow. Specifically, I can say Puerto Ricans but for many La-
tinos we’re the rainbow. I guess my phenotype, what I express on my face
is white but my genotype has to be a mixture of everything. My grand-
mother is black. If we’re talking about race as far as black and white, my
grandma is black. She is dark as hell. I’m pretty light- skinned, so if you’re
going to base it just on the way I look, then, yeah, I’m white. But as far
as my genotype, as far as what DNA makes me up, I’m different. I’m ev-
erything. Every Puerto Rican is too. We’re the rainbow. I don’t think you

L at i n o s as a R ac ia l M i d d l e | 111
can define them as black and white. Whether Puerto Ricans are white,
whether Puerto Ricans are black, we’re everything.
Being “everything,” it is impossible to choose one side of the color line.
Besides having a “genotype” that is so mixed that it makes him “every-
thing,” Michael understands that his location as a racial middle that
leans toward black is based on physical proximity, cultural affinity, and
shared racial experiences. He adds:
I think that they [blacks] have a similar experience to the Puerto Rican
experience, and a lot of our art and music is based on, well, you know, a
lot of Puerto Rican music comes from Africa, a lot of it is rooted in Af-
rica, like African American music. So I think that I definitely connect a
lot with African Americans. Plus growing up I had a lot of black friends.
Here in Logan Square, growing up in the eighties and nineties, it was
Puerto Ricans and blacks. That’s mainly what you had here. And so I
thought I connected more with them, based on our experiences growing
up, and based on what we’ve been through. . . . Even though I think that
my personal experience here growing up in Chicago is closest to African
Americans, more so than Mexican, because of where I grew up, and be-
cause of the music that I listened to growing up, and because of the games
that I played, I’d still say, yeah, those two groups.
For Michael, his physical proximity, cultural similarities and shared
racial experiences as a Latino drive him closer to blacks despite his light
skin color.
Some Latino millennials point to the structural dimension of Latino
marginality that places them closer to the black experience. Placing her-
self on the black side of the color line, Elissa, a nineteen- year- old second-
generation woman who identifies racially as Mexican, notices the shared
disadvantages of Latinos and blacks when saying, “Well, I would say
black because we all tend to live in the worst neighborhoods, and we’re
like segregated basically by our government, and we don’t always go to
the best schools. We go to the public schools, and we don’t always get
the best teachers.” These youths often lived in the same neighborhoods
as blacks and attended school and developed friendships with blacks.
The effect of residential and school segregation cannot be overstated

112 | L at i n o s as a R ac ia l M i d d l e
here, since which side of the color line these millennials tilted toward
had much to do with which group was more proximate physically. Most
located themselves toward the bottom of the racial hierarchy because
they shared space (in neighborhoods and schools) and experiences of
racialization with blacks.
For others, particularly for Mexicans, tilting toward black had mainly
to do with a shared minority status. Manuel, a twenty- seven- year- old
second- generation Mexican who identifies racially as human and is per-
ceived as Mexican or white, says he is a “middle ground,” but he also
states that he “would fit in the category of black man.” He drives this
issue home when he says that the white and black lens diminishes and
hides the distinct forms of marginalization of Latinos, Asians, and Na-
tive Americans:
Well, in this dichotomy we fall to the wayside, definitely marginalized.
I wouldn’t want to say more than blacks, but we’re marginalized. We’re
definitely excluded. I mean everything is going to be a black and white
issue. It’s not a black and white issue. There’s Asians and Latinos. There’s
different ethnicities like Native Americans, and to make it just a black
and white issue polarizes it and leaves out this middle ground. Exclusion,
I guess . . . when it comes to talking about social issues [it is about] black
and white issues. Definitely, I feel that we’re not really included. Recently
I feel like there’s been more because of the immigration issue.
This division of the color line into a white/black binary obscures
the fact that nonwhite, nonblack groups also experience exclusion, but
in different ways. Latinos share minority status with other nonwhite
groups, but each group’s experiences are unique and reflective of their
particular history of oppression. Growing up in white suburbia, Manuel
has many white friends but feels “a little more conscious,” especially
when he spots a black or “a Mexican kid here in a sea of like white kids. I
think I would identify more with the other category, I mean, I don’t have
any animosity toward whites, unless if it comes off like it is vulgar [and]
explicit racism. I try to see it more as a system of social constructs.”
Recalling a conversation with one of his professors, he concludes that
he “would fit into the category of black man. And I think it’s because
I work with communities of color because I don’t hold the traditional

L at i n o s as a R ac ia l M i d d l e | 113
Eurocentric, you know, like ideals, and yeah I would identify more with
them [blacks]. I think our people have experienced similar discrimina-
tion, the specifics are different but I think general, we’re always others.
We’re always the other category. Excluded, definitely. We don’t fit the
Eurocentric model.”
Arielle, a twenty- one- year- old second- generation woman who identi-
fies racially as Mexican, sums it up when she says that she feels closer to
blacks because Latinos and blacks are in the “same boat.” Being viewed
as “not bad but not good,” these youths feel that they do not truly belong
among whites. Mary, a nineteen- year- old third- generation woman who
identifies racially as Mexican, states, “I think I would be closer to being
black than I would to being white because Mexicans are minorities just
like blacks. I don’t think white people will ever truly accept us either.”
Also feeling unaccepted, Liz, a twenty- six- year- old second- generation
woman who identifies racially as Mexican, explains, “I think society
would place me closer to black because of the oppressing natures that
the white dichotomy have on the black and Hispanic population. We
are seen as outsiders in this country, as someone who does not belong.”
She is “more comfortable with the black [side of the] dichotomy because
they [blacks] deal with a lot of stereotypes and oppressions as well, so
I feel that I can relate more to them. . . . I would have to say that the
Caucasian ethnicity I feel farther from due to the fact that I think in my
lifetime I felt more put down by them on a whole.”
While these millennials identify as a racial middle tilting toward
black, this identification is not without conflicted feelings that arise as
they yearn for privilege. For instance, Yahaira, a twenty- four- year- old
second- generation woman who identifies racially as Mexican, locates
herself closer to blacks but at the same time tries to put distance between
herself and blacks to gain some of the perks she perceives she will get by
being closer to whites:
I would categorize myself more toward the black side of the color line in
terms of race. Of course, everyone would like to be more white. They get
the advantages in life. But I know that society puts me toward the black
side, mainly because of the color of my skin. . . . I feel closer, clearly, to
any Hispanic or Latino group. While I’m still a minority, I feel closer to
the white side of the spectrum, rather than the black side. Part of this is

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how I was brought up, black people are not right. But, it’s also how I see
it. I do not want to be associated with them in terms of the social and
racial aspect, I would rather be associated with the white category. But
that does not mean that I am racist toward them. One of my best friends
is black. I just have a different idea about where I want to be on the social
and political ladder.
Yahaira’s narrative conveys these youths’ understanding about racial
privilege and the disadvantages that identifying as black may pose for
them; still, they feel that their racial experiences are closer to those of
blacks and thus orient the racial middle toward the black side of the
color line.
Rethinking Latinos’ Location in the Racial Order
The Latino millennials’ narratives presented in this chapter challenge
notions about the U.S. racial order as a binary delineated by a sharp
color line that places whites in a superior position and blacks in a subor-
dinate position, and assumes that Latinos, based on their racial features,
fall on one or the other side. Posing a challenge to this assumption is
the fact that only a few of the youths located themselves on the white
or black side of the color line and that their narratives are littered with
inconsistencies. Simply put, their racial location as white or black does
not match their racial identification, nor does it pair with their stated
social distance from particular groups. It is therefore faulty to use racial
identification as a proxy for racial location. The inconsistency between
racial location and racial identification suggests that Latinos’ racial loca-
tion choice is “by default” and is a response to the binary logic that if
they do not fall on the black side of the color line, they must fall on the
white side and vice versa. That is, they are trying to make sense of a
racial rationale that does not reflect their racial reality.
Also trying to make sense of this flawed racial rationale, and posing
another critique of it, are the vast majority of youths who identified as a
racial middle. At one end are the majority who say that their racial posi-
tion falls between whites and blacks. These youths pry open this binary
by wedging themselves in between and thus turning it from a biracial
to a triracial or multiracial order. Next to them are those who seem to

L at i n o s as a R ac ia l M i d d l e | 115
conform— although reluctantly and unconvincingly— to the racial bi-
nary. These youths say that they do not fall on either side of the color
line. At the other end are the youths who refuse to place themselves in
the racial order; they see the racial order as flawed but cannot imagine
how to reconstitute it to reflect their racial reality.
Although the racial middle is not a new concept, it is largely under-
theorized. By digging deeply into the youths’ understanding of their
racial location, I provide a more intricate conceptualization of the
racial middle. First, the youths’ narratives contradict notions of the
racial middle as a “catchall” category that includes other groups, in-
cluding Asians— those groups that Bonilla- Silva (2004) calls honorary
whites— or as a “transitional stage” on the path to assimilation, such as
like Lee and Bean’s (2010) social whitening. These youths’ responses are
in tune with others (e.g., Hitlin, Brown, and Elder 2007; Frank, Akresh,
and Lu 2010), who point to Latinos as one of the multiple intermediate
categories occupied by Asians, Middle Easterners, and Native Ameri-
cans. Each of these intermediate categories corresponds to the unique
racialization of these nonwhite/nonblack groups. Rather than a one-
dimensional hierarchical racial structure, these youths’ narratives sug-
gest a hierarchical racial structure wherein group position is based on
how each group is racialized along multiple dimensions. Kim’s (1999)
racial triangulation model serves as a more fitting model for under-
standing how these Latino millennials think about their racial location.
In determining their racial location, these youths invariably made com-
parisons with other groups. They viewed their racial position as inferior
to that of whites, who have access to privilege, and to Asians, who stand
out as model minorities. However, they are slightly higher in positioning
compared with blacks, with whom they share minority status along the
valorization scale. Yet, in the civic ostracism scale, they were lower than
any other group (as both white and blacks are indisputable Americans),
and although they shared with Asians status as foreigners, it was Latinos
who were associated with “illegality.”
Second, their narratives show that the Latino racial middle is not a
static or uniform intermediate category. While as a group Latinos con-
stitute a racial middle that lies between the white and the black sides of
the color line, the location of individuals within the racial middle var-
ies, as some place themselves closer to whites or blacks. This variation

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depends on individual characteristics— including skin color and social
class— as well as their racial experiences. As a result, the racial middle
can be divided into three segments: a segment that is located solidly in
the middle, one that tilts toward white, and another that tilts toward
blacks.
These narratives emphasize the need for the rearticulation of the ra-
cial order from one that focuses on a biracial divide based on colorism
to one with a multiracial divide based on other variables that affect ra-
cialization. In making sense of their racial location, these youths engage
in comparisons with other racial groups. Through these comparisons,
they come to understand that they are racialized differently from whites
and blacks, as well as from other minority groups. Many factors weigh
on these comparisons, including skin color and phenotype, cultural and
ideological similarities, physical proximity to other groups, social class
and access to privilege, and racial experiences. These factors accentuated
similarities and differences between the groups, leading them to con-
ceptualize the racial order as nonbinary. Although these factors partly
determine Latinos’ place in the racial hierarchy, these youths’ racial lo-
cation has much to do with how their Latin American ancestry “oth-
ers” them as nonwhite and nonblack. Without minimizing the higher
frequency and intensity of negative racial experiences of darker- skinned
Latinos, it is evident from the narratives of light- skinned Latinos as well
as from the narratives of Latinos who have a white parent that they also
face frequent and insidious discrimination as they go about their daily
lives.
Overall, Latino millennials’ narratives point to the inadequacy of the
conventional conceptions of the racial order to account for how people
actually think of their own and others’ racial positions. These conven-
tional ideas are divorced from present- day notions of the racial hierar-
chy, particularly for Latinos. Being subsumed under ill- fitting categories
highlights their racial exclusion from the imagined U.S. society. Claim-
ing a racial middle then reflects their efforts toward racial inclusion.

