“ Difficult people are not truly sad or deeply hurt inside. They are difficult because WE allow them to be! Literally, because they can, they will get away with it. Research shows that difficult people get the best hours/shifts at jobs, salary increases (even if not deserving), and many everyday-life benefits. Difficult people navigate life knowing that most people will give them what they want to avoid a confrontation. They start conflict fearlessly, because they know most of us have been conditioned to take the high road. When called out on their lies, hypocrisy, or other bad behavior, they pretend to be offended, hurt, insulted, incredulous. Then the gaslighting kicks into high gear. Difficult people are opportunists. For that reason, I think it’s a public service to confront people and call them out on their bullshit.”

January 6th was a dark day in U.S. history. America saw the epicenter of our democracy ransacked, desecrated, vandalized. Hundreds of rioters purportedly defending their right to protest and assemble (albeit not peaceably as stated in the Constitution) threatened the lives of our legislators and compromised the security of our most sacred civic duty, the certification of the electoral college.

Latinos in particular, took to social media to point out how the current state of affairs resemble staged coups throughout Latin American. Except that on U.S. soil, it was Americans not foreign intervention, who were responsible for the insurrection. Conversely, others invoked the simpler times when defeat was met with graciousness or when a scandal was followed by a prompt resignation. I too, (the hopeless nostalgic vintage buff that I am), miss those days when people lost with honor.

However, if we were to bring back the days of civility, we need to revert back…way back to a time before difficult people climbing the proverbial ladder were stopped, or perhaps earlier, when unruly children were scolded and dare I say, disciplined*.

People have compared our now departed ex-president to the likes of a child who is having a tantrum because he doesn’t know how to lose or perhaps he was never taught what it means to lose. George Carlin once spoke about how we live in a society that worships children to the point when they no longer hear the truth about themselves until they’re in their twenties when their boss says, “Clean the shit outta your desk and get the fuck out.” He attributes this to the way in which we have overprotected children from hearing those all too important character building words like “you lost, Bobby, you’re a loser” and instead, calling the loser of a game “the last winner.”

Throughout my life as a childhood educator, I have seen the Donald Trumps of the world coming up the ranks. Spoiled, difficult children who treat their teachers like hired help and school directors forever bowing down to every demand and desire these children (and their parents) command. Language is glossed so that if a child was difficult or even a bully, we needed to understand him, instead of simply warning him to stop. If a child was unruly, we needed to negotiate instead of telling parents (and the child himself) that such behaviors were simply unacceptable. The flags were seen but ignored. We simply sat in silence, passing the buck, not taking the apodictic bull by the horns. Education, especially private education, has become a dangerous endeavor of pleasing the customer rather than educating children.

Which brings me to a pivotal point. We the people, in order to form a more perfect union need for parents, educators, and decent people all over to step up and halt the antics perpetrated and perpetuated by people of the likes of our former president; people who perhaps have never heard a “no” in their entire lives and were raised with a sense of entitlement so powerful, even grown ass adults feared confronting them. Let us not forget that during his stint as a reality TV “star”, our former president engaged in bullying participants, who in turn, were more than happy to submit to someone who stripped away their humanity. This, in hopes of basking in the glory of reality stardom, even if for a fleeting minute. Bullying and difficult people thus, not only became the norm in reality TV, it permeated our American ethos from the classroom to the boardroom. Difficult children, becoming difficult co-workers, who in turn would become bully bosses, ruling with no consequence and zero accountability. Toxic work environments are now the standard, upheld by the silent agreement that the proverbial boat will always remain unrocked.

Nothing embodies silence is violence than the events that transpired on January 6th in the hands of a niño engreido who never received un par de chancletazos in his lifetime, whose actions went forever unchecked and celebrated by adulators who befriend bullies as a survival tactic to avoid becoming targets themselves. When I was an educator, it was the cadre of mean girls who fawned all over the boss, a bully herself. She had her bootlickers who in turn tormented those who were not part of the clique, creating a culture where you were either with them or against them. Except, in the case of the insurrection, the Capitol was no high school cafeteria and the clique was a carefully organized mob of thousands.

I agree with my hermamiga. We need to engage in the public service of confronting difficult people. Confrontation is uncomfortable but sometimes absolutely necessary. Otherwise, we cannot pretend to be shocked when the defiant child one day becomes our irrepressible commander-in-chief. Furthermore, we cannot act so surprised when we see a person embolden others to commit acts of violence. The same way the difficult people and their enablers band together, we the people, the decent people must band together to stop them. If the saying goes, it takes a village then others must accept when the village unanimously agrees that a parent is raising an asshole. The insurrection and its subsequent acquittal should be a cautionary tale for those in power who seamlessly allow difficult people (or assholes in the making) get their way unquestioned and uncontested.

