I was in a very Hispanic neighborhood with my girlfriend on Saturday. She’s petite and of all southern Italian stock, while I’m a big guy of all northern European stock (British Isles, Poland, Germany, Normandy.) We sat down in a Mexican restaurant which was staffed entirely by Mexicans and with a clientele that was entirely Mexican—or Hispanic, at least.
A waitress walks up to the table with a dish of cut radishes and this nice green sauce and starts talking to my girlfriend. She’s a monoglot, though; knows as much Spanish and French as you can learn in a few years of high school. I jumped in and started talking. My Spanish is hardly fluent, but it’s serviceable in restaurants and train stations, and I did all the talking. I didn’t need to, of course, because the waitress did speak English, but I was having too much fun. “I have got to learn Spanish,” she said. “This is embarrassing.” I insisted it wasn’t, that she wasn’t shirking her heritage or any such thing, but I don’t discourage learning languages. I’m a big believer in it.
I often get mistaken for something else—though not so much in America. I lived in France for a year back in college, and it wasn’t apparent to many people what my ethnicity was. My accent while speaking French didn’t have an American drawl to it, but it did sound like my native language was some kind of Germanic language (which is true.) No one took me for French, but I was taken for German a lot, largely because my first name is German and because I’m kind of a big guy. I’d get English often enough, because I’m a big guy and I speak English well. I’d also get taken for an American, which I am, but folks often guess at my background (usually this starts when they discover I know geography pretty well.) In the States, people typically assume I’m American, though on occasion someone figures I’m English (which I don’t get at all; my accent is plainly Midwestern to me) or some kind of European, just because I speak something besides English.
I can also do a marginally convincing Russian accent, which has fooled people before, but no one’s taken me for being Russian when I wasn’t doing it.
I know I’m not the only one this happens to. Anyone have any good mistaken ethnicity stories?
I’m mistaken for Irish a good bit. I’ve got the stereotype red hair and freckles, but I’m about as Irish as, well, a potato. The irony is that Airman is dark-haired and dark-complected and he is Irish.
I have had several people assume I’m Mexican. I’m not. According to my mom, who people also assume is Mexican, we’re of Scotch-Irish descent. I’m fairly pale with hazel eyes and dark brown hair.
No real funny stories, though. Most of the time, when it comes up in conversation, someone will ask me if I’m Mexican, I’ll respond that I’m not, but I love their food, and that’s it. Sometimes in Mexico, some vendors will assume that I speak Spanish based upon my looks. Unfortunately, I sound like a two-year-old when I speak Spanish.
“Want. Give small money?”
My blue-eyed, blonde-haired wife of Scandinavian extraction has a Master’s degree in Spanish and usually leaps to my aid during such predicaments.
My younger brother looks like our Irish/German hillbilly mother’s side of the family, but I’ve been told I look like I just got off the boat (our dad was a Greek immigrant).
Here in Baltimore, I’m often addressed in Spanish by people who apparently think I look hispanic.
Accent-wise, nobody ever guesses I’m from West Virginia – my brothers and I seem to have a strange, hard-to-place accent, probably from hearing such divergent accents growing up. In New York, people tell me I sound southern; in the south, they ask if I’m from Boston.
I wear jeans and cowboy boots pretty much everywhere, which has prompted a number of people to ask if I’m from Texas.
While traveling around Scotland, I was often taken for a Scot. I stayed in B&Bs, and during breakfast people would be talking and generally trashing American politicians. When they got around to asking where I was from, and I replied Connecticut, they always said with amazement You’re American !?!
Once I spent a few months in a Catholic hospital. A sweet, kind nun used to come by every day. She would smile beatifically, pat my cheek, and say “How’s my little Irish girl?”
I have a mixed ethnic background, but as far as I know, not one of my known ancestors has been Irish. Apparently this nun associated red hair and green eyes with Irishness. I tried to tell her that I wasn’t Irish, but I couldn’t speak above a croak, and she was a bit hard-of-hearing. I didn’t even want to get into the fact that I wasn’t Catholic.
Me, my wife, and then two-year old daughter went to France last October. My wife is fluent in French and knows France well. I don’t know any French but I am quiet and don’t fit the stereotype of the ignorant, boorish American at all.
We stayed at this 16th century Mill in the Loire Valley. They had a spectacular small restaurant that we ate at several times. Another American group also ate there pretty frequently.
One night we were sitting at the table eating traditional French food with my little daughter being nice and polite.
This lady, who turned out to be a Doctor, turned to her husband and said “Look at that French family. They are so nice and have so much class. And look at that little French girl just enjoying her plate like an angel. That’s something that you won’t ever see an AMERICAN family doing.”
When we were checking out, she overhead me speaking English and I had to tell her the truth.
Props to you, Shagnasty. I raised my American kids to be polite as well.
So, slightly dark skinned Hispanic here. Can get really dark if I just look out the window. Kinda look like a White person with a tan. Just the other night at a bar a woman guessed I was Russian! That was a first. Usually it’s Italian, Indian, Arab…
Yeah, this is one of my favorite games: Guess Diosa’s nationality/race/etc.
Guesses are usually as follows:
[ul]
[li]Colombian[/li][li]Brazilian[/li][li]Puerto Rican[/li][li]Argentinian[/li][li]Mexican[/li][li]Every other South American country[/li][li]“Middle Eastern” or “Arabian” <-- their words[/li][li]half black[/li][/ul]
Then they give up and I explain that I’m half Italian and half…well, white (Scottish, English, etc).
It’s a good thing I speak Spanish, considering all the people who just assume I am hispanic/latin (well, I technically AM Latin, but you know what I mean).
What ethnicity I get mistaken for usually depends on the ethnicity of the asker. White people assume I’m 100% black, and most are suprised to find out that my dad is a blond haired, blue eyed German. Hispanic people tend to mistake me for hispanic, which has led to some awkward moments where someone asks me a question in spanish and I can’t answer, since even though I took some spanish in school I am terrible speaking the language. I also get hit on in spanish a fair amount, which is an odd experiece since I can tell that I’m being hit on because of their tone but I can’t understand what they’re actually saying. Black people usually pick on the fact that I’m mixed, but they usually don’t ask about it. There is a subset of black guys who think it’s cute to try and pick me up by asking about my ethnicity. Most of the time I don’t mind answering people’s questions about my ethnicity because I know it can be hard to tell what my background is, but when a complete stranger decides that not only do they want to hit on me, but they also want to know my complete racial background, it gets on my nerves.
A three times now I’ve had older Asian ladies ask me if I am Chinese. I’m pale skinned, dark haired, and of French/Italian descent. It’s completely baffling.