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5
Latinos as “Real” Americans
Latino millennials’ narratives convey their reluctance, in many cases,
to identify as Americans. This sentiment is expressed by Johnny, a
twenty- three- year- old second- generation man who identifies ethni-
cally and racially as Mexican, when he bluntly states, “I don’t feel like
I am American, I feel like I am Mexican American.” Manuel, a twenty-
seven- year- old second- generation Mexican, expresses this reluctance
by saying, “I’m a citizen. I was born here. So in a strict definition of
a citizen, I am a citizen. American? That’s up for discussion.” Another
millennial, Manolo, a twenty- two- year- old second- generation Mexican,
sheds light on this reluctance to identify as American when he states,
“I don’t use ‘American’ to describe myself because I think others would
not. I am a citizen, though. I’m born here in the [United] States. But
I think that the word ‘American’ is not used to describe Mexicans or
any other Latinos in this country.” Most poignant is the comment made
by Diego, a twenty- two- year- old second- generation man who identifies
ethnically as Mexican and Latino and racially as Mexican, and struggles
to define himself as an American. To him, “American can be anybody. I
kind of understand why, the idea behind it, trying to have unity, trying
to have everybody be the same or something like that. I say something
like that because I’m not even sure what it is, what it’s supposed to be.
Maybe that’s a reflection of how I feel, you know, in this country. I’m
not even sure what the hell an American is supposed to be like, you
know, and I’ve been living here twenty- two years, since I was born. So
what does that tell you?” Like Diego, these youths denounce the claim
to inclusiveness that is central to the American ideal because in practice
not everyone is viewed as an American. They hesitate to call themselves
Americans because that is neither how others define them nor an iden-
tity they can claim without raising eyebrows.
These narratives illustrate what Castles and Davidson (2000) call
“citizens who do not belong” and Ngai (2007) labels as “alien citizens”

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because, despite their political membership— through their birthright
citizenship— these youths are not recognized as members of the nation.
Their racial and/or ethnic traits— actual or assumed— are the basis for
their exclusion. Castles and Davidson argue that when minority groups,
such as the youths in this study, are denied cultural membership, this
exclusion serves as the basis for their collective— and continuous—
identification as ethnics. Their reluctance to identify as Americans or as
fully American and their persistence in identifying panethnically can be
understood as a reaction to their exclusion from the American imagined
community.
At the root of these youths’ feeling of marginalization from the nation
is the contradiction between the way in which belonging to the Ameri-
can imagined community is defined and the way in which it actually
plays out. In principle, “American” signifies cultural membership based
on the shared values and ideals that are assumed to characterize Ameri-
can national identity. The rhetoric of civic nationalism or Americanism
is embodied in the principles of ethnoculturalism (white, Anglo- Saxon,
Protestant heritage), liberalism (the ideal of freedom and opportunity),
civic republicanism (the notion of civic responsibility and the common
good), and incorporationism (the notion of America as a multiracial/
multicultural nation of immigrants; Schildkraut 2011; Smith 1988). In
practice, it is the ideal of ethnoculturalism that bears the most weight
and defines who is considered legitimately an American. Theiss- Morse
(2009) argues that “who counts” as American continues to go hand in
hand with the “true American” prototype, which she describes as white,
northern European, and Christian. Borrowing from Benedict Ander-
son’s (2006) notion of the national group as an imagined community,
groups that do not fit the “true American” prototype, physically and/or
culturally, are not “imagined” as Americans, are easily dismissed as “not
quite Americans,” and are stripped of the rights, freedom, and equality
enjoyed by prototypical Americans (Theiss- Morse 2009; Carbado 2005;
Haney Lopez 2006). Those who fail to meet the ethnocultural ideal—
physically and/or culturally— are not seen as American regardless of
their adherence to American values. Because ideas about both race and
culture make up the “ethnocultural” ideal, I favor ethnoracial ideal as a
more appropriate and true- to- self label. In this chapter, I examine how
U.S.- born Latino millennials construct collective notions of national be-

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longing that contest their ethnoracial exclusion and allow them to rei-
magine themselves as Americans.
Ethnoracial Citizenship
In making sense of the youths’ narratives of national belonging and their
efforts at rebranding the American identity, two theoretical frameworks
are particularly helpful: Rosaldo’s (1997) Latino cultural citizenship and
Tsuda’s (2014) racial citizenship. The Latino cultural citizenship frame-
work poses that in the United States, citizenship and cultural difference
are defined as incompatible, and thus it is assumed that one cannot be
ethnic and American at the same time or, to put it another way, one can-
not be culturally different from the dominant national culture and still
be considered an American. Rosaldo (1997) argues that the notion of
universal citizenship is predicated on the white male heteronormative
subject and the unacknowledged exclusion and marginalization of those
who do not conform to— or fit into— this ideal subject. He advances the
concept of cultural citizenship to account for how marginalized groups
develop notions of citizenship that subvert this dominant ideology.
Rosaldo and Flores (1997, 57) define cultural citizenship as “the right to
be different (in terms of race, ethnicity, or native language) with respect
to the norms of the dominant national community, without compromis-
ing one’s right to belong, in the sense of participating in the nation- state’s
democratic process.”
Studies using Rosaldo’s cultural citizenship framework show that
through the use of counterideologies, Latinos seek to disrupt the domi-
nant narratives and expand the notion of citizenship by asserting their
right to belong to the nation despite these cultural differences (Ben-
mayor 2002; Flores 2003; Rosaldo and Flores 1997; Silvestrini 1997).
Cultural citizenship then provides Latinos with a means to claim, legiti-
mize, and assert their Americanness, while at the same time redefining
and transforming what it means to be an American. Cultural citizenship
also allows Latinos to construct what Benmayor (2002) calls an inte-
grated subjectivity that bridges their multiple worlds by incorporating
their cultural ideology and practices in their claims for rights and be-
longing. That is, Latinos take those very cultural logics and practices
that marginalize them and turn them into tools for claiming, affirming,

120 | L at i n o s as “ Re a l ” A m e ri c a n s
and transforming what it means to be American in a way that incorpo-
rates their national and their ethnic identities (Benmayor 2002). Lati-
nos, then, question their exclusion by offering an alternative vision of
belonging based on American ideals and values: one in which they can
have both a strong ethnic identification and a strong attachment to the
nation (Silvestrini 1997). In doing so, Latinos claim cultural citizenship
as they seek to move from the fringes to inside the boundaries of the
imagined American community, as they ultimately claim a place at the
table as equals (Benmayor 2002).
Although most of the work on Latino cultural citizenship focuses on
immigrants who have obvious cultural differences, I found that among
the U.S.- born youths in this study, cultural differences were not always
palpable as much as they were assumed. For many, it is their “race” or
physical attributes that deem them not American, even in the absence of
cultural traits. Tsuda (2014) poses that third- and subsequent- generation
ethnic minorities who are not “ethnic” but rather culturally assimilated
to American culture— such as the Japanese Americans he studied—
are more likely to engage in what he calls racial citizenship rather than
in cultural citizenship, as their exclusion is based on racial difference.
While Tsuda acknowledges that Rosaldo’s initial conceptualization of
cultural citizenship accounted for racial differences, he argues that its
operationalization has focused solely on cultural difference. While
I share Tsuda’s concern, I find that his focus on racial difference fails
to capture the symbiotic nature of race and ethnicity that is implied—
although not applied— in Rosaldo’s framework. I pose that racial differ-
ence often triggers the assumption of cultural difference, and that ethnic
markers such as surnames can also trigger assumptions of cultural dif-
ference even in the absence of actual physical or cultural difference.
Given this race- ethnicity symbiosis, I merge the cultural and racial citi-
zenship frameworks and relabel it ethnoracial citizenship as racial traits
and cultural traits both signal non- Americanness.
Using an ethnoracial citizenship framework, this chapter shows how
these youths do not passively accept their exclusion. On the contrary, they
actively contest the limiting definitions set forth by the dominance of an
ethnoracial ideal that rule them out as members of the polity based on
their race and/or cultural traits. Four patterns emerged from the data.
First, these youths denounce the ethnoracial criteria attached to the no-

L at i n o s as “ Re a l ” A m e ri c a n s | 121
tion of being an American. Second, their contestation employs familiar
tropes aligned with the ideals of American civic nationalism and empha-
size their commonality with fellow Americans. These tropes include citi-
zenship, freedom, opportunity, and patriotism. Third, their contestation
also employs counternarratives that emphasize the ethnoracial makeup
that distinguishes them— but at the same time makes them more Ameri-
can. These counternarratives include multiculturalism and intercontinen-
talism. Fourth, they develop an integrated subjectivity that offers a new
vision of what it is to be an American that does not require shedding their
ethnic heritage. Through their narratives, these youths redefine, assert,
and ultimately seek to transform what it means to be an American.
Contesting the American Ethnoracial Ideal
At the heart of the Latino millennials’ refusal to identify as American
is the ethnoracial definition of “American” as white Anglo- Saxon Prot-
estant. Martha, a twenty- seven- year- old second- generation Mexican,
stated in no uncertain terms that American “is a label that was created
to categorize people who follow certain traditions in the United States,
mainly Anglo- Saxon, Protestant, and male. I really don’t think that that
term [‘American’] means much to me. I mean I normally would not say
that I am American.” The conflation of “American” with this ethnora-
cial ideal is illustrated by Raúl, a twenty- one- year- old second- generation
Mexican who identifies racially as indigenous:
Many people associate American as somebody who is born within this
country of immigrants, but American is just an ideology. And there’s
many types of, levels of, what is American. There’s an ideal, I guess. Based
on when this country was illegally founded by Caucasian culture and
people. So that would be the ideal people who would fit that description.
And so anybody else who’s different, with different race or culture, and
who does not fit the description, or doesn’t descend from a British, or Eu-
ropean culture, I guess it would take down their qualifications for being
American, like true Americans. This society has mainly been constructed
and authored by European culture. I guess American, ideally, would be
anybody who is British or European, and comes to settle in what they call
the new world. To come and occupy, and benefit from the land here. So

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I think that, ideally, American is somebody who is accepted by society,
and for their culture and identity, and beliefs— which is often you have to
be white or prescribe to white culture in order to be accepted in society.
Like Diego in his narrative presented earlier, Raúl addresses the contra-
diction between the ideal of inclusiveness that “American” represents
and its actual exclusiveness. Raúl explains that the term “American”
applies fully to people of European ancestry— or whites— who fit the
American prototype. Those who are not descendants of Europeans—
like himself— do not meet the racial and cultural “qualifications for
being American, like true Americans,” and fall on the lower rungs of the
“many types of, levels of, what is American.” Raúl traces this definition
of American to the occupation, settlement, and domination by whites
that led to the normalization of American as white such that “you have
to be white or prescribe to white culture in order to be accepted.” More
to the point, Danny, a twenty- one- year- old second- generation man who
identifies racially as Latino and Mexican, says that even those Latinos
who want to call themselves white “will always be seen as Mexican. . . .
Because of the color of their skin. . . . Well, they are not Caucasian. They
don’t look it, talk it, so they wouldn’t be seen as fully white. They’ll
always be a ‘wannabe white’ Mexican or Puerto Rican.” For Danny, a
Latino can only be a “wannabe white” because Latinos “will always be
seen as Mexican.” As these youths suggests, Latinos are a different— and
presumably lesser and nonwhite— type of American.
In addition to race (white), ancestry (European), and culture (Anglo-
Saxon), these youths also point to class privilege as another compo-
nent of the American ethnoracial ideal. Daniel, a twenty- two- year- old
second- generation Costa Rican who identifies racially as American,
says, “If you were to base it purely on color, American is a white person.
You know, it’s very much the truth, and if you were to drive around the
outskirts of Illinois, even, that’s all who you’d run into— suburban white
people.” Implied in Daniel’s reference to “suburban white people” is the
racial (white) and middle- class (suburban) notion tied to the ethnora-
cial ideal of American. Coupling American with whiteness brings up
white racial and middle- class statuses inherent in the American ideal.
Ricky, a seventeen- year- old second- generation Mexican, explains why
he does not feel “like an American”:

L at i n o s as “ Re a l ” A m e ri c a n s | 123
I guess I think an American is white, though, like I don’t think I really
feel like an American. I feel like a Mexican. I know I live in America and
I know I was born here, but I feel separate from Americans, I guess. . . .
I don’t know, it’s just like Mexicans are different than all of the people I
think are Americans, or say they are Americans. Americans, I don’t know,
they’re like the managers and like the waiters at restaurants. Mexicans
are somewhere in the back all the time. I don’t think Mexicans are really
Americans. I don’t really feel like an American.
Coming from working- class families, and not fitting the ethnoracial
ideal either racially or culturally, very few of the Latino millennials can
then measure up to the white, Anglo- Saxon middle- class standard of
American, conveyed in the image of the white family in a suburban
house with a white picket fence.
To top it off, Americans are also defined as nonimmigrants. That is,
Americans are imagined not only as people of European descent, white,
and middle class but also as nonimmigrants whose families date back
several generations in the United States. Mariann, a twenty- five- year-
old second- generation Puerto Rican, states that “the term [American]
means white European that have a couple generations here. . . . People
that have a house or some form of value. . . . White people.” Implied by a
“couple of generations here” is the lack of recent immigrant background
coupled with “white European” and “people that have a house,” all of
which denote the merging of race, ancestry, culture, and middle- class
status as a proxy for American. These youths’ narratives line up with
those given by Bloemraad’s (2013) respondents, who also equated Amer-
ican with racial majority status, affluence, and privilege— dimensions
that excluded them from claiming Americanness.
Accustomed to not being seen as Americans because they do not fit
the ethnoracial ideal, these youths experience a shock when they are
identified as Americans outside of the United States. Nikki, a twenty-
two- year- old second- generation woman who identifies ethnically and
racially as Mexican, explains this paradox when saying, “I feel that I am
more Mexican than American. Being here in the U.S. you’re automati-
cally Mexican. If I was to go to Mexico, I’m not Mexican. I am Ameri-
can. Being here I feel like it’s not really . . . you’re not titled as you’re
American. Maybe with the government I guess you would be American

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because you were born here, but that is as far as it goes.” For Nikki, call-
ing herself American in the United States is absurd because legally she
may be an American, but “you’re automatically [seen as] Mexican,” but
outside of the United States, she is blatantly American. Mike, a twenty-
eight- year- old second- generation Colombian who identifies racially as
Hispanic, expresses a similar feeling:
In this country I think you are from somewhere else and you are together
with everyone else that is around you. But, I am Colombian here, but
when I go to Colombia, I am American. So no one is really American
here unless they leave the country. . . . Citizens, I don’t think anyone is
an American because everyone came from somewhere else. You are not
American even if you were born here, your family is still from somewhere
else unless you are Native American. . . . I am Colombian because that is
where my parents are from, but I am also American because I was born
here. But, I am a Colombian by nature, and when I leave the country, I
will be American.
Mike and Nikki are just two of the many Latino millennials who spoke
of their experience as Americans when abroad.
Yet, more shockingly, when these youths are abroad, they often dis-
cover just how American they actually are. Manuel, who in the opening
paragraph of this chapter expressed his reluctance to identify as Amer-
ican, is among those who was surprised to find that although in the
United States these youths’ Americanness is often doubted, outside of
the United States, they are glaringly so. Manuel says, “I don’t fit the idea
[of American] because the idea is a very Eurocentric idea. But, I mean, if
we broaden it and try not to be so specific, like you know when I travel,
when I leave the country, when I went to Mexico it’s like people knew I
was American. You know, my tattoos are American, my shoes are Amer-
ican, my clothes are American, my accent in Spanish is American. And
my English, you know, I speak mostly without an accent so they hear me
speak and they see me, they’re like ‘Americano,’ you know, American.”
While abroad, Manuel stands out as unmistakably American, with his
visible tattoos, clothing styles, and “American” accent when speaking
Spanish as telltale signs. Yet, in the United States, he is not unmistakably
American.