*I am not endorsing corporal punishment nor child abuse. However, WE Latinos are all too familiar with the meaning of la chancleta (or chancla as many of my non-Dominican brethren say) even when we were never at the receiving end of such.

“White people need to make up their minds as to how they take their Latinos,” I posted on Ebony Murphy Root’s wall. We had met almost a decade ago and quickly became friends through our shared sense of humor on performing identities and our love for food and libations. Once a New Yorker, Ebony moved to Los Ángeles, and we continue to communicate frequently to exchange interesting reads, funny memes and all things in between.

When Eb posted on Facebook yet another story about how a White woman adopted a false Latina identity, as expected, it unraveled a slew of opinions. Whereas White women were in total disbelief (again), scrambling to find justifications (again), the usual cynicism from women of color ensued. This shit again, I scoffed. 2020 was an epic year for the coming out of White women who pretended to be Latina with one particular individual (successful, albeit threatening by the standard) peddling herself as a woke, hoop earring wearing, tight cheetah pants donning Puerto Rican and another as a linguistically insecure Spaniard* who forgot how to say cucumber in English. You all know how both ended.

When the outrage, jokes and memes subsided (as they usually do), Eb and I once again returned to our offline conversations about crafting identities and how some people manage to be quite successful at it. I couldn’t help to wonder what makes a forged minority identity so appealing to Whites, while real Latinos struggle to navigate the very same pipeline our imposters travel through so seamlessly. What is it about these fauxtinos that makes them so delectable to the White palate even when their performance is deemed threatening if carried out by authentic Latinos?

I started thinking about my own identity, my job search, my strategy, and how I have failed miserably. As a little experiment, I started asking for feedback from potential employers and mentors on both my CV and performance. The verdict is in, and I am sorry to report that it’s all contingent upon what the invisible person on the other side of the computer sees, the luck of the draw. When I presented myself in my truest form, I was deemed threatening and intimidating (I speak with my hands and project my voice). Another comment went something like “while my passion for helping the underserved was evident and appreciated, my zest should be curbed so as to not create discomfort.” Note: The job description read “candidate must be passionate and have an unequivocal belief in equity.” When I then presented myself more subdued (pearls and all), I did not look diverse enough to be hired. This, I deducted by stalking the sites to find out who was hired in the end. Let’s just say there are certain profiles that are preferred by many entities, depending on who and what those entities serve. For me, there is no winning. However, an idea did light up in my head during the holiday season.

Before the shutting down of indoor dining in New York City, I was able to squeeze in my annual pilgrimage to Peter Luger. I love a good steak, and dinner with some very good friends was the perfect plan to kick off the countdown to 2021. In order to appease all of the palates present, we decided to order a couple of beef slabs, medium rare and medium with a hot pink center. As our steak approached the table, sizzling in the puddle of butter Peter Luger steaks are known for, I pondered: What if I can create a cooking temperature (términos in Spanish) for Latinos as a way to understand what appeases (or not) the White palate?

As a steak lover, we are very set in our taste of what constitutes an acceptable piece of cooked beef. So, I toyed with the idea of creating a tasting continuum for White people that makes some Latinos palatable while others, well, not so much. Here it goes:

Rare (Jugoso): Rare Latinos are seen as the quintessential needy and poor recent immigrant. They are agreeable because they either tap into the saviourism many White people are so eager to perform or in the worst-case scenario, they are susceptible to exploitation, abuse, and dehumanization, also something many Whites love to partake in. In rare instances, this kind of Latino can fight for agency and galvanize change.

Examples: César Chávez, Dolores Huerta

See also: Latino children who are served by Teach for America.

Medium Rare (Medio cocido): This is the Latino who still bears some kind of accent, denoting otherness which White folk absolutely love. The medium rare Latino is only relatable through becoming a caricature or showing some acculturation while remaining exotic enough for the White palate. Medium rare Latinos are homegrown or imported. They elicit much curiosity either because of their non-threatening demeanor if you are imported, or for their street cred if homegrown. Their command of the English language, albeit with an accent, is publicly celebrated yet mocked in many circles.

Examples: Sofia Vergara (imported), Salma Hayek (imported), Rosy Perez (homegrown), Cardi B (homegrown) Desi Arnaz (imported), Celia Cruz (imported), La Lupe (imported) Cheech Marin (homegrown), Kid Frost (homegrown).

