Another view on racism: “We were the neighbors from hell”

Several weeks ago, one of my siblings forwarded information regarding the death and funeral notice for the matriarch of a family living on my street during my childhood and young adult years. I don’t remember any contact with her specifically, but I had sufficient interactions with her children so as to presume to know the type of home and the type of parents these children came from.

These children were the ones who told me not to touch or play with their dog, because their dog “doesn’t like Mexicans,” the same ones who refused to talk to me at the bus stop while waiting for the school bus, the ones who would call me “wetback” once we got off the bus and walked the same route to our homes.

Inevitably, I grew up and left the neighborhood. While away, my thoughts sometimes went to these neighbors and the negative impact their hurtful words had on me. Ironically, my ruminations about them frequently included derogatory terms based on their ethnic origins and place of birth, and I would feel a righteous indignation that this family could dislike our family solely based on our ethnic origins. After all, we were not bad people, right?

Truth is oftentimes an uncomfortable fit with our own prejudices and self-image. In my mind, my family was the victim of prejudice and hostility. While it was true that we were the only Mexican family on that street, there were other factors at play.

There were two homes on our property: the main house facing the street where my family lived, and a rental house on the back of the property. This house was rented to 10-20 single men who worked the fields nearby. There were no background checks or references required to live in that rundown and cramped house; it was sufficient that they could afford the rent.

These men brought with them their vices — drinking after work, cockfighting, poker games with loud music that would draw another 20 to 30 men to our property on the weekends. We also housed 20 to 30 roosters for cockfighting and let our very large dog run loose in the neighborhood.

We were the neighbors from hell.

Words have power, and children learn values and words in their home and from their parents. Perhaps the neighbors tried to protect their children from strangers and suspicious activity by using racially derogatory terms because they wanted them away from our questionable living situation.

I wish they had listed their valid reasons for staying away from us, instead of instilling hate and prejudice in the hearts and minds of their children.

This story was originally published July 17, 2020 at 5:00 AM.