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Whatever hope these Latino millennials had of fitting into the pa-
rental homeland quickly vanishes upon visiting. They realize that they
are not as ethnically authentic as they had thought, and it dawns on
them just how American they really are. For Sofia, going to Mexico
“just makes me feel really American.” In telling about his experiences
in Mexico, Manuel states that “it was definitely a connection, an experi-
ence, and it definitely made me realize how Mexican I really am not. You
know because people here will be like ‘You’re Mexican’ or ‘This is Mexi-
can.’ The Mexicans here, not only the Americans, the Euro- Americans
but the Mexican Americans will be like ‘This is what a Mexican is.’ And
then you go there and you’re like ‘No, you got it all wrong. You think
that’s Mexican.’ But people down there [don’t consider it Mexican].”
For Manuel, as for many of the youths, travel to the parental homeland
brings the realization that they’ve “got it all wrong”— that is, that what
they had assumed to be Mexican is not really Mexican. Living in the
United States, these youths held essentialist and often static notions of
cultural authenticity that do not conform to cultural norms, to cultural
change, or to cultural diversity in the parental homeland. These youths
experience what others refer to as “ni de aquí, ni de allá,” or a feeling that
they do not belong fully in either place.
American Tropes and National Identity
Because they do not fit the ethnoracial criteria attached to notions of the
American subject, these youths engage in the contestation of their exclu-
sion. Demonstrating their understanding of American national ideology,
they deploy familiar American tropes to assert themselves as members
of the nation. Like Bloemraad’s (2013) respondents, these youths form
notions of belonging that emphasize their U.S. citizenship and their
subscription to perceived American civic ideals. Latino millennials in
my study employed the tropes of citizenship, freedom, opportunity, and
patriotism. In the following pages, I discuss how, through the use of
these tropes, Latino millennials emphasize their similarities, as well as
the differences that make them particularly American, or at least a type
of American. I also pay attention to intervening factors— such as gender,
educational level, and racial identification— that may skew individuals
to deploy particular tropes.

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Not fitting the American ethnocultural ideal (white, middle- class,
and suburban), these youths seek to redefine Americanness by equat-
ing it to citizenship. The use of citizenship as proof of Americanness is
widespread, as there were no discernible gender, educational, or racial
identification differences among the youths engaged in this form of con-
testation. These youths take on a more pragmatic stance that emphasizes
birthright citizenship as the primary prerequisite for being American,
and point to their birthright citizenship as incontrovertible proof of
their Americanness. Alluding to his earlier comment that tied American
to whiteness and middle- class status, Daniel adds:
For me it’s the people who were born on American soil. But I know that
when most people think about that term, they picture a stereotypical
white person, you know, fair and middle- class and suburban. . . . But I
think that people who contribute to this country and who seek to im-
prove themselves when it comes to their education and career should
be allowed to become American citizens. But truly, for me, you are most
American if you’re born on the American soil. [And] based on what the
law says, because I was born in the United States of America, I am an
American. I mean, I can still run for the presidency. Just based on that
concept, that rule, I am an American.
As Daniel points out, American is imagined as “the stereotypical white
person” who is “fair[- skinned] and middle- class and suburban.” And
while he calls on the American values of liberalism (“seek to improve
themselves”) and civic republicanism (“contribute to this country”), ulti-
mately, for him, it is birthright citizenship (“born on American soil”)
that proves that “you are most American.” Likewise, Adamaris, a twenty-
one- year- old second- generation Guatemalan who identifies racially as
Latina, emphasizes this legal angle when stating that American means
“that you were born in this country. . . . I was born here and I’m a U.S.
citizen so  .  .  . by law I’m an American.” Other youths also identify
themselves as Americans because of their U.S. birth. Justin, a twenty-
three- year- old second- generation Mexican who identifies racially as
Latino, states that an American is “anybody who was born in this coun-
try within the borders of the United States of America.” Also stressing
U.S. birth, Samantha, a twenty- two- year- old third- generation Mexican

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Puerto Rican who identifies as white, says that Americans are “people
who are citizens here. You know, that is what America means to me. If
you’re from this country, you’re an American.” Youths like Adamaris,
Justin, and Samantha link American to birthright citizenship. This
pragmatic— and legal— approach to Americanness was also observed
by Bloemraad (2013), particularly among U.S.- born participants who,
despite invoking other American ideals, ultimately relied on citizenship
to prove their Americanness.
Many youths extend this legal definition of American to include nat-
uralized citizens. Araceli, a twenty- seven- year- old second- generation
Mexican who identifies racially as Mexican, states that “an American is a
person who was born in the U.S. or has resided here for many years and
has become a citizen.” Yet, Americanness is not limited to citizens, as
some youths extend it also to noncitizens. Martha expands on her pre-
vious ethnocultural definition of American to include legal permanent
residents as American when she states, “It can be anyone that’s living
in the United States that can identify as American. But then again, it’s
also takes into consideration someone’s legality in the United States. So,
whether you are a U.S. citizen, or you’re legally here as a resident. . . . If I
were to place myself within that definition, I am an American because I
am a U.S.- born citizen.” Although Americanness seems to imply legality,
some push the limits of this equation by also including noncitizens—
and presumably undocumented immigrants. For instance, Marina, a
twenty- three- year- old second- generation Mexican who identifies ra-
cially as Hispanic, adds that an American is “anyone born or raised here,
anyone living here.”
Despite claiming Americanness through their citizenship, these
youths know that they are not considered Americans— especially by
whites. Rosario, a twenty- four- year- old second- generation woman who
identifies racially as Mexican, says, “To me, the term ‘American’ means
white man. . . . Well Americans are supposed to be everyone living in
America, or have citizenship, but everyone doesn’t get treated like an
American. . . . I fit in this definition because I have citizenship, but lots
of time when the issue of immigration comes up and I’m around my
white friends, they sometimes joke about me being an immigrant or not
really American.” Here, Rosario starts by connecting American to the
ethnoracial ideal and to legality. The predominance of the ethnoracial

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ideal comes through when she implies that citizenship does not guaran-
tee that she will be seen and treated as an American, even by those who
know she is U.S.- born. Although Rosario dismisses her white friends’
comments as jokes, they are intended to remind her of her exclusion as
a national subject.
Instances of white supremacy are not missed on Javier, a twenty- four-
year- old second- generation Mexican who identifies as Latino, when he
exclaims, “I mean, in an ideal world, I would tell you that all that live
here are Americans. I would say that America is the melting pot and that
we all are part of it. But that is not true. Americans are the elite of the
race, and they dictate who is American and who is not.” Similar portray-
als of whites as the “elite of the race” and as those who determine “who
counts” were expressed by other Latino millennials, as well as their sense
that birthright citizenship is not a proxy for American. As a result, many
stress their engagement with the American ideals of liberalism and civic
republicanism to assert their Americanness.
Latino millennials also play up their Americanness by emphasizing
their adoption of the liberal ideals of freedom and opportunity. Similarly
to those who emphasized their citizenship to stake a claim as members
of the nation, there were no significant gender, educational, or racial
identification differences among those deploying the American lib-
eral trope of freedom in order to prove their Americanness. For these
youths, the trope of freedom is an essential component of American-
ness. As Kate, a twenty- three- year- old second- generation Mexican who
identifies racially as human and Hispanic, exclaims, “Freedom! Freedom
is a big issue for Americans. Everything is about being free. There is all
the talk about the war and all the different sides about it, and I think it’s,
just, Americans are obsessed with freedom.” Defining freedom as a “big
issue” and an obsession, Kate casts it as a fundamental precept of Ameri-
can national identity. Blanca, a twenty- four- year- old second- generation
Mexican who identifies racially as Hispanic, also thinks that being
American is “just having that freedom that other people don’t have. It’s
very important. I think that’s the most important American thing—
freedom.” To these youths, freedom is an essential value that character-
izes American national identity, and it is a value that they share.
When speaking about freedom, these youths zero in on freedom
of speech without fear of retaliation, which they say distinguishes

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the United States from other countries. José, a twenty- eight- year- old
second- generation Mexican Cuban who identifies racially as Latino,
states, “What makes someone an American would mostly be the idea of
the freedom that you have.” He goes on to explain that in “other coun-
tries you can’t really speak your voice. If you wrote something in an
article, about a political figure . . . they would hunt you down. Punish
you. Punish your family. Here, you can speak about anybody.” José is
not alone, as others shared this notion of freedom as part of American
exceptionalism. Brian, a twenty- two- year- old second- generation Mexi-
can Irish man who identifies racially as American, also sees freedom
as a particular American characteristic that is not found everywhere.
To him, “What it means to be American comes back to the whole free-
dom of choice thing that separates us from every other country. We have
choices no one else does. We can say our President sucks, and no one
else can. So, we have choice and we have freedom of opinion. . . . [Amer-
icans] accept someone disagreeing with [them] and honoring their posi-
tion whether they are racists or not . . . rather than killing them over it
like in other countries— like in Afghanistan.” Brian buys into the trope
of American exceptionalism by believing that Americans have freedom
of speech and can state their opinion without fear for their lives, even
if their comments are critical of the government or offensive to others,
unlike the censure that he believes exists in other countries.
Latino millennials also pair Americanness with the liberal trope
of opportunity. Youths who engaged with the trope of opportunity
tended to identify racially by ethnic origin and/or panethnically, and
while all viewed the United States as a land of opportunity, there was
a slight difference in how young men and women measured success.
Expressions of “America as the land of opportunity” and the “American
dream” are common in these youths’ narratives, particularly in refer-
ence to their families’ immigration stories. Laura, a twenty- year- old
second- generation Mexican who identifies her race as Mexican, links
her parents’ motivation to migrate to the opportunities available for
their children in the United States. For Laura, “America is just like an
opportunity for us, and I don’t know if it’s because my parents that’s
how they spoke of it as ‘America is your opportunity to succeed in life
the way we didn’t.’ So my parents didn’t have the opportunity, so they
gave us the opportunity.” Laura, like many millennials, is aware of her

130 | L at i n o s as “ Re a l ” A m e ri c a n s
parents’ struggles and lack of opportunity in Mexico. Taking their par-
ents’ country of origin as their point of reference, these youths view the
United States as the land of opportunity. Similarly, Manolo, who at the
beginning of this chapter expressed his reluctance to call himself Ameri-
can, explains the promise of opportunity through his family’s immigrant
story when he says, “Being American means that you have the right to
get whatever you work hard for. That is why my parents came to the
States, for my family to be able have more in life. In Mexico, there are no
jobs like here, no chance because of our government. We were not able
to get anything that would allow us to get ahead. By coming to America
and becoming American, my parents thought we could have all this and
more by going to school here, learning the language, getting smart and
helping them when we get good jobs.” For Manolo’s family, the United
States represents social mobility for those willing to work hard, oppor-
tunities that simply did not exist in Mexico. Sharing the ethic of hard
work, his family fits the American trope of pulling oneself up by one’s
bootstraps.
Many Latino millennials shared the belief in the American promise
of social mobility for those who work hard. Gonzalo, a twenty- two- year-
old second- generation man who identifies racially as Mexican, makes
explicit reference to the American dream and to his will and drive to
succeed as proof of his Americanness:
[American is] someone who does what they can in order to achieve what-
ever goal. It doesn’t matter what the color of their skin is. It’s the goal that
they seek out and hope to obtain it. Like, they’ll do whatever it is in order
to achieve the American dream. Anyone that can achieve the American
dream is considered an American in my eyes. . . . I try to make a better
future for myself. I try to set down some goals. I am a person that lives
in this country. I do want to be successful in life and have all the good
things. And I guess that’s what makes me American.
In his narrative, Gonzalo downplays the significance of race as a defin-
ing American trait by stressing that “it doesn’t matter what the color of
their skin is,” insisting that “what makes me American” is his pursuit
of opportunities. Similarly, Diana, a nineteen- year- old third- generation
Mexican who identifies as Hispanic, believes that what characterizes

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Americans is taking “advantage of the opportunities that are avail-
able” and wanting to “achieve more than they’re handed.” The belief
that anything is possible if one works hard resonates with Katerina, a
nineteen- year- old second- generation Ecuadorian who identifies racially
as Hispanic, as she adds that “the term American means being able to
have the privilege to accomplish anything you want in life” and, more
concretely, “being able to attend school, given freedom of speech, and to
vote.” For these youths, their Americanness is asserted by their pursuit
of these opportunities and their promise of social mobility.
Some youths went beyond the pursuit of opportunities by accentu-
ating their Americanness through their accomplishments. Gender in-
teracted with how youths viewed success, with young women pointing
to their educational achievement as proof of their Americanness while
young men were less enthusiastic. Similar to Nancy López (2002), I
found that young women viewed education as an avenue for social mo-
bility and as a means for economic independence and self- sufficiency.
Lisa, a twenty- five- year- old second- generation Colombian who iden-
tifies her race as “none- Hispanic,” is proud of putting herself through
college. She says, “To me [American] means being independent and
helping your community just like being independent and successful
bringing yourself up and having that opportunity.” Likewise, Sarah, a
twenty- one- year- old second- generation woman who identifies racially
as Mexican, sees herself reflected in the American dream. To her, an
American is “anyone who has lived here and has taken on the way of
American life, but others believe its people who are citizens and have
the right to vote. . . . I’d say I’m American. I was born here. I’m almost
done with college. I want a good- paying job with benefits.” Like Lisa,
Sarah and the other young women in my study do not hold on to the
American dream naively. Their experiences at school and at work re-
mind them that as Latinas, they are subject to discrimination. Yet their
gender shelters them from the more frequent and intense racial experi-
ences of surveillance and overt discrimination that are typical among
young men and that contribute to their bleaker outlooks on the promise
of opportunity (see chapter 2).
While buying into the tropes of opportunity, young men were par-
ticularly critical of the limits of these ideals in practice. They know
that some people are more equal than others, and that Latinos often

