On (not) fitting in at the Fiesta

The other day, J and I went to the Fiesta (supermarket which caters to Texas' huge hispanic population that makes me so incredibly homesick) to get some TopoChico and I decided, right then and there "this is my new grocery store."

I went there today with grocery list in hand, and felt like an absolute alien - no a tourist. And if there is anything I can't stand, it's being judged as a tourist in a place that is engraved in my soul (yes, this is a grocery store we're talking about - but I refer to the mexanism of it). People were looking at me... well, no... not looking at me - wouldn't even make eye contact. As if I had infiltrated their hispanic haven. I wanted to look at them and say, 'hey, i have every right to be here. I probably speak better spanish than you!' Then i thought of a less obvious approach... maybe when people are complaining about the slow cashier in SPanish, I can chime in with my two cents with my flawless accent. Ha - that'll show 'em to judge a book by her blonde hair and white skin.

Then it occurs to me that this is may be how most of the shoppers in this store - primarily hispanic and black - feel when they go to, say, the Tom Thumb by my house. And then it just pisses me off. The whole thing. Segregation as reality despite being "illegal."

I will go the Fiesta again, because it has things in it that remind me of my childhood. And since I have never been one of those to make anyone feel like they look like they're are in the wrong place, I refuse to let a little discomfort keep me away.

Of course, it may not be that I'm white... it may be that I'm pretty obviously not hetero. I believe that's more insulting to both aforementioned communities than being a blonde girl shopping in the Fiesta. And there you go, I just perpetuated a stereotype.

bah.