This Ain't Just Newsies No More ~ Sprace & Javid

Author's Note

I told you I was going to take a full page to talk about what the last chapter means to me, so...here it is. If you want to skip it, that's okay with me. This is just explaining why Race's heritage is so important, with something maybe as heart-wrenching as the heartfelt conversation between Spot and Race. I don't know how long of short this will be. Let's begin, shall we? If you're still reading, that is.

My great-grandfather was the first of his family to be born in America. He was born in 1898, and had four older siblings. Then he had even more siblings after him. My family has all different stories of where they came from, but it's very scattered and limited, considering how my parents and my grandparents have all been born in the US, with different levels of immigrating ancestors behind them. And some of my ancestors that they talk about sound really cool. But out of all stories of my great-grandparents and older, hearing that my great-grandfather's family came from Italy was the coolest thing ever. And then I learned that they came from Sicily. All the better! My great-grandfather died before I was born, so I mostly just have stories from my dad about him, and whatever my grandmother or grandfather could say about him. I love foreign names. I love how they tell a story of their own, a story that we don't hear as often in the US. And, sadly, names get Americanized. Any name, from any ethnicity or race. My great-grandfather's name was Giovanni. And I know that it's a common name in Italy. To me, that sounds like one the coolest names ever. His older sisters have amazing names like Gaetanna and Antonina and Letteria; then his older brother Rosario, all names getting Americanized in some form. I'm told that there's an old photograph of one of those siblings and I look like them reincarnated. I wish I can see it. I try learning whatever I can about my great-grandfather and his family, or about Italy or Sicily, so I can feel closer to the family I never knew.

So, sooner or later, I was bound to come across articles about how Italians were treated in the US when they first immigrated. And, according to the internet, "Italiophobia" is, or at least was, a real thing. Because when Italians came to the US, out of all the European immigrants, they had it the worst. One thing I learned is that people from Italy, Greece, Hungary, Poland, Slavic countries, and more, weren't considered "white" by other Americans yet, so by disassociating with their culture and trying to be more like the "pure white race" they could become real Americans. And it's true that Italians were getting lynched often--from 1890 to 1920 there were about 50 lynchings of Italians documented. The worst part is that I found part of an article written in 1891 (I think) for the New York Times, starting out by writing, "These sneaking and cowardly Sicilians, the descendants of bandits and assassins," and saying a bunch of other things, including "our own rattlesnakes are as good as citizens as they" and other things and I started crying because these were my ancestors they were talking about, and I felt so sad because this is what people thought of them. And this was a real newspaper article. This was the world that my great-grandfather was brought into, his family was from Sicily, and just because they were from Sicily, there was a set opinion about them. I can't even imagine what it would have been like. I don't know if they faced a lot of discrimination, or a little, I don't know who exactly I could ask about what it was like for them.

This probably is why they all had to change their names. Not only did they change their last name because people kept saying it wrong, they went by other names; like Giovanni became John and Gaetanna became Anna and Letteria to Lillian and so forth; because yes, those were in fact the American version of their beautiful Italian names, but it was easier to fit in that way. My great-grandfather didn't learn that much Italian. So, my grandmother didn't learn that much Italian, my dad didn't learn Italian, and so I didn't learn Italian. My Sicilian and Italian roots were lost in time and the pressure to fit in.

One day, because me and my friend (who is both queer and has Italian ancestry like me) couldn't spend too much time together in our busy schedules, we set one day where we went on an outing, just around the city. We went to the (BIG) public library, and we're both interested in genealogy, so of course we went to the genealogy section. One section of books caught my eye: a bunch of volumes with the historical records of Italians coming to America from the 1890's to early early 1900's. Since we both had Italian ancestry, we were like "LET'S FIND OUR ANCESTORS!" and they flipped to a random page in a random volume of the HUGE (over 14 volume) collection and instantly found their last name. I didn't have that easy of luck. I looked through volumes that were around the time they would have immigrated, and tried finding the names, but no luck. Then I had a smart moment and decided to look in the index for names. And right there was my great-great-grandfather, and a page number for where his name was in the records. And that's when I found my family. Paolo and his wife Mattia, along with their kids Rosario, Antonina, Letteria, and Gaetanna, from Messina, Sicily, Italy, going to New York, America. I took a picture of the names in the book. That was just THE COOLEST THING EVER. I felt connected to my roots. In one song by Māhealani Uchiyama, a music goddess with both Pasifika and Shona music, she has one song called Walk In Balance. Listen to it. It is very therapeutic. Anyway, in the song, well, it's more of a talk than a song. But still very peaceful and amazing. In it, she talks about her childhood, and finding kids from all over the world, and she would ask them: "Where are you from? Where is your mountain? Where is your river? How did you get here?" and she would give answers that she heard. And for the 'how did you get here' question? "My great, great, grandfather came by boat, to Ellis Island. They left the poverty of their homeland to start a new life here." And that spoke to me, because that's how the Italian immigrants came here, by boat, to Ellis Island, and it was my great-great-grandfather coming with his family from the poverty of Sicily at the time. And yet again, I felt closer to them.

Most of all, these are the people that look like me. True, technically there are a lot of people that look like me, but not in this way.  These are the people who I have common ancestors with. All the more reason to learn about Italy. I'm trying to learn the language, the beautiful language, and listen to the songs, the beautiful songs. And someday, I want to travel the world, and travel to Sicily, and all of Italy. I got the Sicilian/Italian phenotype by chance. From other research I've done, Italian genes are slippery (my words haha) in the genome and don't come through the genotype as much. I tan super easily, my dark hair curls easily in humidity, and I have the almond shaped brown eyes. My grandmother was half-Italian from her father, so she has the always olive-tan skin. And when I find pictures of Italians, I find people that look either like her, or like me. So, I want to go to Sicily, where I can find people like me, and connect to the land and the culture and the people, and finally get a true sense of where I come from.

Thanks for listening. Or...reading, haha. If you're still here. Well, now you know my story. Or at least part of it. When I learned that Racetrack Higgins is Italian, and the story is set in 1899, I thought of my great-grandfather. And it added to one of the things I love about Racetrack. Also, I found somewhere that Max Casella is of Italian descent too, so that just increased everything as well.

I believe that all people need is education, about everything. Maybe, if we all tell our stories, and the stories that belong to those who came before, we can come closer to understanding one another. Read Ishmael by Daniel Quinn. E Ala Ē. Walk In Balance. And  maybe the world will be a better place, and the world live as one.

Tell your story. Do you have any Italian blood, or just a fascination for Italy? Or do you have some ancestry that to you is just so cool, no matter how unique or commonplace it comes from? Please, tell your story. Here, or anywhere. Change and understanding starts with us.

I love all of you who are reading this. <3

Please, no homophobia, profanities, hate etc in the comment section.

Best,

~Your Beloved Author (who is really, really, REALLY proud to have Sicilian and Italian roots and ancestors)