132 | L at i n o s as “ Re a l ” A m e ri c a n s
hold the short end of the stick. These youths— and particularly young
men— insert race into an equation that results in greater disadvantage
for Latinos. Pablo, a sixteen- year- old second- generation student who
identifies racially as Mexican American, cautions that the idea that “you
are treated equally and also like you have opportunities” is inconsistent
because these opportunities are “usually just [for] white people. African
Americans too. . . . Probably us too, but not as much.” Pablo sees a hier-
archy of opportunity, with whites reaping the perks, African Americans
enjoying some benefits, and Latinos getting the crumbs. More poignant
is the view espoused by Jesús, a twenty- one- year- old second- generation
Mexican who identifies racially as Latino. He sees “empty promises . . .
because you’re led to believe that if you work hard that you can become
anything you want. It’s a lie. You can work as hard as you want here, get
treated unfairly, and never be able to get the things you want because
of the racist system here.” Jesús’s scathing critique of the broken and
unfulfilled promise of the American dream is also raised by Javier, who
earlier denounced the notion of the American melting pot as a fallacy.
Javier explains that “American to me means opportunities at your own
risk.  .  .  . Well, I think a lot of people, including myself and my fam-
ily, thought of America as the land of the free, but we soon found out
that there is a lot of discrimination that comes with it. There are really
hard times here. I guess in the grand scheme of things, we are better off
here, but let me tell you, it wasn’t easy.” These young men’s narratives—
including Javier’s— do not deny that there are more opportunities in the
United States, but they point to what they see as a rigged system that
favors particular racial groups. As Javier’s account shows, discrimina-
tion makes the American dream harder to pursue and impossible to
achieve. While these young men praise the ideals of opportunity, they
know that in practice these are not distributed equally, and that whites
receive a disproportionate share of opportunities. For them, being less
than equal within the racial order contributes to their feelings of being
less American.
Many Latino millennials also subscribe to American ideals of civic
republicanism by emphasizing the tropes of social responsibility and the
common good— and in particular their patriotism. Although there were
no discernible gender or educational differences, most youths who de-
ployed the patriotic trope identify racially as Latinos or Hispanics. These

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youths believe that the qualifying characteristic of American is the will-
ingness to contribute to society. This point was stressed by Elianna, a
twenty- year- old second- generation Mexican who identifies racially as
Hispanic, who thinks that an American is “someone who provides for
this country. That gives the country revenue. That helps the country
continue because that’s kind of what all Americans do. They pay taxes.
They’re contributing to society and to the growth of our nation, and I
feel like someone who does that is in my opinion considered American
because they’re doing all that they can for this country, and no matter
whether they agree with their morals or whatever it is, they essentially
are giving something to this country, and that’s what’s important.” No-
tice that Elianna uses action verbs such as “provides,” “gives,” “helps,”
“contributing,” and “doing” to emphasize a generalized sense— and ac-
tive fulfillment— of duties and responsibilities that she believes are the
trademarks of Americanness.
Among these duties, these youths include knowing about Ameri-
can culture and history. For Juan, a twenty- three- year- old second-
generation Cuban who identifies as Latino, “it’s about being raised here
and knowing the American culture.” The importance of understanding
what American stands for was shared by Amanda, a twenty- two- year-
old second- generation Mexican Polish who identifies as Hispanic, who
states, “I honestly think that being American means not only being a
citizen but actually understanding where America came from and what
it stands for today. . . . I love the fact that I am an American. The diver-
sity and freedom of our nation brings people together, and I love being a
part of it.” Nick, a nineteen- year- old third- generation Cuban who iden-
tifies as Hispanic, sums up this feeling when he says that American is
“someone who devotes their life and everything they do to this country,
not just the fact that they were born here. . . . I feel I’m an American. I
pay my taxes just like everyone else in this country, so I should deserve
all the same rights and privileges that everyone deserves.” In saying that
he “should deserve all the same rights and privileges,” Nick is implying
that despite contributing to society, he does not get his fair share.
Another way in which concern with the common good is manifested
is in having pride in and love for the country. As David, a twenty- four-
year- old second- generation man who identifies racially as Mexican,
sums up, an American is “someone who is a U.S. citizen and loves the

134 | L at i n o s as “ Re a l ” A m e ri c a n s
U.S.A.” Likewise, Sally, a twenty- two- year- old second- generation Mexi-
can Albanian who identifies as Latina, said that being American “just
means having pride for the country you live in. You know even if you
come from somewhere else, as long as you’re here, you know you have
pride for being an American.” More poignant is a comment by Rick,
a twenty- year- old third- generation Mexican who identifies racially as
white Hispanic and believes that being an American is about loving and
defending the country. Rick believes that “American means someone
that is proud to be from the U.S. and shows this pride when necessary.
They do what they are supposed to in terms of being American. . . . All
those that are proud of the U.S. and are from the U.S. I think that any-
body can be an American if they believe they are and if they have their
citizenship, and perform their duties to our country. . . . I fit in because I
am proud. I am American. I am not scared to show my pride, even when
many others have things against America.” For Rick, standing by your
country “even when many others have things against America” proves
that you are American. These youths contrast their love for the coun-
try by pointing to others’ hollow patriotism. Jasmine, a twenty- three-
year- old third- generation Puerto Rican who identifies as human, says,
“When I think of American, I think of those who are straight up like rid-
ing down the street with their American flags and have no idea what it
is. They don’t care. They have so much pride in it.” As Jasmine cautions,
patriotism is not about flying the flag and cannot exist without having a
full understanding of its meaning.
These narratives show that Latino millennials often imagine them-
selves as being more American than those who fit the American ethnora-
cial ideal. These youths recognize that they may not fit the ethnoracial
profile, but their values and actions align with other American ideals.
Saúl, a twenty- five- year- old second- generation Mexican who identifies
as Hispanic, brings together the tropes of patriotism, freedom, oppor-
tunity, and social responsibility that Latinos called on when asserting
their Americanness:
American means a few things. American is a term that can be used for
someone that is born here. American is when you are proud to call the
United States your home. American is the belief in the many great people
of all types of races, color, gender, and beliefs that make this country not

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perfect but great. American is a sense of pride and even though we may
not like what our leaders chose for us, we, the people who make this
country, do have a good heart. American is believing in the people and
the American dream and doing your part to make your dream a reality.
People who want to help this country prosper by doing good. . . . I am
American because I love what we are supposed to stand for. I was born
here. I know there is a lot of good in this country, unfortunately, a few
ignorant and powerful people give us a bad name and they make us look
bad. I believe in the American dream because I am still attending school
and will God willing achieve my goal soon.
Like Saúl, Dave, a twenty- two- year- old third- generation Puerto Rican
who was the only participant to identify ethnically and racially as
American, brings together the tropes of freedom, patriotism, opportu-
nity, and responsibilities when he says, “I think [American] means that
you have freedom, patriotism, things of that nature. . . . I think anyone
who has lived here for a long time should be considered an American.
Someone who contributes to society in some way. Whether it is helping
someone out, or just doing their job in the world. You work hard. If you
were here for most of your life, I would say that you’re an American.”
Despite deploying these tropes, for these youths, it is the mere fact
of living in the United States that should make one American. Using
these tropes, Latino millennials then seek to insert themselves into the
national group. Although some dabble with a critique of a rigged sys-
tem that favors whites while still asserting their belonging, others offer
a more critical reading on what it means to be an American by offering
counternarratives on belonging.
Counternarratives on Belonging
In addition to engaging in narratives that reassert their Americanness
through their birthright citizenship and their shared American ideals
of liberalism and civic republicanism, Latino millennials deploy coun-
ternarratives using the incorporationism trope of multiculturalism
and the trope of intercontinentalism to contest the limited meaning of
Americanness. Most of the youths who engaged with the trope of multi-
culturalism identified racially as Latino or Hispanic, and there were no

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noticeable gender or educational differences. Just as some of the youths
quoted in the previous section saw themselves as more worthy and
deserving than those who take their Americanness for granted, these
youths think that they embody Americanness more than white Ameri-
cans because they are both American and Latino.
Deploying the multiculturalism trope, these millennials turn the
ethnoracial ideal of the white Anglo- Saxon Protestant American on its
head. Santos, a seventeen- year- old second- generation Mexican who
identifies racially as Latino, points to the multicultural nature of the na-
tion when he says that “the United States of America to me means like
the whole world because it’s like all kinds of races [that] live in America.”
Although Laura stated earlier that “America is your opportunity,” she
also speaks to the contradiction of a multicultural nation where the na-
tional subject continues to be imagined as white. She says, “An American
is like anyone who lives here basically, but most importantly it’s like mul-
ticultural because like sometimes people think American is like white,
you know, ‘those [whites] are Americans.’ But in reality it’s like anyone
who lives here and has the opportunity to live like we do is American.”
Sally previously defined American as having “pride for the country,” but
she also recognizes the inconsistency between the American trope of
multiculturalism and the persistent ethnoracial ideal that narrows the
definition of American:
I speak English, I eat burgers, I eat fries. I celebrate Independence Day.
I see, like, summer, some guy on a beach, cooking with a little grill you
know. Shorts and sandals, blasting some oldies station or something. I
mean, I guess you know someone who has been surrounded by the cul-
ture so much that they don’t even know anything other than that. Like
they don’t associate anything with Latin culture or black culture and [they
are] kind of just stuck in their ways. . . . I mean, I don’t, I dunno. I feel like
I’m an American ’cause I was born here and I celebrate the holidays, but I
have a more diverse understanding of other cultures.
Sally is aware that the prevalent image of the American (a white middle-
aged male) looks nothing like her, yet unlike this image, she embodies
multiculturalism: her Americanization is implied by cultural mark-
ers (English, burgers and fries, and Independence day), while her

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multiculturalism comes through in her “more diverse understanding of
other cultures.”
Like Sally, given their multicultural background, these youths feel
that they— more than the prototypical American— embody Ameri-
canness. Christine, an eighteen- year- old second- generation Mexican
who identifies racially as Hispanic, exclaims, “America is made up of
so many different cultures, it’s kind of like everyone. Anyone can be an
American. . . . There’s different languages, even though it’s not accepted.
[It is] just generally multicultural  .  .  . because everybody is mixed.
Everyone is different. There’s not one [single type of ] American. I’m
multicultural. I grew up here in Chicago, and I know Chinese, Korean,
Japanese, Italian, black people. I know people of different races and
interact with them. We’re all multicultural. I’m multicultural.” Chris-
tine feels that she embodies Americanness not only because she is both
Mexican and American but also because she interacts with and under-
stands people from different ethnic and racial backgrounds. Similarly,
Bibiana, a twenty- year- old second- generation Mexican who identifies
racially as Hispanic, says, “I think being American is just that you can
assimilate into your society and reach out to people of all cultures, not
just your own.”
Here, embodying Americanness is about these millennials’ un-
derstanding of other cultures. Octavio, a twenty- year- old second-
generation Mexican who identifies racially as Hispanic, states, “For me,
being a true American is accepting other cultures. Because that’s what
America is when you think about it. It’s a big melting pot. And we are
all the same, trying to achieve the same dream.” This sentiment was also
expressed by Eric, a twenty- one- year- old third- generation Brazilian
Puerto Rican who identifies racially as Puerto Rican and who says that
American “means to have citizenship in the U.S. and to be able to un-
derstand mainstream American culture or any other aspect of American
culture because America has many different cultures of its own within
its society. I feel an American is anyone who feels that America is their
home regardless of any other such factors. I am an American, and my
girlfriend is an American, but we both follow extremely different cul-
tures in American culture alone. But I feel she is my equal, and we are
both equally American. There is nothing wrong with this.” While, as a
Latino, Eric does not fit the ethnoracial ideal, his embodiment of multi-

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culturalism is what makes him “equally American” and on a par with his
white— and legitimately American— girlfriend.
Aside from using the term “multiculturalism,” I found that a surpris-
ingly large number of Latino millennials engaged in a counternarrative
that denounces the appropriation of the term “American” by emphasiz-
ing its broader intercontinental meaning. My analysis shows that the
youths who use this counternarrative tend to be college students or col-
lege graduates, but most notably, these are the youths who identified
racially as human. Although initially I dismissed the “human” answer
to the race question as frivolous, it took on a significant meaning when
paired with these millennials’ critique of the term “American.” In their
refusal to choose a race— or at least their reluctance to engage with racial
or ethnic terminology— they voice a more profound critique of exclu-
sion and marginality.
To these youths, the term “American” does not apply solely to people
from the United States. They argue that “American” refers to anyone who
lives in the Americas— North, Central, or South. Jacques, a twenty- nine-
year- old second- generation man who identifies ethnically and racially
as Mexican French biracial, states, “To me American is anyone born
within either the North or South American continents. I do not con-
sider U.S. citizens to be the only Americans in existence. There is North
America and South America, and all those who reside in its countries in
my opinion are considered to be Americans. . . . I am American, I was
born, raised, and live in the North American continent.” For Jacques,
American refers to people from North and South America.
In addition to applying the term “American” to all people in the
American continents, these youths also denounced what they view as
the appropriation of this term by the United States. Teresa, a twenty-
one- year- old second- generation Mexican Argentinian who identifies
racially as human, plays out this counternarrative when she states that
“‘American’ is just a term that white people made up to define who they
are by where they live. . . . [But American is really] anyone that lives in
the Americas. . . . I am an American because I live in this continent.”
Once again, Manuel explains his reluctance to identify as American
when he provides what he believes is the more accurate definition of
American (someone from the Americas), with the popular definition

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as someone from the United States. To Manuel, American means the
following:
Born in the Americas. Yeah, that’s how it should be defined, but I guess
how it is defined is someone born in the United States. But American, Bo-
livians are Americans, and Central Americans and Canadians are Ameri-
cans. If you want to get specific, I guess we’re talking people from the
United States. Do you want me to define it culturally? It’s like European,
you know. It’s all- encompassing, but here we’ve made it specific. I guess
someone from the United States with that definition that we use, this
continent and this country, then an American would be someone from
the United States.
Manuel denounces the territorial and cultural definition that limits
American to the United States, while espousing American as an inter-
continental identity that includes the inhabitants of North, Central, and
South America.
These youths also trace the appropriation of the term “American”
and its adoption as a national identity by the United States. Michael,
a twenty- seven- year- old third- generation Puerto Rican who identifies
racially as human, gives the benefit of the doubt rather than accusing
the United States of intentionally appropriating the term “American”:
The whole Western Hemisphere is American, right? It’s North and South
America. So anybody on the North and South American continents is
American. The thing about the United States, though, is that since the
United States was the first country to get their independence, the people
within the United States are considered “the Americans.” I don’t think it
is necessarily the Americans’ fault, or the United States citizens’ fault. It
was just that the United States was a country that came to world power,
and it was the greatest world power in the Western Hemisphere, and for
a long time for the rest of the world. So, they represented the Western
Hemisphere. They represented the Americas. That’s why they’re called
the Americans. I don’t think at any point in the United States history they
said, “Look, we’re the Americans and they are not,” necessarily. I think
now people view it that way, and I think the rest of the world views the

