A Mexican-born, ethnic Arab/German with an American passport reflects on his cultural identity while in Berlin
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Editor’s note: this blog is part of a series of first person essays about identity written by UTEP honors students during the Spring 2013 semester.
The cold air penetrated the visible skin between my gloves and my jacket as I hurried up a long flight of stairs to catch the train to work in direction Alexanderplatz. My breath, warm and visible, was seeping through my scarf and mixing with the melting delicate snowflakes that were coming down from the heavens. It was a cold winter morning, typical Berlin. Once inside the train, I found a seat and rapidly put on my headphones to have “my 15-minute concert” of the usual British Rock bands that make me wish I had a similar accent so I could use words like “daft” or “trousers” and the occasional “Oi!” without people looking at me weird for having an American accent. Two stations away from my destination, a young couple with a child sat next to me.