My Dad hates Texas. In the 1950s, he joined in the Air Force and got stuck in Wichita Falls. He endured a lot of anti-Latino sentiment back then, and it’s still fresh in his memory. So now, when I tell him how much I like it here, he just shakes his head and doesn’t get it.
I think I’m seeing a different Texas now, and I have to believe that attitudes have evolved since my Dad’s Air Force days.
As I cruise through the state and soak up the culture, I’m finding that Texas is full of it; culture, that is. The food, the music, the attitude. And it doesn’t belong to just one ethnic group either, it belongs to the People. There’s nothing else like it anywhere.
I like Texas because it offers me the perfect blend of what I, a third-generation Mexican-American pocha, loves the most: Apple Pie and pan dulce, bluegrass and tejano. In Tejas, I can be a hillbilly or a beaner! A beaner-billy, if you will. I love the way the best of American and Mexican cultures are so closely intertwined in much of this gigantic landscape.