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United States as the Americans because of the statement that they made
throughout history.
For Michael, the designation of the term “American” as a U.S. national
identity is more of a historical accident than an intentional appropria-
tion. He believes that Mexicans and Canadians also “deserve the name
American just like people from the United States do. I don’t think the
people of the United States really did anything more than anybody
else to deserve specifically just them the term ‘American.’ We’re all
Americans because we’re all in a continent of America.” Yet he hesitates
to call himself American because “I don’t know where I fit. It’s a ques-
tion I’ve been asking myself. But if I had to choose an answer, I’d say I’m
an American because I was born in an American continent. I’m not an
American because I was born in the United States.” Not fitting into the
American ethnoracial ideal, Michael then subscribes to a more inter-
continental meaning of American rather than to the national definition.
Whereas Michael gives the United States the benefit of the doubt,
many other Latino millennials are less forgiving and plainly say that the
United States appropriated the term “American.” Giving a historical les-
son, Raúl, who had previously paired American with the ethnoracial
ideal, goes on to explain how the United States usurped the term “Amer-
ican” for national identity:
Well, American is just someone who’s born within this country which
is called America which was, you know, illegally constructed and estab-
lished by British men. And it was named after Amerigo Vespucci, which
people have thought the he was the first explorer here. Explorer, again,
in quotes, but actually intruder. And they named it after him. From there
on, I think by considering oneself American, or— yes, it’s a nationality,
but it is also, considering the indigenous people who live here, it’s almost
an insult and an affront to their history within this land, because it was a
term that was made by Caucasian, by white people, and you know, it was
just named America. It completely disregarded other people who were
living here. And so that is almost like sanctioning the theft of this land,
its resources and subjugation of the indigenous people who are here. So
I think that’s the real historical and social consequences that I guess the
term “American” can be.

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For Raúl, the United States not only illegally stole the land from the
indigenous inhabitants but also misappropriated the term “American.”
A few youths say that they refuse to use the term “American” to define
people from the United States and instead propose what they believe are
more suitable terms. Dolores, a twenty- eight- year- old fourth- generation
Mexican who identifies racially as Hispanic white, says that she uses the
expression “from the United States” rather than “American”:
I’ve struggled with that term for a while and I feel like, I don’t like when
it’s used, I don’t know what other term could be used. In Spanish we have
more options because you can say, you know, from the United States,
rather than American. Because I strictly like to use that term [from the
United States] because “American” can refer to anybody from Mexico,
Central America, South America. Even Canada if you want to. So I think
it refers to a continent and to the whole Western Hemisphere almost,
you know. So I feel like, I don’t generally use that term. . . . If I defined it,
American is . . . somebody from the United States even though I rather
not use it because I don’t like that it can be seen as disrespectful to other
people who are from South America, Central America. I guess somebody
from the United States, I would just, you have to be very careful with that
term and I tend to rarely use it.
Although Dolores recognizes that “American” is used colloquially to
refer to U.S. national identity, she avoids using it because it represents a
slight to other North, Central, and South Americans.
Two other youths made up new labels to refer to people from the
United States. For instance, Carlos, a twenty- four- year- old second-
generation Mexican Guatemalan who identifies his race as white, came
up with the term “USAnian.” He explains, “To me personally, it would
be someone who comes from any of the Americas, really. I mean, I know
what people are trying to say when they say ‘American,’ but ever since
I was little, I always pictured it like that. Ever since my senior year of
high school, if I wanted to identify someone from the United States I
would say ‘USAnian,’ you know? And yes, it included me . . . so, if you
want to relate it more to the social side, to me it is people who are here
in the United States.” Because he believes this use of “American” to be
a misappropriation, Carlos prefers to use an intercontinental definition

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of “American” and designate people from the United States by other
terms— such as “USAnian.” Providing a more scathing critique of the
appropriation of the term “American” by the United States, Cathy, a
twenty- year- old second- generation Mexican who identifies her race as
human, favors the term “United Statesian.” As she explains:
The term “American” is an egotistical claim to nationalism by United
States citizens. . . . America stretches from the northernmost point in
Canada to the southernmost point of Chile. That’s why the areas are
North, Central, and South America. Anyone that lives within those bor-
ders is American. This is because the United States does not have a name.
Consider that Mexico is actually the United States of the Mexican Repub-
lic. China is the Republic of China. . . . The United States of America is
simply a statement. That’s why earlier I said I’m Mexican United Statesian.
I know it doesn’t have the same ring to it, but maybe this country should
get a name. . . . By the way, I’m also in the process of acquiring double
citizenship with Mexico; therefore, I’ll be twice as American as people
that were simply born in the U.S.
For Cathy, the adoption of American as a national identity is an inten-
tional misappropriation by the United States. She argues that U.S.
nationals should be called “United Statesian.” That she is a U.S. national
of Mexican descent who has the intention of seeking Mexican citizen-
ship makes her more American than people who are just born in the
United States. Other Latino millennials shared this sense that their Latin
American ancestry makes them more American than people who can-
not trace their ancestry to the Americas.
Realizing that others view the designation of U.S. nationals as Ameri-
cans as an illegitimate appropriation, Orlando, a twenty- two- year- old
second- generation Mexican who identifies racially as white, infuses his
answers with historical facts. His narrative shows the shifting meaning
of “American” when these youths encounter challenging discourses:
When I hear the term “American,” I think of pretty much— when I was
young, I thought of a white person. But as I grew older, I considered my-
self American, Mexican American, as American pertains to someone or
a citizen living in the United States. But when I went abroad, I mentioned

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America. I went to Venezuela. They considered themselves American.
Living on the American continent, which I never thought of it that way.
They started referring to me as a North American, which is kind of weird.
When I mentioned America down there, they’re all [like], “Oh, you’re
talking about us as well.” It was weird. I never thought about it that way,
America [not as in] North America, but as in North, South, Central. Even
still to this day, I can’t catch on to that. I feel that an American is someone
living in the United States.
Orlando’s narrative shows that the meaning of American shifts over time
and across settings. As a child he held to an ethnoracial definition of
American that, as he aged, shifted to birthright. New experiences, such
as travel abroad, brings these millennials face- to- face with others who
contest the U.S. appropriation of the term “American.” Whereas youths
like Carlos and Cathy have developed a critical stance toward the term,
Orlando, although he is aware of these critiques, ultimately claims a
more colloquial definition of “American” based on being a U.S. national,
perhaps as a way to fit in the American imagined community.
Developing an Integrated Subjectivity
At the beginning of this chapter, Manuel states without hesitation that
he is a citizen but that being an American is “up for discussion.” In his
ensuing narrative, Manuel sheds light on why he says this, beginning by
explaining that he had a “traditional” American childhood filled with
music, sports, and holidays and “doing American kid things.” According
to Manuel, “I grew up listening to punk rock, rock and roll and drink-
ing PBR. Like, you know what I mean? Like doing American kid things.
Like football and playing pee wee baseball. So I think in that traditional
sense. Fourth of July barbeques.” Yet he acknowledges that his was not
the typical American childhood as his family blended American with
Mexican traditions:
Definitely, but it’s not in that rigid like mold that we have of Americans.
It’s like, for example, we had Thanksgiving at my mom’s house. My par-
ents had turkey. We had ham, yams. We had mashed potatoes, gravy. Like
that’s something you consider typical United States of America food. You

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know? But then for Christmas we had tamales, pozole, and like all these
Mexican foods. So there’s instances where we’ll have barbeque and it is
hot dogs and brats and burgers, and then another one where there’s carne
asada [steak] and goat meat. I guess it’s a combination of both so it’s my
own Americanism.
This blending of cultures leads to what Manuel calls his “own
Americanism.” He adds that “in this country it’s like you need an inter-
preter. You’re not WASP so it’s like this in- between. It’s like I’m not
Mexican [but] I’m not complete[ly] American so it’s like I said I’m this
multicultural. Like hybrid, you know, with two cultures.” Manuel sees
himself as a “hybrid” because he is made of two cultures, and it is this
combination that makes his “own Americanism,” that is, his own brand
of American. He does not see himself as an American in the conventional
way, at least “not in that rigid like mold that we have of Americans.” He
is a different kind of American, but an American nevertheless.
Like Manuel, Latino millennials point to their “ethnic” upbringing
at home while being socialized as “Americans” via growing up in the
United States. That is, these youths see themselves as both American and
ethnic, and to them, there is no conflict between these identities. They
think of themselves are neither just American nor just ethnic but as both
simultaneously. Thus, their own form of Americanism, as Manuel calls
it, involves both identities— a blend of American and Latin American
cultures. In other words, these youths develop what Benmayor (2002)
calls an integrated subjectivity that brings together both cultures and
results in an American national identity that coexists with their eth-
nic identification. As Jessica, a twenty- four- year- old second- generation
woman who identifies racially as Mexican, succinctly puts it, “Well I’m
Mexican, but I’m also an American.” I found that an integrated subjec-
tivity was widespread among the Latino millennials in the study and
that there were no discernible factors (such as gender, educational level,
racial identification, or form of contestation) linked to the development
of an integrated subjectivity. Regardless of the form of contestation these
youths engaged in, they were all likely to form an integrated subjectivity.
For Latino millennials, being American and being ethnic are separate
identities that complement and exist alongside each other: American is
their national identity, while their specific national group is their eth-

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nic identity. Edwin, a twenty- eight- year- old second- generation Mexi-
can who identifies racially as Hispanic, explains that being American
“means that you were born in this country. I’m Mexican, but I’m Ameri-
can too because I was born here. But I don’t consider American an eth-
nicity. That’s why I say I’m Mexican. . . . Well, I’m American because I
was born here. I am legal, but I’m still Mexican.” As Edwin states, Ameri-
can is his national identity derived from his U.S. birth, while Mexican
is his ethnic identity that comes from his family’s origin. This feeling of
duality is exemplified by Cynthia, a twenty- year- old second- generation
Mexican who refused to answer the race questions, when she states that
her parents are “Mexican because they grew up there. . . . I guess I’m
Mexican through them, but I’m also American because I literally grew
up here and it’s my country, my home.”
Growing up with both cultures allows these youths to develop what
Silvestrini (1997) calls a fluid sense of self that permits movement be-
tween these two worlds. Laura’s earlier statement about the United States
as the land of opportunity can be seen in a new light when she says that
her family incorporated American and Mexican cultures into their fam-
ily traditions. She explains, “My family did adopt like the Fourth of July,
you know, we don’t celebrate that in Mexico, but we do like celebrate hol-
idays that they typically don’t in Mexico. So we intertwine them because
we know we live here and need to immerse ourselves in the culture. So,
I mean, my parents are U.S. citizens, but I consider them as separate,
but because we live here. We all are American because we live here and
have to celebrate their culture as well— so it’s our culture.” Although her
parents remain Mexicans despite their U.S. citizenship, Laura and her
siblings see both cultures as their own. Like Laura, many of these youths
are bicultural, easily shifting between one culture and the other.
Some youths use the term “Mexican American” to denote this duality.
Danny follows his earlier critique of “wannabe- white” Latinos by stating
that he considers himself American, but he quickly interjects that he is
Mexican American “mainly because I can relate to both places. I was
born and raised here, but my parents grew up over there, so I know their
culture, but I also know this culture.” Leo, a twenty- six- year- old second-
generation Mexican who identifies as Latino, also uses “Mexican Ameri-
can” to stress this duality when saying “I am Mexican American, though.
I am in touch with my American side and my Mexican side.” Despite

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being Puerto Rican, Mariely, a twenty- three- year- old third- generation
woman who identifies racially as Hispanic, also uses terms like “Mexi-
can American” to convey Americanization:
You have embraced the culture of this country which is a white culture
but still maintain a little bit of your own culture. Like Mexican Ameri-
can. . . . You adapted to the country you live in, becoming quote unquote
Americanized. Every legal citizen of this country is an American. How
can you not embrace the culture if you live here! You have adapted one
way or another. Either through school or education or language or some-
thing. Well, I was born here. So I know nothing but the American culture.
But I also know a little about my Puerto Rican traditions too.
As Mariely points out, it is impossible for Latino millennials to not also
be American because of their upbringing in the United States.
It is also inconceivable for Latino millennials to stop identifying with
their families’ ethnic backgrounds despite growing up in the United
States. Niurka, a twenty- two- year- old second- generation Dominican
who identifies racially as Latina, says, “I’m definitely an American. I’m
proud to be here, but I’m also Dominican and will not forget that.” This
sentiment is shared by Heriberto, a twenty- year- old second- generation
man who identifies ethnically as Hispanic and racially as Mexican, when
he states, “I am an American because I was born here. . . . I believe that
I am an American and always will be, but I never want to let go of my
Mexican heritage because although I was not born there, it is a huge
part of who I am.” Although these youths are both American and eth-
nic, their strongest attachment is to their ethnicity. This sentiment is
echoed by Giselle, a twenty- three- year- old second- generation Mexican
who identifies racially as other, Hispanic, and Latina. Giselle exclaims,
“I am not fully American. I mean, I know I consider myself Mexican
American. I speak the English language. I comply with values and laws
of the country and the state where I live in. With regard to attachment
or, having some bond with, I can’t say I have a, a strong bond [to being
American].” Like Giselle, these youths are American but they do not feel
as connected to that identity. Their ethnic bond is so strong that leaving
behind their ethnic identification is nonnegotiable. These youths insist
in their “own kind of Americanism”— and that is one that includes their

