So today in my basic painting class, I found myself in a conversation I’ve had many times before. I wasn’t surprised by the reaction I got, but at the same time, it’s one that I’ve gotten way too many times in the past few years.

“You’re Mexican? Really? 100%? Wow, you don’t look it.” I can tell you right now that this statement has become pretty common for me. It’s not an insult, but it isn’t exactly a compliment either. And I’ve had it vary from disbelief to even pity. The sentiment is the same, though: To most people, I don’t look Hispanic (much less Mexican).

In fact, I think most people meet will think I’m anything but Mexican. I’ve been told I look like I could be Asian more than once. I mean, really? Asian? And not even Filipino either; I’ve gotten Japanese once or twice. But I digress.

I initially thought this was because of stereotypical assumptions and more often than not, they usually are. Most people expect Mexicans to look a certain way and understandably, I probably don’t fit that criteria. The proper term for my light skin is mestizo; look it up if you have to.

Then the more I think about it, the more I realize that in addition to my appearance, my personality probably adds to the general belief that I’m not really Latino. My hair has been blue (twice), I have tattoos, I like rock music. The entire concept behind reggaeton bugs the crap out of me, I didn’t have a quinceanera and I actually had the audacity to move away far away from home. This behavior is thought to be, by both Hispanics and non-Hispanics, to be out of the ordinary for someone of my race. So basically, the more I continue to defy stereotypes, the less Mexican I am to people. Go figure.

But for the people who do know me, I’m pretty freaking Mexican. To a point where it’s probably annoying sometimes. English is my second language, so I’ll often be heard rambling on the phone in Spanish with my mom. I was raised on the border and have been to Mexico more times than I can count to visit family. I was raised on Mexican food from both sides of the border and therefore, can be a bit of an elitist about it sometimes (meaning I don’t like Chiptole that much and I will automatically think less of you if you enjoy Taco Bell).

So, the deal is I’m Mexican. I’m not ashamed of it in any way; it’s a very large part of who I am, if not completely. I say this because I’m pretty sure my notorious caffeine addiction isn’t genetic in any way. It’s okay if you didn’t know this. I wouldn’t expect you to. After years of being questioned (even doubted), I’m not all that offended by it anymore.

And while I can be Dani, the racially ambiguous Northwestern student, I’m still (and always will be) Daniela, the Spanish-speaking, tamale-loving girl from the border.

Medill senior Dani Garcia is the PLAY editor. She can be reached at [email protected].