My Battles as an Afro-Latino:“Es Negro Pero Fino”

I grew up in Dyckman [we don’t say Inwood] which along with Washington Heights has one of the highest shares of Dominicans living anywhere outside of DR.

Growing up, my “Dominicaness” was questioned because of my complexion despite the majority of baseball stars (whom Dominicans idolize) resembling me. I never understood how you can idolize and look at David Ortiz as Dominican and in the same instance question me. I had to prove I was Dominican by speaking Spanish. “Habla espanol, entonces.” I endured color taunts. And all of that never made me want to embrace my true roots. I would fight back that “I wasn’t black.” I permed my hair. Almost got color contacts. I refused to date anyone that was anywhere near my complexion. I dressed up just to hear the words “morenito fino” [many Dominicans call well-dressed dark-skin men this to insinuate you are “refined black”] because they made me feel better. But what I always understood was that I couldn’t change my skin. And then one day, my dad shocked me when he said that while he is Dominican and a Latino, he is a black man. I argued with him. “You aren’t black.” He sat me down and explained. For the first time in my life, I heard my dad speak about race. And not speak about race in a “maldito negro/prieto” sense because that’s not how he rolls but in a positive manner towards blackness.