Ramblings on slurs and slicing and dicing ...

Ethnic slurs are hurtful.  They are driven by the intense dislike of foreigners, their customs, their values, and their heritage.  They are typically hurled against new comers, although they linger on for years.  Unbeknownst to most, they contribute to resentments, and occasionally to the desire for getting even.

As a young immigrant myself, I discovered terms used to describe my nationality that I had not heard before in my native land.  People would call me dago, DP, wetback, guinea, Banana Boat, and wop.  I had no idea what the terms meant or what they were intended to communicate.  The only thing I knew was that those saying them would laugh and smirk when saying them.  I soon realized that slurs were common in a not-so-polically-correct America, not just for Italians, but for all ethnic or racial groups.  I also discovered that Italo-Americans had also adopted code slurs against other ethic groups: milinciana (eggplant), for example was used to describe Blacks in a pejorative way, related to their color.  I had never heard this term used in my native land.  I found it to be despicable.

As a teenager, I tried to understand their meaning or the history behind.  Some were more obvious than others.  For example DP stood for displaced person, a term applied to refugees.  Since I was not a refugee, I assumed the person did not know that both of my grandfathers had come to America 50 years earlier.  Wetback meant you swam your way across the Rio Grande to reach America, that is why your back was wet.  Since I am not Mexican, I thought that the speaker was ignorant and poorly educated, and that he did not know that Italy is not on the other side of the Rio Grande.  Dago and Guinea I could never get a consistent definition, so I assumed, in the latter case, that the person saw me as a laboratory animal.  Banana Boat was a slur for those sneaking in on board ships bringing bananas to the US from Central and South America.  Since Italy does not grow bananas, again I assumed that the person was an idiot, illiterate in geography. Wop was an interesting one.  It meant without papers, you know, people who used to jump ship or enter the country illegally.  Since I had papers, I felt that the person saying it was a total ignoramus. 

I must admit right here and now that I resented all these slurs.  I saw them as demeaning and intended to intimidate me, to make me feel inferior or defective for who I was or because of where I came from.  I used that resentment to motivate myself to out perform those idiots at all levels, academically, professionally, financially, etc.

Fast Forward ....

I find it curious that our Latino brothers and sisters prefer to be called WOPs rather than illegal, claiming no person is illegal.  I agree with their rationale.  But wait a minute, wop is our slur, not yours, you cannot willy-nilly take it from us.  What was a pejorative descriptor is now an in-word.  How times have changed!

The mania to dice and slice Americans is a divisive strategy, in my view.  I wonder if it is not a “civilized” way of setting people apart.  I wonder if it is not a way to dress up the slurs of yesteryear.  I do not wonder, I am convinced that it is a tactic to manipulate us, to set one group against the other, to divide us and conquer us. Be it disguised as market research, political analysis, or what have you.

The Melting Pot

When I came to this country, I was told that America is a melting pot, that I should learn English and become an American, that although my origins were elsewhere, I too could become American.   

I understand the scientific reasons for analyzing sub-groups, but I lament the negative consequences from such analysis. 

We are dissected in so many ways that the totality of our humanity gets often obscured.  We have age, gender, race, religion, locality, ethnicity, marital status, job level, clubs, income, health, home ownership, credit card holder, political affiliation, etc.   We have all become hyphenated Americans. 

I do not like some hyphenations!  I often refer to myself as an Italo-American or Siculo-American.  However, my DNA examination revealed that I do NOT have any Italian markers, and that my ancestors were primarily from the Iberian Peninsula and the Aegean region e.g., Asia Minor.  So what am I?  Like many others, a product of a potpourri of groups that invaded and settled in Sicily, my native land. 

How about you?  What do you wonder?