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ethnicity. Dolores revisits her previous question on the suitability of the
term “American” for people like her when she gives her own version of
an integrated subjectivity:
You asked me how I fit into that idea of American? . . . I fit into it as long
as I can maintain my ethnic identity with it, hand in hand at the same
time and not ascribe to a very limited homogeneous white idea of what
being American means. So as long as I can continue to embrace who I am
ethnically and culturally, then I feel like I can fit into American. But the
minute it begins to exclude or it creates an idea of who that can include,
then I don’t identify with it.
Dolores sees herself as an American when the term’s definition is not
limited to the ethnoracial ideal.
Because these identities are intertwined, it is hard for these youths to
fathom being just American or just Mexican. Julia, a seventeen- year- old
second- generation woman who identifies racially as Mexican, hangs on
to her ethnicity and is baffled by “people that just completely lose their
native language and just become American, and it strikes me as odd.”
Rather than selecting one or the other, these youths typically pick and
choose what makes them American and what makes them ethnic. Yuli, a
twenty- three- year- old Mexican who identifies racially as Hispanic, pre-
fers to identify as Mexican but recognizes that there is “a lot of American
in me.” Yuli says, “I think that even though I choose to identify myself
as solely Mexican, I have a lot of American in me [laughs]. Just based
on certain things that I’ve picked up from the American culture, such as
the whole independent thing. Being independent from my family, which
is highly frowned upon. I don’t know, I definitely think that I’ve picked
up some of the American culture but . . . I’ve generally been picking
and choosing from both cultures, which is sometimes problematic but
sometimes not.” Having two cultures gives Yuli the option of adopting
aspects of both cultures.
It is also difficult for these youths to come to terms with their Ameri-
can side. Priscilla, a twenty- six- year- old second- generation woman who
identifies racially as Mexican, only accepted her Americanness once she
realized that being Mexican does not make her any less American. Pris-
cilla explains, “I have had a lot of battles with that because only a year

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ago I accepted the American part of my ethnicity, so to be American
it means to live here, to grow up here, to have the experiences that any
other person that lives in this country could have. Mine has been slightly
different because I have had the Mexican culture and traditions, a part of
it, but that doesn’t make me any less American.” Again, Danny expresses
his struggle to reconcile his American and his Mexican identities be-
cause they are connected to different spaces and places. He says, “I guess
I’m Mexican American. I am torn between being American and being
Mexican. . . . I consider myself Mexican, but I’m still American. I par-
tially belong in certain places of the United States and certain places in
Mexico. . . . Well, certain neighborhoods like Pilsen and Mexican neigh-
borhoods are more accepting. . . . Well, because I’m Mexican, I don’t fit
in. They don’t see me as part of the country.” Although in general Danny
does not feel accepted, he finds solace in Mexican neighborhoods where
he feels that he fits in and where his own type of Americanism is recog-
nized and validated.
Constructing Their Own Americanism
My analysis suggests that rather than civic nationalism, the United
States is characterized by ethnoracial nationalism, in which race and/
or culture determines who belongs. Despite the inclusive rhetoric, it is
only those who are white, of European descent, and Christian who are
uncontestably American, while the Americanness of those who do not
meet the ethnoracial criteria is contested. Latino millennials’ narratives
show that their apparent disconnection from the American national
identity— reflected in their frequent reluctance to define themselves
as “real” Americans— is a direct response to their ethnoracial exclu-
sion from the American imaginary and is not based on the rejection of
American values. Growing up in the United States, these youths have
adopted American ideals, yet they cannot meet the ethnoracial criteria
because of their physical and/or cultural traits. It is this inability to meet
the racial and/or cultural criteria that stands in the way of being seen by
others— and of seeing themselves— as rightfully American.
In addition to their hesitation to identify as Americans, my analysis
shows that Latino millennials actively— and often vigorously— contest
the othering that negates their Americanness. They do so by stressing

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the ways in which they too are American— and often more American
than those doubting them. I found that gender, education, and racial
identification were the only intervening factors determining the type of
contestation that Latino millennials engaged in. While gender and edu-
cation seem to have a slight effect, racial identification largely shaped
the form of contestation that these youths followed. I also found that re-
gardless of their gender, educational level, and racial identification, these
youths were equally likely to develop a sense of themselves as Americans
that incorporated their dual subjectivity as Latinos and Americans.
By engaging in claims of ethnoracial citizenship, these youths develop
notions of belonging that challenge the dominant ethnoracial ideology
and allow them to locate themselves as authentic members of the Amer-
ican national community. To do so, they employ familiar American
tropes that emphasize how similar they are to fellow Americans. They
also deploy tropes that highlight the various ways in which they think
they are more American than those who fit the dominant ethnoracial
criteria. It is through the use of these familiar tropes that they offer a
counternarrative that not only challenges dominant notions of belong-
ing but also voices their demand for inclusion. They contest the white,
Anglo- Saxon, Protestant, heteronormative, and male ethnoracial foun-
dation of the national identity, push for a more inclusive society, and
insert themselves as legitimate members of American society (Flores
and Benmayor 1997). They develop an integrated subjectivity and gain a
“fluid sense of self ” that allows them to move— although not as easily—
between their multiple worlds while staking their claims to both (see
Silvestrini 1997). Pushing for their own Americanism— that is, setting
their own terms for becoming American— creates a crack at the door,
one that they will continue to pick at in their demand for inclusion in
the American national imaginary.

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6
Rethinking Race and Belonging among Latino Millennials
I began to conceptualize this book in the midst of a storm of racist social
media comments spurred by the performance of “The Star- Spangled
Banner” and “God Bless America” by Latino singers Sebastien De La
Cruz and Marc Anthony at two separate professional sporting events.
The fact that each of these singers is a U.S.- born citizen did not prevent
the launching of racist and xenophobic epithets such as “foreigner,” “ille-
gal alien,” “beaner,” and “spic.” Social media commentators described the
singers as non- American and thus unfit to perform such patriotic songs.
Twitter posts made no distinction between Mexicans and Puerto Ricans,
or citizens and undocumented immigrants. Sebastien De La Cruz was
again bashed on social media— this time for singing the national anthem
at a Democratic Party presidential debate. To these public reactions are
added those expressed by Donald Trump, who, running on an explicitly
nativist platform, was elected as U.S. president on the Republican ticket.
On the campaign trail, Trump used familiar tropes of crime, drug smug-
gling, “illegal” immigration, rape, and infectious disease to pounce on
Mexicans and, by extension, all Latinos. He also called into question
the integrity of U.S. district judge Gonzalo Curiel because his Mexican
ancestry, and presumed pro- immigrant stance, made him unfit to pre-
side on a case against Trump University. Trump vowed to eliminate the
birthright citizenship of so- called anchor babies— a pejorative term for
U.S.- born children of undocumented immigrants— and to build a wall
on the U.S.- Mexico border to stop the “illegal” flow of Mexicans. These
tropes are part of what Chavez (2013) calls the “Latino threat narrative.”
Trump’s inflammatory and racist rhetoric is worrisome for Latinos.
Young Latinos— including children, teenagers, and young adults— are
concerned about what will happen to them under Trump’s presidency.
Despite being U.S. citizens by birth, they wonder if they will be deported
or physically harmed. These fears are legitimate, as the day after the elec-
tion, there were reports of verbal and physical violence against Latinos

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and other groups that Trump had targeted during his campaign. More
worrisome for these youths is the escalation of detention and deporta-
tion of undocumented immigrants who do not have a criminal record.
These youths are aware that— just like Sebastien De La Cruz and Marc
Anthony— they signify “illegal” and “Mexican” regardless of their actual
legal status and national origin. The pervasiveness of these nativist ex-
pressions, and the realization that half of the electorate voted for presi-
dent someone who espouses such views conveys to these young Latinos
that they do not belong. These expressions also poignantly show that
U.S. citizenship does not wholly protect individuals of Latin American
descent from having their Americanness questioned or stripped. Within
this context of anti- Latino rhetoric, this new generation of Latinos is de-
veloping notions about their place in the American national landscape
and as I show in this book, many are challenging these nativist notions
and claiming their rightful place as Americans.
The narratives presented in this book show that vitriolic racist and na-
tivist discourses— such as those in social media and in Donald Trump’s
speeches— are far from exceptional. Combined with more subtle racial
microaggressions, anti- Latino rhetoric is a reality experienced by La-
tino millennials day in and out. New forms of racism in the post– civil
rights era mar the daily lives of Latinos and shape their sense of identity
and social positioning. Their stories attest to the persistence of spatial
segregation despite efforts to dismantle it. They narrate how their pres-
ence in white places and spaces often elicits reactions that peel away
their sense of belonging and leave them excluded from the American
imagined community.
In this book, I have shown that these youths’ exclusion has birthed
three interrelated subjectivities— Latinos as an ethnorace, a racial
middle, and “real” Americans. These subjectivities underscore La-
tino millennials’ reactions to their lack of a meaningful racial cat-
egory, an appropriate place in the racial hierarchy, and acceptance as
co- nationals, respectively. Using a social constructionist framework,
the preceding pages have examined how Latino millennials form these
self- understandings and imagine themselves as members of U.S. society.
I traced how race— as it is understood and enacted in everyday life—
shapes Latino millennials’ notions of belonging. In this conclusion, I
focus on two larger questions I have engaged throughout: How do La-

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tinos understand their place in the U.S. racial landscape? And what does
the Latino experience tell us about current developments in the U.S. racial
landscape? While the former contributes to the long- standing question
of Latinos’ fit into the larger American community, the latter furthers
our theoretical understandings of belonging in U.S. society.
Reframing the Theoretical Discourses on Latinos
One of the issues I address in this book revolves around Latinos’ self-
understandings of their ethnoracial categorization, position, and status
in U.S. society. By unraveling their narratives, I shed light on how they
identify racially, where they locate themselves in the racial hierarchy,
and how they understand themselves as Americans. The other issue that
I address in this book concerns scholarly formulations about Latinos’
place in the American national landscape. I contend that traditional
theoretical frameworks fall short when applied to Latinos, and that we
would be better served by a theoretical overhaul that could more accu-
rately position Latinos within the American imaginary. In particular, I
critique three established theoretical frameworks that in their current
iterations cannot adequately account for the ways in which Latino mil-
lennials understand themselves.
One of my main findings is that Latino millennials reject standard ra-
cial categories and favor ethnic and panethnic labels. Rather than iden-
tifying racially as white or black— standard categories that they feel do
not reflect their experiences and cultural backgrounds— these youths
inserted ethnic and panethnic designations as stand- ins for race. Spe-
cifically, they applied “Latino,” “Hispanic,” and national origin labels in
response to queries about their racial identification. These alternative
ways of identifying align with the “Some Other Race” category used in
the U.S. Census. These youths’ narratives underscore the inadequacy
of current racial options for people who have undergone a particular
form of racialization and are identifiable physically or culturally as part
of a separate social group. As their narratives show, these youths see
themselves and are seen by others as part of a distinct “social origin” or
ethnoracial group composed of people of Latin American origin.
Based on my analysis, I contend that Latino millennials’ racial iden-
tification poses a challenge to our current theorization about race in the

Ret h i n k i n g R ac e a n d B e l o n g i n g a m o n g L at i n o M i l l e n n ia l s | 153
United States. What Dowling (2014) calls the “question of race” among
Latinos points to the inconsistencies that characterize Latino racial
identification (what people say they are when they fill out forms) and
racial identity (what people actually believe they are). At the center of
this polemic is the sizable number of Latinos who— like the millennials
in this study— are dissatisfied with the existing racial categories and opt
out of them by marking SOR. My data expose the faulty assumption
that racial identification matches racial identity and suggest that racial
identification is often based on choosing the least ill- fitting category.
Underlying the “question of race” and racial mismatch among Latinos
is our flawed conceptualization of race and ethnicity as separate iden-
tity concepts. My analysis suggests that ethnorace may be a more fitting
concept with which to tackle the question of race among Latinos. Rather
than splitting race and ethnicity conceptually, ethnorace merges these
concepts and accounts for the roles that both race and ethnicity play in
how Latinos form self- understandings that allow them to negotiate their
position in the U.S. racial landscape.
My second major finding shows that these youths locate themselves
in a unique and separate position in the U.S. racial structure. By and
large, these youths conceive of a racial order structured by a color line
with whites at the top and blacks at the bottom. A few acquiesced to the
black and white racial divide by placing themselves on either side of the
color line, while some refused to play the game altogether by rejecting
the racial structure and refusing to specify a racial location. However,
the vast majority of the Latino millennials placed themselves in an inter-
mediate position in the racial hierarchy. These youths proclaimed that
they were “in the middle,” or “in between” whites and blacks. That is,
they thought of themselves as occupying a “racial middle.”
My analysis challenges current notions of the U.S. racial structure and
color line. Similar to the inaccuracy of substituting racial identification
for racial identity, it may be erroneous to use Latinos’ racial identifica-
tion as a proxy for racial location. Yet dominant discourses about the
U.S. racial structure do exactly that, building up to a faulty understand-
ing of the U.S. racial order and the position of Latinos in it. And while
triracial models— which posit Latinos as a racial middle— identify the
complexities of racial positioning in the United States, the racial middle
remains undertheorized. Building on Kim’s (1999) racial triangulation

