A fair, clear complexion, coupled with a large stature and professional voice, promotes me to the front—the only male bank teller. To my left is Maria, burdened with the accent of our home country. To my right is Consuela, skin darkened by our shared heritage. Alone we speak in snappy Spanish. With customers nearby, we switch to slow, polite, American English. An officer walks in, hesitates, and heads towards me. “Could you explain this fee, please?” He’s soft-spoken and courteous. I’m happy to solve his issue. “I’m glad you’re here,” he whispers. “These wetbacks don’t know what they’re doing.”
Mexican-born author Germain M. C. grew up in the Southern United States and was unfortunately born to write.