Medium (A punto): Medium Latinos can easily tilt the balance of flavor due to a hot pink center. A picky White palate will demand that they are either scaled back to a type of rare or be further cooked to a more acceptable temperature. On the right palate, there is room for appreciation for the medium Latino who is equal parts American and Latin American. Medium Latinos can be seen as a threat to the White status quo because they are American enough to understand how the system works to not only uplift themselves, but to mobilize the rares while calling out the wells.

Examples: Eva Longoria, Sunny Hostin, Jennifer Lopez, George Lopez, Selena, Zoe Saldaña, Amara La Negra, Sonia Sotomayor, Gloria Estefan, John Leguizamo, Kid Mero, Lin Manuel Miranda, Fat Joe, Rita Moreno, Chita Rivera, Edward James Olmos, America Ferrera, Tito Puente

See also: The scarce Latino CEO or Executive Director who genuinely advances diversity initiatives, Latino causes and Latino people.

Medium Well (Tres cuartos): These nearly-assimilated Latinos have a duality when performing their identity for other Latinos and White people alike. Their command of the English language is superb and they may play the shy Spanish speaker among Spanish-speaking Latinos. You will probably see this kind of individual getting a ‘diversity hire’ job because they checked the “minority box” even when this person has no interest in taking on any Latino causes. They fancy themselves as the exceptional minority and are true gatekeepers who believe that there is space for them and only them. Many biracial Latinos can fall into this category because they are Latino enough to be looked at as diverse, but they understand the coded language and protocols on how to get ahead all by themselves. Self-loathing Latinos who are desperate for White approval fit into this category as well.

Example: Jessica Alba

See also: That one Latino in your company who refuses to help other Latinos. Latinos who feel threatened by other Latinos.

Well Done (Bien Cocido): These are fully assimilated “Latinos” that want nothing to do with being Latino. They will always check the White box on job applications and will say something like “My father is Cuban.”

Examples: Linda Carter, Cameron Diaz, Christina Aguilera, Aubrey Plaza, Ted Cruz, Louis CK.

The Impossible (No translation. This impossible meat is an American thing): Don’t think I forgot about you vegans! Just for you, a popular trend gaining notoriety because while they look Latino and have all of the flavors, they are not! White people tend to become quite disappointed when they discover that the Latino they worshipped is plant-based. But, not all is lost. The Impossible will still leverage book deals, a Netflix series, or an exclusive interview on 60 minutes.

Examples: Jessica Krug, Jeanine Cummings, CV Vitolo-Haddad, Natasha Lycia Ora Bannan

See Also: People who study abroad in a Spanish speaking countries and start calling themselves Roberto, Guillermo, Juana and Hilaria (Bob, William, Jane and Hillary, respectively).

I hope you have savored this satirical social commentary on how Whites (and in some cases, other non-Latinos for that matter) are constantly trying to design (and redesign) the parameters on how WE, LATINOS should be perceived and even defined. However, cosplay for gain and advancement while occupying spaces that are meant for us are no laughing matter.

*Yes, we know that Spanish or Spaniard does not equate to being Latina. However, for all intent and linguistic purposes, Latinos get demonized and even seen as less intelligent for the very same bilingualism Hilaria Baldwin is glorified. I wrote about this here.

*Laughs in Spanish*

I don’t intend to write an exhaustive manifesto on why Hillary’s forged identity is wrong on so many levels. Culture vulturism has been discussed and written about extensively. And while we can all agree that this is a case of a certain type of Caucasian (regular White American girl from Boston) purporting to be another type of Caucasian (Spaniard immigrant with an accent), we need to delve into the linguistic implications of this story.

There are about 41 million Spanish-speaking people in the United States. However, its unfortunate marginalized status also makes Spanish a racialized language and frequently weaponized against the majority of individuals who speak it, U.S. Latinos and Latin American immigrants. ‘It’s the language of the help,’ I once heard someone say.

Hillary replicated what most Latinos already do, which is being bilingual and bicultural. However, Latinos are not afforded the enchantment Hilaria has received. In fact, I reckon that bending over backward to excuse Hilaria’s lies has nothing to do with her bilingualism and everything to do with her being a White woman who has once again leveraged her privilege for capital gain. This time, she packaged herself as a Spaniard, the most palatable of Spanish speakers. And now that the lie has been uncovered, she has transitioned into the exotic White person who has learned to fluently speak another language. Hence, this story doesn’t seem like a big deal to some because of America’s fascination with its White speakers of a foreign language. The hypocrisy is evident: Spanish from Spain, good; Dominican Spanish, bad; Bilingual U.S. Latino, bad; Bob I-Studied-Abroad-For-A-Semester, worshipped.