154 | Ret h i n k i n g R ac e a n d B e l o n g i n g a m o n g L at i n o M i l l e n n ia l s
model, I have teased out the “racial middle” and shown that, rather
than a single catchall category, there are different middles that reflect
unique patterns of racialization along multiple dimensions. By claiming
the racial middle, Latino millennials vie for inclusion in the U.S. racial
structure.
My third main finding is that Latino millennials were reluctant to
identify as Americans. Their hesitation reflects a sense of not being “real
Americans” or being just a “different kind of American.” These youths’
narratives show that their disconnect from a national U.S. identity is
a reaction to their inability to meet its ethnoracial criteria. They are
aware that “American” signifies white Anglo- Saxon Protestant and that
they do not meet this standard. Against this, they make claims to a na-
tional identity by emphasizing their subscription to other “American”
tropes, such as freedom, opportunity, patriotism, and multiculturalism.
As such, they embrace a vision of civil nationalism in order to insert
themselves into the national imaginary and create a new vision of what
it means to be an American.
Based on my analysis, I expand on Rosaldo’s (1997) Latino cultural cit-
izenship framework. Although I find this framework useful, its empha-
sis on cultural difference as the leading source of exclusion overlooks the
significant role that race plays in Latino exclusion from national iden-
tity. Its corollary, Tsuda’s (2014) racial citizenship framework, downplays
culture while focusing on the impact of racial traits on exclusion from
national identity. Based on my findings, I propose a hybrid framework—
which I have labeled ethnoracial citizenship— to account for the cultural
and racial dimensions that shape how Latinos are defined as outsiders
of the national community and how they deploy counternarratives to
stake claims of belonging. In claiming their Americanness, these youths
deploy a counternarrative based on familiar American tropes that let
them define themselves as authentic Americans.
Latinos, Intersectionality, and Race Theorizing
Drawing on an intersectional approach, I looked for any signs of inter-
action effects. By deliberately making connections between social
categorizations such as gender, skin color, phenotype, class, and eth-
nicity, it became clear that certain combinations resulted in increased

Ret h i n k i n g R ac e a n d B e l o n g i n g a m o n g L at i n o M i l l e n n ia l s | 155
frequency, intensity, and forms of discrimination. Those who exhibited
any of the characteristics prone to elicit discrimination— such as being
a male, darker- skinned, phenotypically Latino, low- income, or a Span-
ish speaker— had increased chances of experiencing discrimination, but
when two or three of these characteristics combined, their odds magni-
fied. As a result, not all Latinos were affected by discrimination equally.
Although clear patterns emerged in the analysis that underscore the
effect of the intersecting social categorizations, I also found that among
Latinos interactional differences are a matter of degree rather than of
kind. Ultimately, the frequency, intensity, and type of racial experiences
may fluctuate according to a person’s characteristics, but the underlying
racial experiences remain largely consistent for all Latino millennials in
this study. Despite individual characteristics that may tone down nega-
tive racial experiences, no Latino is completely immune to discrimina-
tion. An intersectional approach therefore helps us better understand
why Latinos with different social characteristics often hold similar self-
understandings. My analysis shows that Latino millennials experience
discrimination regardless of their characteristics, but that the frequency,
intensity, and type of racial experiences vary. Those who were darker-
skinned tend to experience more frequent and intense discrimination,
which escalates if they are males and further increases among those
of lower socioeconomic status or those who speak Spanish in public.
We could then think of lighter skin color, female gender, higher social
class, and unaccented English as “protective factors” that mitigate the
frequency and intensity of certain types of discrimination but that do
not completely eliminate it. As I uncovered, Latin American ancestry
weighs heavily on Latino millennials’ racialization as minorities and
immigrants, regardless of the absence of visible markers. An intersec-
tional approach, then, provides a more complex lens for understanding
how these youths see themselves in relation to the racial and national
landscape. Future research should more deeply explore other forms of
intersectionality that may affect Latino millennials’ self- understandings.
Latino Millennials Matter
The Latino millennials whose narratives are presented in this book
conveyed the day- to- day racial experiences that erode their sense of

156 | Ret h i n k i n g R ac e a n d B e l o n g i n g a m o n g L at i n o M i l l e n n ia l s
belonging. Their stories tell of their struggle to reconcile their legitimate
status as Americans with the messages— in words and practices— they
receive every day that strip them of their Americanness. What will
result from the constant suspicion they face? And what effect will their
accompanying feelings of estrangement have on the social, economic,
and political life of this country? How will their experiences shape how
they engage as citizens?
It would be easy to disregard the stories told by Latino millennials as
developmental flukes prompted by their search for identity, or by the
wave of Latino immigrant activism preceding the interviews. It is plau-
sible that as they reach midadulthood, their views will temper. But with
the current escalation of anti- immigrant sentiment— which is particu-
larly directed at Mexicans— it is unlikely that Latino millennials’ sense of
estrangement from the national community will subside. In the current
political context, escalation of this sentiment looms as nativism plays
out in President Trump’s incendiary talk. The following narrative from
Diego, a twenty- two- year- old second- generation Mexican, is more rel-
evant today than it was when he told it in 2009:
You’re expected to assimilate, and if you don’t, then you’re outcasted. And
I think that reflects a lot of this wave of xenophobia that we have in this
country right now. Because a lot of people don’t want to let go of their
roots. Don’t want to let go of their culture. Don’t want to speak English.
They don’t want to completely assimilate, they want to hang on to what
they know, their traditions, their customs. . . . I would say English is im-
portant, but I don’t think that it should be so black and white. Either you
learn it and you become a citizen or you’re able to become part of this
country or society, or you don’t and you stay an outcast, in the shadows. I
don’t think it should be like that. . . . Maybe I’m not too American citizen
oriented [long silence]. The first thing that popped into my mind [when
thinking who is a citizen] was holding an American flag, a white man
holding an American flag screaming at me. Not sure why. Maybe to be
conservative, to be a Minuteman. To be xenophobic, to be against any
foreigner. . . . I mean, legally, technically, yes [I am a citizen]. But, I don’t
really feel like a citizen. . . . I don’t really feel like integrated. I don’t feel
proud to be living in this country. I don’t rep it. I won’t hold an Ameri-
can flag, unless it’s upside down. I’m serious, I won’t. And in a lot of the

Ret h i n k i n g R ac e a n d B e l o n g i n g a m o n g L at i n o M i l l e n n ia l s | 157
[immigrant rights] marches, a lot of the protests, a lot of people try to
give me flags, “Oh, here. Hold this. Here you go.” I just can’t do it. I don’t
know if that’s because I’m anti- American, you know, someone would la-
bel me anti- American, whatever. I think it’s— in order for me to really
be an American citizen and be proud of being one, I would want to feel
right, you know what I’m saying? I would want to feel like I have rights in
this country. . . . I feel like a lot of them are deprived or taken away at the
snap of a finger. I feel like they can be bent too. You have the right to re-
main silent. You know? It don’t even work like that sometimes, you don’t
even have rights a lot of times . . . [so] I’m not, I don’t think I am. I don’t
feel like a citizen. If anything, I can relate more to the undocumented
population than I can to the citizens. Maybe that’s because racially . . . it’s
kind of like an ideology, like us versus them. You know, the Americans
versus the undocumented or the illegals or the Mexicans. Maybe that, by
default, that places me on the other side. Or that places me on one side, so
it’s kind of like a battle . . . because a lot of this, a lot of this hate is because
people from the third world, people from Latin America, they’re not
considered citizens, they’re considered illegal aliens, you know. So, yeah,
that’s what it is, you know what I’m saying? Illegal aliens versus citizens.
In this riveting account, Diego narrates the internal struggle that La-
tino millennials wage daily in trying to reconcile what it means to be an
American of Latin American ancestry. As I read over his words, I am
transported to broad images of Donald Trump’s rallies and to his in-
flammatory rhetoric that cast Latinos, regardless of citizenship status, as
people who do not belong and who should be tossed out of the country.
Diego masterfully shows how this nation’s narrative cheats Latinos out
of a sense of national belonging, even though they are Americans. Like
Diego and the millennials I write about, today’s youths are aiming to
rewrite the national narrative on belonging— one in which American is
inclusive of racial and ethnic diversity.

159
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169
I n d e x
affirmative action, 46– 48
African Americans. See blacks
age, 19– 20; generations concept, 22– 26
Akresh, Ilana Redstone, 56
Alcoff, Linda Martin, 29, 57– 58, 60, 65,
79
alien status, 10– 11, 13– 14, 39, 117– 118, 157
American dream, 3, 129– 131, 132, 135,
137
American exceptionalism, 129
American Indians, 11, 29, 53, 101– 102
Americanness, 2, 6– 7, 39, 117– 149, 151,
156; civic nationalism ideals, 121,
125– 135, 154; civic republicanism,
118, 132– 133, 134– 135; contesting
ethnoracial ideals of, 120– 125, 148–
149; ethnoracial citizenship and, 30,
119– 121, 149, 154; freedom, 128– 129,
134– 135, 154; identity when outside
U.S., 123– 124; integrated subjectiv-
ity/redefinition of, 121, 143– 149;
intercontinentalism, 121, 135, 138– 143;
multiculturalism narratives, 121, 135–
138; patriotism, 132– 135, 154; social
mobility and, 25, 129– 131, 134– 135,
154; “true American” prototype, 118,
154; U.S. appropriation of, 138– 143.
See also citizenship; citizenship, by
birthright; Latinos as “real” Ameri-
cans; national identity
ancestry and parentage: African, 110– 111;
parents’ skin color, 77– 78, 86– 89, 106–
107, 116; self- identification based on, 6,
124– 125; state identification based on,
15; weight of Latin American ancestry,
60, 75– 78, 79, 110
Anderson, Benedict, 118
Anthony, Marc, 150
Aranda, Elizabeth, 58
Asians, 5, 43; Latinos mistaken for, 70– 71;
Latinos’ social distance from, 101– 102,
103, 104; racial binary and, 81
assimilation, 10, 54– 57, 56, 78, 115, 156;
mobility and, 25
baby boom generation, 24– 25
belonging, racial politics of, 2, 3, 32– 33,
44– 50; police and, 45– 46, 48– 49; in
public places, 44– 45; in school, 46– 47.
See also exclusion
Beltran, Cristina, 16
Benmayor, Rina, 119– 120, 144
birthright citizenship. See citizenship;
citizenship, by birthright
blacks: African ancestry, 110– 111; exclusion
of, 81; Latinos as racial middle, tilting
toward, 5, 85, 95– 96, 104, 109– 114,
116; Latinos mistaken for, 69– 70, 78;
Latinos’ social distance from, 101– 103;
racial binary and, 84, 86– 87, 91– 92;
racial hierarchy and, 80, 84– 85; shared
minority status with Latinos, 87– 88,
93– 94, 110; stereotypes, 108; visibility
and, 91– 92. See also whites
Bloemraad, Irene, 123, 125, 127
Bobo, Lawrence D., 8
Bonilla- Silva, Eduardo, 82, 85, 96
Border Patrol, 13

170 | I n d e x
Brokered Boundaries: Immigrant Identity
in Anti- immigrant Times (Massey and
Sanchez), 24
Brown, J. Scott, 56– 57
California, 13
Carbado, Devon, 12
Castles, Stephen, 10, 117– 118
Central America, 138, 139
Chavez, Leo, 150
Chicago, Illinois, 19– 22
citizenship, 6– 7; cultural, 119– 120, 154;
ethnoracial, 30, 119– 121, 149, 154;
exclusion despite, 41, 48, 61, 117– 118,
128; IRCA and, 25; naturalized, 127;
police questioning, 48– 49; as proof
of Americanness, 126– 128; racializa-
tion of, 10– 14, 48, 119– 120. See also
Americanness
citizenship, by birthright, 10, 126– 128, 135,
143; ethnoracial exclusion despite, 6,
41, 48, 118, 128; legislation, 13, 150
citizenship, ethnoracial. See American-
ness; ethnoracial categorization
civic nationalism, 121, 125– 135; civic
republicanism, 118, 132– 133, 133– 135;
freedom and, 128– 129, 134– 135, 154;
opportunity trope, 129– 132; patriotism,
132– 133, 154. See also Americanness
civic republicanism, 118, 132– 133, 134– 135
Cobas, Jose A., 35, 38, 40
Colombians, 20
color blindness, 32
Cruz, Sebastien De La, 150
Cubans, 20– 21
cultural attributes, 4; of Americans, 133;
Latinos as racial middle and, 92– 94;
multicultural narratives, 121, 135– 138;
racial politics of othering and, 39;
self- identification and, 92– 93, 145–
146
cultural citizenship, 119– 120, 154
Curiel, Gonzalo, 150
Danta, Ruby, 17
Davidson, Alastair, 10, 117– 118
Dávila, Arlene, 16
DeGenova, Nicholas, 21
deportations, 14, 150– 151
discrimination, 90, 92, 100, 107– 108; gen-
der and, 49– 50, 131– 132; intersectional-
ity and, 155; racial epithets, 41– 43, 45;
skin color and, 37– 38, 49– 50, 155
Dowling, Julie, 23, 53, 153
Duany, Jorge, 11
Dungy, Gwendolyn Jordan, 24
Ecuadorians, 20
education/school, 43– 44, 46– 47, 108, 149
Elder, Glen H., Jr., 56– 57
English language, 38, 40; Spanish lan-
guage, 4, 15, 38, 39– 40, 77
essentialization, 39– 40
ethnicity: defined, 29, 53– 54; self-
identification by, 51, 61– 62. See also
self- identification, panethnic
ethnoculturalism, 118
ethnoracial categorization, 2, 3– 4, 7, 51– 53,
57– 79, 151– 153; defined, 57; ethnicity
and race coupled, 60– 64, 79; ethnic-
ity and race split, 29, 53– 57; ethnora-
cial citizenship, 30, 119– 121, 149, 154;
ethnoracial ideal, 118– 119, 120– 125,
127, 131– 132, 148– 149; interchangeable
terminology of, 61– 63; Latino proto-
type, 60, 65– 74, 79; weight of Latin
American ancestry, 60, 75– 78, 79, 110.
See also self- identification, panethnic
exclusion, 30, 31– 32, 113, 118– 119; of blacks,
81; contesting, 120– 121, 125– 135, 148–
149; despite citizenship, 41, 48, 61,
117– 118, 128. See also belonging, racial
politics of
Feagin, Joe R., 35, 38, 40
Fernandez, Lilia, 20
Fox, Cybelle, 12, 109– 110

