Invisible identities, telling stories and post-colonial gripes (on being a sudaca in The Netherlands)
Being a Latin American immigrant in Northern Europe, a sudaca, a label I very much like for myself (and I’ve been called repeatedly while in Spain, which is where this xenophobic slur was coined), means nobody sees me. I situate myself as a sudaca not only politically but also culturally. However, media only speaks about our countries to highlight some new economic downfall or natural disaster. We just do not seem to live here. As far as media is concerned, the only immigrants in these societies are Muslims (and BAD, in case you need a reminder). Amsterdam has a multitude of South American restaurants (Brazilian, Argentinian and Uruguayan steak houses), yet, 99% of them do not belong to either of these nationals. We are a food group but not a people. We do not fit in contemporary narratives of immigration, integration or assimilation so, we are invisibilized.
I am starting to explore the topic of immigrant identity vs. the prevalent binary of “Muslim” vs. “Dutch”. I am unsure at this point where this will lead (if anywhere).
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