“Oh, I’m not that kind of Chicano,” he said and shook his head when I mentioned something about a friend who is very into the indigenismo aspect of being a Chicano.
“I’m not like that either… but I think I’m becoming a parody of myself.”
“What do you mean?”
“Some days I think I look like a Chicana who is trying too hard. Just look at the stuff I carry around with me.”
I pointed to the everyday woven morral my mom bought for me from a Catholic charity selling items made by indigenous women in Guatemala or Mexico. I took out my wallet, which features a classic La Sirena lotería card. Next I showed him the Guatemalan change purse I used as a camera case. I didn’t even bother showing him my silver Aztec calendar pendant nor the beaded bracelets and earrings I bought in Morelia.
“But I don’t wear these clothes and bracelets or carry around this bag just so I can prove just how Chicana I am. I just carry it around because I like it.”