The Westfield Voice

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The Westfield Voice

The Westfield Voice

The Color of Silence: Home away from home

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“At least we don’t live in Springfield.”

I was a commuter and it was my first semester in college. After living in Puerto Rico for 12 years, I moved to Springfield Massachusetts. In the 7 years I’ve lived in the US. I’d never heard anyone speak of my city that way. It wasn’t a coincidence that there weren’t any other people of color in the classroom when my classmate said that. Well, there was one, me. But I don’t “look” like a person of color. Im very pale, my hair is thin, and I don’t have an accent when I speak english. To my classmate, it might even look like I’d agree with them. But that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

I was so overwhelmed with anger, I started staring at them. They just kept talking and talking, and all I could do was stare. I wanted to say ‘I’m from Springfield, is there a problem?’ But I couldn’t say anything. I just stared, hoping they would notice. They didn’t. The conversation moved on and I was just left thinking, ‘Did he mean what I thought he meant?’I think we all know that Springfield has a higher crime rate, whether that’s because of the amount of crime committed or the over policing of minority communities, I’ll keep to myself. But I have a feeling they weren’t referring to the crime, and instead the people. My people.

Passing for white as a hispanic person is just a constant slew of people saying subtly racist things, and expecting you to agree. It wasn’t the last time I heard someone degrade Springfield on campus, it didn’t get easier to hear either.

When I moved to Springfield from Puerto Rico, it was a place that provided me with familiarity in this new environment. The Puerto Rican bakery was right on Armory St, the coffee shop with the nice Egyptian owner on Main and the plethora of loud and happy old Spanish ladies ready to wish me blessings. It made me feel safe and welcome. I’d take bike rides through the Springfield Museums, stop for some books at the library, walk through downtown and see all the different artists painting the block. It’s all I’ve ever seen. So when I hear, “Well at least I don’t live in Springfield,” I wonder, what is it that they’re seeing?

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