The news that Mexican immigration to the United States has come to a virtual halt has me thinking about all the ways that will change things. It will affect politics, culture, labor and the nation's racial climate. And it will also change how we see each other and ourselves as Americans and as Californians, me included.
I'm one of those mythical native Californians you might have read about. I was born near the corner of Sunset and Vermont in Hollywood. My father was born in L.A. and baptized, as was I, at La Placita Church downtown. My mom was born in northern San Diego County and baptized at the San Antonio de Pala mission there. My paternal great-grandfather arrived in the U.S. - Arizona - from Mexico in 1893. My family has been American so long that sometimes I think I should wear one of those buckled Pilgrim hats.
And yet, despite my rootedness in Southern California, migration has had an inordinate effect on my life, especially my intellectual and professional life. I've always been something of a tour guide, interpreter and even a booster for my regional homeland. As a young Dodgers fan I always resented that half the stadium would root for the Chicago Cubs. I pronounced the glories of L.A. to my friends whose parents longed for the hometowns - New York, Milwaukee, Saigon - they left behind. (And then there's my love life. I once realized that most of the women whose lives have collided with mine were from families - Korean, Japanese, Vietnamese, German, Mexican - that arrived here because of migration's big catalyst: wars we fought or labor shortages caused by those wars.)
As a kid, of course, some still saw my ethnicity and skin color as signs of my being an outsider. In third grade I was called the "N-word." By the 11th, the haters had wised up and switched to more "accurate" ethnic slurs. There were also incidents outside school, and what they all had in common was that they were committed by white kids who had fewer choices than I did. Their words stung, but they didn't keep me from being elected class president. As a suburban upper-middle-class kid from an educated family, I pretty much felt I could be what I wanted to be, and I chose to be an Angeleno.
