SARAH TENORIO | Posted: Friday, February 8, 2008 6:00 pm
Culture shock. That’s the term to describe what I experienced when I arrived in Lincoln seven months ago to study at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln.
Coming from El Paso, Texas, a border town in which 78 percent of the population is Hispanic, I’ve grown up in a completely different world. The world I’ve known is filled with warm weather, Sun Bowl football games, Chico’s Tacos and the Spanglish language.
I’ll admit I was intimidated by what might await me when I got to Lincoln. I’d heard the stories about leaving El Paso — stories of discrimination, ignorance and failure.
I remember the first time I saw the face of bigotry. I was 10 years old, coming from a camping trip in New Mexico. My family and I decided to stop for breakfast on our way home. We walked into a Denny’s, and the smell of sizzling bacon lit my face up. But as we stood in front of the “Please Wait to be Seated” sign, the entire restaurant fell silent. Elderly white men turned from their newspapers, white couples stopped eating, and the white manager came out from behind the counter crossing his arms. My dad asked for a table. The manager stood there with a frown and retorted, “In a minute, sir,” as if my father was being impatient.
We stood there for a while longer. Still not fully understanding the situation, I whined to my mom, asking what was taking so long. She shushed me, saying they were really busy this morning. Ironically I noticed a waitress leaned over the counter smoking a cigarette. The look she gave me made me feel 3 inches tall. I felt hot, as though every eye blaring at us was made of fire.
Finally my dad grabbed my mom’s hand and said, “Let’s go.” We found a deserted Mexican restaurant down the street with waiters happy to serve us.
After that time, I grew weary of any town that wasn’t El Paso. Anywhere else I’m a “minority.” I never wanted to feel as humiliated as I did that summer morning. Since then, when I went out of town, I wondered what people thought of me because I’m a Mexican-American. I remember nervously walking through clothing stores in Dallas fearing that the salespeople were talking about me. I remember playing at a park in Phoenix unsure of how parents would feel about me playing with their children. I’ve prepared myself for the worst of situations. Before I came to Lincoln, I wanted to be invisible if I was anywhere besides El Paso.
To my relief, Nebraska surprised me. Here I’ve been welcomed with open arms and nothing but kindness. Some days I’ll be walking around campus and get greeted by a random student. That doesn’t happen back home.
So many people have helped me adjust to the “culture shock.” The only thing that’s been shocking about this change is how well I’ve been treated. It has changed my perspective.
Then I read the legislative resolution that Sen. Mark Christensen of Imperial introduced recently.
Part of the ballot language reads as follows: A constitutional amendment to prohibit discrimination and preferential treatment on the basis of race, sex, color, ethnicity, or national origin in the operation of public employment, public education, or public contracting by the state or any of its agencies, institutions, or political subdivisions.
At first glance, I thought it was opposing discrimination, but after rereading the wordy text a couple of times I realized the deceiving phrase, “to prohibit discrimination and preferential treatment,” means it’s opposing affirmative action.
Suddenly I got that old feeling again. Feeling 3 inches tall. Feeling unwelcomed. After all, affirmative action is an opportunity to increase diversity in all aspects of a society. And if that’s so, then opposing affirmative action is opposing diversity.
I’ve never seen Nebraskans in the same light that I saw the people in that diner, nine years ago. Back then, I saw hatred. Here in Nebraska, I see kindness.
But if the ban on affirmative action is passed, Nebraskans will look like the people in that restaurant years ago — ignorant and unwelcoming to diversity.
Sarah Tenorio is a freshman at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln.