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NYCTalking’s latest segment, “From the blog.” Here I will share blog posts and sometimes expand on the ideas presented there. On this one we’ll talk about what it is like living in America as a white passing Latino.
Sometime ago, a right winger asked me if I felt any “White guilt” because of how I look. He was trying to create drama around White privilege, something that he strongly denies could possibly exist.
Well, I don’t feel any guilt for being White passing. I look the way I look and that can’t be helped. My parents, siblings, and grandparents don’t all look like me. Therefore, although I present this way to the world, it is not the self-identity that I carry. I don’t live my life thinking I am a White man, but I do recognize the privilege my appearance affords me.
I walk the world knowing that my great-grandma and grandma were Afro-Latinas and their heritage flows through my veins. I have uncles who present as Black men. Their lives came from the same family as my parents, who later created me. Yes, I look like a White person to an extent, but I am very aware of my family roots and the heritage that shapes me.
Please don’t misunderstand me, I do not harbor any negative feelings towards White people or my appearance. I actually kind of like how I look. But at the end of the day, I simply don’t have control over this. I am who I am. However, I do recognize how the world perceives me differently than others in my family.
It seems deeply ingrained in society that we often don’t notice our biases. For example, when I was a young kid, I thought I was one of the good-looking kids in my class. No one ever told me that, no one taught me, but society subtly instilled that belief because I had straight hair, lighter skin, and features that allowed me to pass as White.
Continuing with that thought, I believed that kids who looked like me but had even lighter eyes, blonde hair, and fairer features were considered more attractive. I wasn’t taught that; it was just an unspoken reality. Those kids often received more attention, got lead roles in plays, and were treated more favorably by staff.
At the same time, my peers sometimes targeted me because I looked and acted White. Where I come from, going to school, doing homework, and staying out of trouble was seen as “acting White.” I remember an incident when some kids tried to set my hair on fire after catching me in a group. When I ran away, they shouted insults referring to me as “that White boy.”
This all happened in a neighborhood mostly made up of Latino and Black kids. Even within that community, perceptions around appearance impacted how people were treated. The fact that those kids expressed frustration and directed it at me, even without knowing me, reflects part of that dynamic.
How can someone say appearance based privilege is not real when I experienced it before I even understood what it was? Simply by appearance, kids who looked like me were treated differently in our microcosm of society. That may seem unfair, but it’s a reality that points to how much appearance shapes our experiences.
Even the nicknames we used hinted at this. There was a kid whose street name was “Bembu.” At the time, I didn’t think much of it and assumed it was just a cool nickname. Later, I learned it was a derogatory term meaning “big lip” in Spanish. That made me realize the subtle ways biases were present around us.
This experience shows that certain social advantages tied to appearance, even if not named or formally recognized back then, existed and shaped how we related to each other. It wasn’t something we were taught; it was just there, influencing interactions and opportunities.
Once, during a chaotic situation where I got caught hopping a train, my friends joked, “Don’t worry Angel, they won’t make a big deal out of it, you look White.” As it turned out, the outcome for me was relatively minor, while some of my friends who looked different often seemed to face heavier consequences for similar or lesser actions.
Beyond those moments, even where and how we lived contrasted with the experiences of others. Resources like funding, education, and after-school programs were different depending on the neighborhood. I remember a colleague on the trading floor once asked me, “What do you mean you didn’t have a soccer stadium at your school? Doesn’t every school have one?” He was surprised, and I wasn’t. These disparities were everywhere.
It’s not surprising that many who benefit from appearance based advantages are unaware of them. When someone points it out, it’s sometimes met with defensiveness or accusations of hostility.
I believe the difficulty some people have is that acknowledging these advantages means questioning an unspoken societal dynamic. Or perhaps, in some cases, they simply cannot see it. Like I said before, I was never explicitly told I was good looking as a kid; it was just an understood fact that lighter features often meant better treatment.
I’m grateful to have recognized this reality. I walk through the world with the unique perspective of a kid from a poor neighborhood of Latino descent who looks White. Whenever I have the opportunity, I raise awareness that appearance shapes experience in very real ways. When someone says something they wouldn’t say in front of others, I take a moment to address it. It’s up to all of us to be mindful. Everyone should work toward making society a better place for all.
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