I n d e x | 171
Fraga, Luis, 17
Frank, Reanne, 56
Frankenberg, Ruth, 39
freedom, 128– 129, 134– 135, 154
gang surveillance, 43– 44, 45
Garcia, Lorena, 22
gender, 71– 72, 88– 89; American ethnora-
cial ideal and, 121, 131– 132, 149; dis-
crimination and, 49– 50, 131– 132; Pérez
study, 22; racial politics of othering
and, 43– 44; racial politics of visibility
and, 34
generations, concept defined, 22– 26
Generations of Exclusion: Mexican Ameri-
cans, Assimilation, and Race (Telles
and Ortiz), 23
Generation X, 25
geography of racial politics, 29, 31– 50;
belonging and, 32– 33, 44– 50; exclusion
and, 31– 32; othering and, 32– 33, 39– 44,
49– 50; trespassing, sense of, 32, 34; vis-
ibility and, 32– 39, 49– 50, 91– 92
Goldberg, David Theo, 57
Guatemalans, 20
Guglielmo, Thomas, 12, 109– 110
Hitlin, Steven, 56– 57
Hispanic/Latino category, 15– 19,
52– 55, 58– 59, 61– 62. See also self-
identification, panethnic
Hollinger, David, 57
Homeland Security Act (2002), 26
Huntington, Samuel, 14
hypervisibility, 33– 34; affirmative action
and, 46– 48; gang surveillance, 43– 44,
45; language use, 38– 39; racial politics
of othering and, 40– 41, 43. See also
invisibility; visibility, racial politics of
identification, racial/ethnic of Latinos by
others: ancestry and parentage and, 15;
based on physical characteristics, 66–
74; gender and, 71– 72; mistaken, 66– 72,
75, 76, 78; weight of Latin American
ancestry and, 60, 75– 78, 79, 110; “what
are you” question, 61, 63, 68, 73; while
outside U.S., 123– 124. See also Latinos as
racial middle; self- identification; self-
identification, panethnic
identity, racial categories of, 4
Illegal Immigration Reform and Immi-
grant Responsibility Act (IIRIRA), 25
immigration, 41; American ethnoracial
ideal and, 123, 127
Immigration Reform and Control Act
(IRCA), 25
immigration status and legality, 7, 13– 14,
26; American ethnoracial ideal and,
127; “anchor babies,” 13, 150; belonging
and, 48– 49; othering and, 41, 42– 43;
racial epithets and, 42– 43
incorporationism, 118
indigenous category, 58
integrated subjectivity, 121, 143– 149
intercontinentalism, 121, 135, 138– 143
intersectionality, 9– 10, 155
interview methods and participants, 26– 28
invisibility, 29, 33, 34– 37, 60; language use,
38– 39; of racial middle category, 91– 92;
in schools, 43. See also hypervisibility;
visibility, racial politics of
IRCA (Immigration Reform and Control
Act), 25
Italians, 71– 72
Jim Crow era, 8, 32
Jiménez, Tomás R., 23, 77– 78
jobs and employment: affirmative action
and, 46– 48; treatment during inter-
views, 37
Kim, Claire Jean, 82– 83, 101, 115, 153– 154
language, 18, 38– 40; Spanish, 4, 15, 38,
39– 40, 77

172 | I n d e x
Latinidad, 17, 21– 22
Latino Ethnic Consciousness (Padilla), 21
Latino/Hispanic category, 15– 19,
52– 55, 58– 59, 61– 62. See also self-
identification, panethnic
Latino millennials, defined, 1– 2
Latino prototype, 60, 65– 74; mistaken
identity and, 66– 73
Latinos as ethnorace. See ethnoracial
categorization
Latinos as racial middle, 2– 6, 7, 30, 80–
116, 151; “brown” category, 94– 98, 101;
catchall tier vs. multiple categories,
29, 82, 85, 95, 115, 154; “gray” cat-
egory, 94– 95, 99– 101, 105; “honorary
whites” category, 81– 82, 96; “neither”
category, 89– 90, 94, 153; privilege
and, 108– 109; racial binary rejected,
80– 81, 83– 84, 89– 94, 152; racial
binary reluctantly embraced, 85– 89;
social distance and, 101– 104, 106, 114;
solid self- identification in middle,
96– 104, 116, 153; tilting toward black,
5, 85, 95– 96, 104, 109– 114, 116; tilt-
ing toward white, 5, 85, 95– 96, 104,
105– 109, 116. See also identification,
racial/ethnic of Latinos by others;
self- identification; self- identification,
panethnic
Latinos as “real” Americans. See Ameri-
canness; citizenship
Legacies: The Story of the Immigrant Sec-
ond Generation (Portes and Rumbaut),
23
liberalism, 118, 126, 128
Lipsitz, George, 32, 39
López, Nancy, 131
Lu, Bo, 56
Making Hispanics (Mora), 15
Massey, Douglas, 24
Mexican (term), 52, 66– 68
Mexican American (term), 6, 145– 146
Mexican Americans across Generations:
Immigrant Families, Racial Realities
(Vasquez), 23
Mexican Americans and the Race Question
(Dowling), 23
Mexican American self- identification.
See self- identification, as Mexican
American
Mexican(s), 11– 12, 14; being mistaken for,
66– 69; in Chicago, 20– 22
Middle Easterners, 5, 73, 102
millennials, defined, 1– 2, 24
mixed- race people, 77– 78
mobility, 25, 129– 131, 134– 135, 154
Molina, Natalia, 13
Mora, Cristina, 15
multicultural narratives, 121, 135– 138
Munoz, Carlos, 23– 24
national identity, 6– 7; ethnoracial
categorization and, 61– 62; integrated
subjectivity and, 121, 143– 149; physical
characteristics and, 1; racialization of,
10– 14. See also Americanness
Native American identity, 70
nativity, as identity predictor, 18. See also
citizenship, by birthright
Ngai, Mae M., 10– 11, 39, 117– 118
Obama, Barack, 14, 26
Omi, Michael, 8
opportunity trope, 129– 132; American
dream, 3, 129– 131, 132, 135, 137
Ortiz, Vilma, 23, 78
othering, racial politics of, 8, 9, 29, 32– 33,
39– 44, 49– 50; essentialization and,
39– 40; Hispanic/Latino category and,
15– 19; hypervisibility and, 40– 41, 43;
racial epithets and, 41– 43; in schools,
43– 44
Padilla, Elena, 21
Padilla, Felix, 21

I n d e x | 173
panethnicity. See self- identification,
panethnic
parents. See ancestry and parentage
patriotism, 132– 135, 154. See also Ameri-
canness; civic nationalism
Pérez, Gina, 22
Pew Hispanic Center, 19
Pew Research Center, 57
phenotype, 7, 68, 154; mistaken identity
and, 70, 76; race definition and, 55, 56,
116; racial binary and, 90– 91; self-
identification and, 29, 58, 90, 95, 105,
110. See also skin color
physical characteristics, 1; gender and, 71–
72; identification by others based on,
66– 74; Latino prototype and, 65– 74;
othering and, 39– 40; racial binary and,
84, 90– 91. See also skin color
Pierce, Chester M., 8
police, treatment by, 45– 46, 48– 49
population and demographic statistics, 1,
15– 19; of Latinos in Chicago, 19– 20; of
millennial generation, 24
Portes, Alejandro, 23
Prewitt, Kenneth, 56
Proposition 187 (California), 13
public transportation, 35
Puerto Ricans, 110– 111; in Chicago, 20– 22
Puerto Rico, 11– 12
“question of race,” 53– 56, 153
race. See geography of racial politics
race, definitions, 2, 116; coupled with
ethnicity, 60– 64, 79; vs. ethnicity,
29, 53– 57; human, 138; recognized by
U.S. government, 53– 54, 109; social
construct, 7– 10, 56; “Some Other
Race” (SOR) category, 54– 56, 58– 59,
152; standard categorization of, 53– 56,
58, 59, 60, 152
Race Migrations: Latinos and the Cultural
Transformation of Race (Roth), 23
racial binary: blacks and, 84, 86– 87,
91– 92; by- default identification with,
86– 88, 114– 115; Latinos as social
middle, tilting toward blacks, 5, 85,
95– 96, 104, 109– 114, 116; rejected,
80– 81, 83– 84, 89– 94, 152; rejection
of, 80– 81, 83– 84, 89– 94, 114– 115, 152;
reluctantly embraced, 85– 89; tilting
toward white, 5, 85, 95– 96, 104,
105– 109, 116; whites and, 84, 86– 87,
91– 92
racial citizenship, 10– 14, 48, 119, 120. See
also citizenship
racial epithets, 41– 43, 45
racial hierarchy, 80, 82, 84– 85, 112, 152;
social distance and, 101– 102
racial liminality, 12
racial- linguistic aggressions, 38
racial location. See identification, racial/
ethnic of Latinos by others; self-
identification
racial microaggressions, 8, 49
racial middle. See Latinos as racial middle
racial politics, geography of. See geogra-
phy of racial politics
racial politics of belonging. See belonging,
racial politics of
racial profiling, 45– 46, 48– 49
racial triangulation model, 82– 83, 115,
153– 154
racism, 132. See also discrimination; geog-
raphy of racial politics
Ramos- Zayas, Ana Yolanda, 21
religion, 121
Replenished Ethnicity: Mexican Ameri-
cans, Immigration, and Identity
(Jiménez), 23
Ricourt, Milagros, 17
Rios, Victor, 44
Rivera- Servera, R., 22
Rodríguez, Clara, 62
Rodríguez- Muñíz, Michael, 16
Rosa, Jonathan, 38, 40

174 | I n d e x
Rosaldo, Renato, 119, 154
Roth, Wendy, 23
Rúa, Mérida, 22
Rumbaut, Ruben, 18, 23
Sanchez, Magaly, 24
school/education, 43– 44, 46– 47, 108, 149
segregation, 111– 112
self- identification: ancestry and par-
entage, 6, 124– 125; context in, 18,
62, 64; by ethnicity, 51, 61– 62; in
middle, 96– 104, 116, 153; as “nei-
ther” race, 89– 90, 94; open- ended
questions to determine, 58– 59,
64; phenotype and, 29, 58, 90, 95,
105, 110; racial binary and, 85– 89,
114– 115; SOR category, 54– 56, 58–
59, 152. See also Latinos as racial
middle
self- identification, as Mexican American,
4, 6, 23, 51; along with other terms,
59, 62, 145– 146; vs. American self-
identification, 117, 124– 125, 132, 148;
assimilation and, 56; context in, 64;
cultural rationale, 92– 93, 145– 146; vs.
identification by others, 65, 67, 70, 74;
skin color and, 77– 78
self- identification, panethnic, 4, 61– 62,
64, 79, 90, 152; vs. American self-
identification, 118, 129; in Chicago,
19– 22; Hispanic/Latino category, 15– 19,
52– 55, 58– 59, 61– 62
September 11, 2001, 25– 26
Silvestrini, Blanca, 145
skin color, 4, 111; “gray” and “brown”
categorization and, 100– 101; Latino
prototype and, 67– 68, 73– 74; level
of discrimination and, 37– 38, 49– 50,
155; of parents, 77– 78, 86– 89, 106– 107,
116; racial binary and, 90– 91; racial
hierarchy and, 82. See also blacks;
phenotype; physical characteristics;
whites
Smith, Ryan A., 8
social class: American ethnoracial ideal
and, 122; mobility and Americanness,
25, 129– 131, 134– 135, 154; tilting toward
white, 107; working class, 3
social distance, 101– 104, 106, 114
social origin, 57
“Some Other Race” (SOR) category, 54–
56, 58– 59, 152
South America, 138, 139
Spanish language, 4, 15, 38, 39– 40, 77
stereotypes, 93– 94, 108
stores and restaurants, treatment in, 34,
35– 37, 38– 39, 44– 45
student population of Latinos, 20
suburbs, 19, 103– 104, 106, 112
surveillance, 43– 45
Taylor, Paul, 18
Telles, Edward, 23, 78
Theiss- Morse, Elizabeth, 118
Torres- Saillant, Silvio, 57
Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, 11
trespassing, sense of, 32, 34
Trouble with Unity, The (Beltran), 16
Trump, Donald, 14, 150– 151, 156, 157
Tsuda, Takeyuki, 119, 120, 154
undocumented immigrants, 13, 127, 150–
151. See also immigration status and
legality
United States. See Americanness
urban neighborhoods, 103– 104
Urciuoli, Bonnie, 38
U.S. Census, 53– 56, 152
U.S.- Mexico border, 13; wall, 14, 150
Vaquera, Elizabeth, 58
Vasquez, Jessica, 23, 78
visibility, racial politics of, 32– 39, 49– 50;
hypervisibility, 33– 34, 38– 39, 40– 41,
43– 44, 45, 46– 48; invisibility, 29, 33,
34– 37, 38– 39, 43, 60, 91– 92

I n d e x | 175
white privilege, 108– 109, 113– 114
whites, 4– 5, 39, 53, 58; American eth-
noracial ideal and, 120– 125; citizen-
ship and, 10– 11; “honorary,” 81– 82, 96;
Latinos mistaken for, 71, 75; Latinos’
social distance from, 101– 104; passing
as, 75– 76, 86, 109; racial binary and,
84, 86– 87, 91– 92; racial hierarchy
and, 80, 84– 85; tilting toward, 5, 85,
95– 96, 104, 105– 109, 116; visibility
and, 91– 92. See also geography of
racial politics
Winant, Howard, 8
women, 20, 22, 71– 73, 88– 89, 131; visibility
and, 34, 44– 45. See also gender
working class, 3; American ethnoracial
ideal and, 123
Youth, Identity, Power: The Chicano Move-
ment (Munoz), 23– 24

177
A b o u t t h e Au t h o r
Nilda Flores- González is Professor of Sociology at the University of
Illinois at Chicago. Her publications include School Kids/Street Kids:
Identity Development in Latino Students and two co- edited books: Mar-
cha! Latino Chicago and the Immigrant Rights Movement and Immigrant
Women in the Neoliberal Era.

Cover
CITIZENS BUT NOT AMERICANS
Title
Copyright
Dedication
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
1. Race and Belonging among Latino Millennials
2. Latinos and the Racial Politics of Place and Space
3. Latinos as an Ethnorace
4. Latinos as a Racial Middle
5. Latinos as “Real” Americans
6. Rethinking Race and Belonging among Latino Millennials
References
Index
About the Author