“Everyone here is, like, browner than me and, like, speaking Spanish.”
At 16, on a trip to visit family in Mexico City, Christine Suggs struggled to navigate all aspects of their identity.
“I think intersectionality was a very powerful term for me to learn about,” Suggs said. “I'm half white, half Mexican, I'm bisexual, I'm genderqueer, I'm fat. And so all of those things affect each other and affect how people see me.”
Suggs’ graphic novel, "¡Ay, Mija! My Bilingual Summer in Mexico," is a coming-of-age story told through the lens of the Oak Cliff author’s experiences.
Being queer in East Texas
Suggs knew they were different from a young age.
“My first crush was Jasmine from the animated "Aladdin" movie,” Suggs said. “The way I figured it out was like, well, I feel weird when she kisses Jafar, and I know I'm not into him, and so, like, that's as far as my brain would let me go.”
But growing up in conservative Longview, Texas, Suggs struggled to openly explore their sexuality and gender identity.
“The one out gay kid at school would get beat up almost every year, like it just was not a safe place,” Suggs said.
Suggs also was raised by two Catholic parents. Their mother, Laura Suggs, grew up in a Mexican household that never discussed topics like sexuality. Gender fluidity was a new concept to her and something she didn’t quite understand.
“I’m Catholic, and I know my parents, how they are,” they said. “So it's been a difficult, understanding path. It just has taken time, but we're trying, you know, we're trying.”
Looking back, Suggs feels they could have confided in their parents because of their close relationship. But at the time, Suggs still wasn’t comfortable admitting they were queer to themselves. Now, at 29, Suggs feels more comfortable.
But Suggs sometimes still feels stuck between two communities, not belonging in either. “To most people, they see a woman, and they see a straight woman because I'm married to a man,” Suggs said, “I just, I'm bisexual, but I happened to fall in love at 18.”
More than speaking Spanish
The color of their skin, their last name and their inability to speak Spanish left Suggs feeling like they were never quite “Mexican enough,” they said.
Suggs’ dad is white and their mom was born and raised in Mexico city, another thing that left Suggs feeling like they were from two different worlds. At 16, their Spanish was limited to what they learned in high school Spanish classes, and it wasn’t enough to hold a conversation. So when Suggs made that first solo trip to Mexico, they found it difficult to connect with their family.
“I couldn’t make jokes, which is such a big part in how I talk to people,” Suggs said. “You almost become a different person, and you feel like you’re not showing them the real you.”
The guilt and shame of being Mexican and not speaking Spanish has subsided since their teenage years. But that transformation is a feeling Suggs and their editor wanted to resonate with readers of the book. That’s why Spanish is featured in the novel without translation.
Liz Kossnar, a senior editor at Little, Brown and Co. and editor of Suggs’ book, said they wanted readers to go on the same journey as 16-year-old Suggs and hopefully pick up a word or two in the language.
“I thought it was a really powerful idea of making the audience, whether they know Spanish or not, get to a place of being familiar with seeing Spanish and reading Spanish,” she said.
Although still unable to speak Spanish, Suggs is at a place where they feel it’s OK if they don’t know the language.
“I am trying to cultivate a new relationship with Spanish and, like, accepting like, ‘OK, I might not ever be fluent,’ ” Suggs said. “But you know, I'm trying to connect with it in my own way.”
Creating representation and empathy
From the exploration of different identities to the navigation of one’s belonging, Suggs has mastered a whirlwind of emotions since the age of 16. They don’t allow their inability to speak Spanish, their white skin or their non-Hispanic last name to determine how Mexican they are. Plus, Suggs is openly queer and happy.
Since the release of their novel, Suggs has received responses from readers relating to their experience.
“I've heard some great stories of people, you know, reading this with their moms, or you know, being in the same boat of not having a Mexican last name or not speaking the language and just feeling recognized,” they said.
It was important for Suggs to create representation for both biracial and queer people because it was something they didn’t have much of growing up in the early 2000s. They hope their work can be a beacon of light to those that find themselves going through similar experiences.
“I think it has a real potential to cultivate, like, both relatability and empathy,” Suggs said. “And I think that's why diverse stories are so important.”
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This community-funded journalism initiative is funded by the Better Together Fund, Carol & Don Glendenning, city of Dallas OAC, Communities Foundation of Texas, The Dallas Foundation, Eugene McDermott Foundation, James & Gayle Halperin Foundation, Jennifer & Peter Altabef and The Meadows Foundation. The News and KERA retain full editorial control of Arts Access’ journalism.
