The Daily Aztec

Issue date: 5/9/07 Section: Tempo

There I was, an 18-year-old Latina from an immigrant family, attending freshman orientation for San Diego State during summer in 2003. My hair was done in two messy braids and the summer tan on my already brown skin was glowing.

Coming from a local, urban high school, I was used to seeing faces like my own and people who had similar experiences. So it came as quite a shock to see that many of my fellow freshmen were the opposite of me: white, wealthy and privileged.

But freshman orientation was only the beginning. My entire first year was filled with confusion and self-discovery that comes with the rites of passage that only college can provide.

At SDSU, I became increasingly aware of my lack of material wealth that classmates seemed to have an excess of. Every girl seemed to be carrying her schoolbooks in a Coach purse and wearing Ugg boots with a miniskirt on cold, rainy days. My classmates' Spring Break plans consisted of chugging alcoholic beverages in a variety of third-world countries. I saw people walking from class to class with white headphones in their ears from a new iPod. More than once, I sat next to a drunk classmate during morning or early afternoon classes.

It doesn't help that my early college career was marked by the beginning of now-classic MTV shows such as "Laguna Beach: The Real Orange County" and "My Super Sweet Sixteen," both of which show young, wealthy Americans and their jaw-dropping spending habits.

I became surrounded by this culture of the trust-fund baby, which was brand-new to me. Looking back now, I realize that there was a definite crossroads in my life. I could have joined one of the "multicultural" sororities on campus, but thankfully, I realized soon enough that those organizations only serve to assimilate ethnic minorities into the American melting pot instead of instilling true cultural pride.

So there I was, drowning in materialism, struggling to swim but lured by its appeal.

My lifesaver came in the form of the often controversial organization Movimiento Estudiantil Chicana/o de Aztlan. Since joining MEChA in fall of 2005, I've become leaps and bounds closer to finding my true identity, and it's definitely not that of the token Latina woman.

In MEChA, I found students with a similar background to mine (working-class, immigrant families) with familiar struggles. These people became my college family and together we've left a mark on this university and the Mexican communities of San Diego. I'll never forget the planning and stress of large events such as the annual "Zapata Vive!" march in Barrio Logan or the long study nights in the Chicano collection room of the library.

With MEChA, I had a place to apply what I learned in my Chicano studies classes; I learned that activism is not something that belongs only in history books. No matter how cliché it sounds, MEChA completed me.

I'm getting ready to leave SDSU and because MEChA is a student organization, I can't continue to use it as my space for activism. I'm still confused about my future even now that graduation looms so close. I chose a career in journalism, which emphasizes political neutrality and frowns upon public protesting, an act I can't stay away from. I will also receive a degree in Chicano studies, which doesn't exactly qualify me for a paycheck in activism.

Once again, my heart is torn. But I know now that my heart is not alone. It has the strength and power of the millions of people like myself: immigrant, working-class Latinos, many of them unrecognized by the political and economic system of this country. These people make me proud to be me, the same youthful Latina with messy braids that, according to my loving boyfriend, make me look indigenous.

There's nothing like going back to your roots.



-Laura Limón is a journalism and Chicano studies senior.



-This column does not necessarily reflect the opinion of The Daily Aztec.

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