Mexican-Americans search for ‘Homelands,’ find themselves

SAN DIEGO » Alfredo Corchado is messing with my head, forcing me to think hard about something I had neatly packed away: what it means to be Mexican-American.

As a reporter — currently for The Dallas Morning News, and earlier at The El Paso Herald-Post and The Wall Street Journal — Corchado has always been a good storyteller.

Corchado’s engaging new book — “Homelands: Four Friends, Two Countries, and the Fate of the Great Mexican-American Migration” — explores the complicated landscape of what he calls “Mexico in the United States.”

I know this place. I visit it often with the help of an adorable guide: my wife.

There came the day when — exasperated at the extent of my assimilation — she demanded to know: “Exactly what kind of Mexican are you?” I responded: “The American kind!”

Making a Mexican-American is like making mole. Muchos ingredients: insecurity about our Spanish, feeling “Mexican” in America but “American” in Mexico, annoyance with a homeland that drove out our Mexican ancestors but now welcomes our American dollars when we go south of the border on vacation.

It’s all Greek to my wife, who was born in Guadalajara and came to the United States legally as a child. She considers herself a Mexican living in the United States.

According to Corchado, my wife is also my “better 7/8.” Corchado’s right about the math. He is also right about how, with MexicanAmericans in the United States, no two journeys are the same.

His book is about four friends — all of them Americans of Mexican origin who gather in a Mexican restaurant in Philadelphia in 1987. In the shadow of the Immigration Reform and Control Act, which legalized nearly 3 million people, the compadres start a dialogue about immigration, politics, family, love and how to succeed as an American while remaining Mexican.

The conversation lasts 30 years, against the backdrop of a massive migration of people from Mexico to the United States.

Corchado’s first book was about what Mexico is becoming because of Americans’ appetite for illegal drugs. The new book is about identity and what America has become due to its addiction to illegal-immigrant labor.

The veterano chronicler now serves as the Morning News’ U.S.Mexico border correspondent.

Corchado considers himself a Mexican-American. Raised in the United States but still in love with Mexico, he doesn’t feel like he has to choose one country over another.

A major theme in “Homelands” is fitting into the United States. I’ve never worried much about that. This is my country. I don’t feel emotionally connected to Mexico, which is just another exotic place to visit on vacation. Corchado will have none of it. “Mexico is right next door, a constant reminder of our homeland, or our parents’ or grandparents’ homeland,” he tells me. “It’s like slamming the door to your relatives when they’re standing right across from you. Even those who want to forget find it increasingly difficult to cut the ties. I certainly don’t want to forget.”

I respect that. Yet my loyalty lies on this side of the border. I despise those wealthy Mexican elites who look down on poor, uneducated and dark-skinned immigrants washing dishes in Las Vegas or picking peaches near Fresno.

Corchado and I are different varieties of Mexican-Americans. My friend is a free agent who won’t commit to one team, like the child in a troubled marriage who steps in-between his parents when they’re bickering. And the border is the Southwest’s version of a cultural Demilitarized Zone.