By Lisa Cisneros –

“Cisneros? What are you Greek?”  This is the question I’m asked almost always after a person finds out that my last name is “Cisneros”.   You know people, I’m not even sure anymore. I can’t seem to get a straight answer.

When people ask me about my heritage I’m inclined to say that I’m Spanish and Mexican and of course American and by the end of trying to explain I sound like I have multiple personalities and the person who asked me the question has quietly left the room out of boredom.

My father is Juan Luis Cisneros, born in Brownsville, Texas, to Luis Napoleon Cisneros and Manuela Maria Trevino. Both of my grandparents were born in Matamoros, Mexico. My family has lived in Matamoros since the late 1600s.

My father said our family came over from Spain. He has traced our family tree and says that my grandmother and grandfather actually spawned from the same man many generations back. (Eeww…) Actually, if this is indeed true, I think it’s pretty cool. Nice water cooler conversation.

Here’s my dilemma, am I Spanish or Mexican? My father is 100 percent of one or the other, so I’m 50 percent. Can I be 25 percent of each?

When I was a little girl I grew up in the predominantly Mexican neighborhood of Cicero, Ill. We moved when I was eight years old and since then I have always lived in “white” neighborhoods.

Up until the middle of high school I would proudly tell people that I was Mexican (until I became confused). Sometimes I was picked on because of it but I didn’t care. I thought it sounded exotic and all of the Mexican girls I knew were hot so I liked putting myself in that category.

Well, one day at Thanksgiving I made a comment about being Mexican when my Aunt Laura chimed in “We’re not Mexican mija, we’re Spanish.” My father agreed. This opened a discussion.

Our family has lived in Mexico for the last 300 years. Both of my grandparents were born in Mexico. I assume that this makes me Mexican. My family still lives predominately in Matamoros.

My father pointed out, however, “If your parents are both German and you happened to be born in Japan do you tell people that you’re Japanese?” He says all of this while he carries around a bandana in his back pocket that has the Mexican flag on it. Oy Vey!

People say that I look more “Spanish” than “Mexican” but who’s to say what anybody looks like? Ted Bundy looked liked a “nice young man”.

I know one thing, I definitely look like my grandmother. Down to our thumbs, I’m almost identical. I sport her thick beautiful hair and also her heavy legs and particularly large behind. The one thing I didn’t get from her was her breasts. Too bad, they’re huge.

I definitely got my boobs from my mother, who is a total stereotypical “white girl” by the way, all the way down to how she dances, or I should say tries too. Sorry Mom, you are beautiful, but you can’t dance.

I think I’ve got some rhythm, which I’m happy to say, came from my father’s side. Latinos and Hispanics of all regions can most definitely “cut a rug.” I know it’s a stereotype, but it’s a positive one. Let’s be honest? Have you ever met a Mexican girl who was a lousy dancer? And I think Shakira speaks for the Colombians.

What it boils down to is that I realize that I really don’t know anything about my heritage and it saddens me deeply. I also can’t speak a lick of Spanish. It wasn’t spoken in my house.

I’m proud of my family, whatever we are. Now it is up to me to find out exactly what that is. I think my ability to become the person that I want to be is very much ingrained in learning about where I came from.

For now I will have to be content with what I am: A big bootie shaking, half Spanish/ Mexican, possibly inbred (!), flat-chested, half white girl, who can dance, who desperately wants to learn more about where she came from.