Dr. Nelson Flores and Dr. Jonathan Rosa, both associate professors at UPenn and Stanford, respectively, have written extensively about raciolinguistic ideologies, including the notion that bilingual Latinos are deemed less intelligent than their Caucasian counterparts. They write:

“We argue that people are positioned as speakers of prestige or non-prestige language varieties based not on what they actually do with language but, rather, how they are heard by the white listening subject. Valdés and Geoffrion-Vinci (1998) provide us a point of entry into illustrating this claim through their description of Estela, a second-generation Chicana from Texas who grew up speaking English and Spanish, has a BA in Spanish, and is a ‘doctoral student in a Spanish literature department at a prestigious university’ (p. 473). Despite these bilingual experiences and academic credentials, some of Estela’s professors described her Spanish as ‘limited’ and question the legitimacy of her admission to the doctoral program. Meanwhile, some of her fellow students laughed when she spoke Spanish in class. Valdés and Geoffrion-Vinci face significant difficulty when they seek to identify the specific linguistic issues involved in the stigmatization of Estela’s Spanish: When pressed to describe what they perceive to be her limitations, Estela’s professors can give few details . . . Most of the faculty agree that Estela’s written work . . . is quite competent. Still, there is something about her speech that strikes members of the Spanish department faculty as not quite adequate and causes them to rank her competence even below that of Anglophones who have acquired Spanish as a second language. (p. 473). Estela has clearly enjoyed a great deal of academic success, and yet her professors continue to ‘hear’ her as having linguistic deficits that they cannot quite identify.’”

In my own professional experience as it pertains to the Spanish language, I look no further than academia to observe how being Spaniard or a Spanish speaking White American will get you hired before any bilingual U.S. Latino who is equally qualified. Thus, the fascination extended to Hillary is only perpetuating a racially linguistic bias that favors some individuals at the expense of others. The bilingual competence of Latinos will always be questioned as underscored by Flores and Rosa (2020).

For some of you, the lies of Hillary Baldwin may be of no consequence, worth un pepino. But for those of us who have struggled with linguistic insecurity, contended against the mocking of having an accent and the perpetual skepticism about our bilingual education, Hilaria is not only a farce, but a painful reminder of how our society glamorizes some, while marginalizing others.

So, when Joseph Epstein published an opinion piece in the WSJ where he insults the incoming first lady, Dr. Jill Biden for rightfully using her title, rather than being outraged, I was unperturbed. And even when the mockery from those who agreed that the title “Doctor” should be exclusively reserved for those in the medical field ensued, I reacted in typical New York fashion: shrugging, unimpressed. I wish I could say that the WSJ piece was an isolated case of a diatribe on a seemingly slow news day. However, Epstein’s essay is symptomatic of a larger problem, that of disdain for the ambitiously educated woman, moreso if she is a woman of color.

Hostility toward those of us with doctorates manifests itself in different ways. From a supposed innocuous joke in the shape of the question, “what job can you do with that?” to the more blatant “what a waste of time that must’ve been!” The contempt for those of us who chose to pursue doctorates is real, palpable.

In the non-academic workforce, I have been told that I am “overqualified” for certain jobs and that in order to make my resume more “palatable” and less “intimidating,” I should drop the doc. I have also been told that having my title on my resume might signal a prohibitive pay rate for the hiring entity, despite that the national median rate for entry-level professors in colleges and universities is approximately 70K a year.

During a non-academic job interview, a job I was most certainly qualified to do, I was asked why I had not listed the title of my dissertation on my resume. When I politely said that I was unaware that non-academic job postings required such, the person insisted on account of being curious. As I explained my scholarly pursuits to the interviewer, she became increasingly irritated when she didn’t understand. I did not get a callback, and the thought that I might have been set up to fail has always lingered.

When I worked for New York State government, the running joke was that individuals with Ph.Ds were “recovering academics.” Some individuals whom I reported to would go so far as to task me with duties such as ordering food, proofreading documents and completing data entry, what labor research scholars call “office housework.” When opportunities for upward mobility in the career ladder would open, I was merely an afterthought. Those same individuals, mostly younger than myself, were granted tremendous decision-making power. I intuit they must have taken much pleasure in giving someone with a doctorate the “grunge work.” And whereas I am not one to explicitly state my credentials when I am introduced to people, the aforementioned individuals were quick to conveniently invoke my title to purport they have hired the most qualified candidate of the pool. Hence, the title of doctor seemed to bear some weight, even if it was for the sake of optics or prestige by association.

The opportunity gap for Latinas with doctorates seems to widen in academia, where we supposedly “belong,” as research shows that the number of tenured or tenure-track Latina faculty members in the United States holds at a dismal 4%. Given my own experience in academia, U.S. born Latinas find ourselves at the bottom of the totem pole, notably in departments such as languages and bilingual education, since it’s standard practice for colleges and universities to import talent from abroad. The 4% is flawed because if this number is parsed to account for U.S. born Latinas, I am certain our representation dwindles. And this is not to say that my fellow hermanas hispanas are not worthy of opportunity. I am saying that in certain departments where the requirement is to be fluent Spanish speakers, the chance of bilingual U.S. Latinas to get hired is slim. We live in a linguistic hierarchy that favors the Peninsular norm.

As I reflect on Dr. Feliciano’s words, my upbringing, the WSJ, and my career path, I cannot help but wonder if it was all worth going through such an arduous and challenging endeavor. Nevermind that I am a good bilingual teacher, writer, researcher. Nevermind that my first qualifying exam entailed a two-day process, split into four hours for each of the four topics I was being tested on (and no, it was not an open book test in case you are tempted to diminish this effort). Nevermind that my dissertation proposal took me a year to write, with another year to write the dissertation itself. Our society prides itself in selling the idea that education and hard work are the tenets to attaining the American dream, coupled with the proverbial bootstrap theory at the core of this hard sell. Thus, by this measure, obtaining a Ph.D. should be celebrated, if only for our discipline and strong work ethic. If we are to tout as a society that education is the key to upward mobility, then we must start by treating those with a Ph.D., especially our Doctoras, with respect.

El Cantante, the music biopic about the life and times of Fania salsa star Héctor Lavoe, opens with Jennifer López playing the singer’s wife. One scene is premised on Lavoe’s frequent and chronic tardiness, going amiss, with her being the only person to know his whereabouts. Before leaving her lavish apartment to get him for yet another delayed performance, she does one final wardrobe check in the mirror. Her snug red dress matches her lipstick and shoes. She totes a plush fur coat, and her gold namesake necklace completes the look. “Puchi,” it twinkles.

She gets into her limo, driving past the posh residences and shops of Midtown Manhattan, over the Willis Avenue Bridge*, and into the South Bronx of the 1980s. Impervious to the bleak surrounding, she struts past the lingering phantoms of Roberto Moses’ urban blight and into an abandoned brownstone where Héctor is high on heroin. Salsa beats are strung together by a violin solo.

This scene gives me chills every time I watch El Cantante. It takes me back to a time when I was an open-mouthed child watching my aunts get ready for a night out in town. They donned hot fuchsia Joujou pants and shiny strappy sandals, even in the winter. And despite my grandmother’s warnings about the dangers of The City, there was no stopping them. They were New Yorkers. Every night, I would eagerly count down to my eighteenth birthday, the day I would follow in the stilettos of my aunts. I too would someday strut the streets of this grand city.

Now as an adult and in casual conversation with friends, I have seemed to coin the channeling of one’s inner Puchi to describe Latina grit. Whenever I had a job interview, an issue I needed to address with my superior, or any other moment that would tap into my insecurities, as a reminder that I have overcome worse, I channel my inner Puchi. For girls like me, who were born and raised in New York City, we have lived through some tough times, we have seen shit. From the urban decay of the 70s and 80s to the ever-growing income disparity, we have survived it all, and we will prevail.

Which brings me to the pandemic. Many stories are being touted of people moving out under the claim that #NYCisover. I compare such claims to my least favorite childhood book, The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein. You see, these very same gentrifiers, who came into our barrios and drove up the inequalities that have harshly hit many Native Latina New Yorkers, are now announcing their grand exodus. They have taken all they can from The Big Apple, even having the cojones to complain that there is nothing left (to take). Allow me to join in the droves of other Native New Yorkers to bid you ¡Adiós! Please leave swiftly (and quietly, for that matter). We, Latinas born in Nueva York, will continue to channel our inner Puchi and strut our way fearlessly into a new beginning in old New York, as the song goes. We will nurse this city back to life as those who came before us did. And like Puchi, we shall continue to walk in stride, onward, forward, and ever upward.

*Leon Ichaso’s first draft has Puchi driving into Loisaida (Avenue C in Manhattan’s East Village or Alphabet City, as it is sometimes called. However, in the movie she is clearly going into the South Bronx).

Dr. Ferreira was born, raised, and still lives in New York City’s Washington Heights. She lost her full-time job as a CUNY clinical lecturer due to budget cuts. Dr. Ferreira is currently channeling her inner Puchi while searching for a job.