False Consciousness: A Personal Reflection

After reading the play Mask Dance which contains themes about how the adopted orphans transition from false consciousness to double consciousness, I begin to wonder and reflect on my own life. Although I am one quarter Hispanic, I know virtually nothing about my heritage and feel as though I look, behave, and am treated as white. Is this the result of my own false consciousness or self-denial?

My dad, being half Hispanic and a third generation American, claims himself as white on surveys or other documents. Why would he deny half of his cultural heritage? It’s not that he is ashamed or has been discriminated against because of his race. He merely feels like me – that he simply maintains a “white” lifestyle due to his lost Hispanic heritage. Much like the adopted children in Mask Dance who have been assimilated to the modern American culture, our heritage is foreign to us. While Carl, Karen, and Lisa are able to return to Korea, their home country, I do not know if I will ever know where my dad’s Hispanic side of the family comes from.

I think the problem goes back to the fact that my grandfather refused to tell my dad about his past or how my grandfather’s parents crossed the border of Mexico into Texas. There was some sort of secrecy among the family, some aspect of their culture which silenced my grandfather’s stories from being told. Was it fear, shame, or oppression that silenced them? They were a racial minority after all. Regardless, the story of my distant relatives’ emigration ended with my grandfather. Perhaps his reluctance to share his story was a sign of false consciousness, his own denial of his heritage. But his denial affected more than just himself. His false consciousness transcended generations so that my dad and I are unaware of our heritage.

I think this is an important lesson. We talk a lot in class about the sixth tenet of Critical Race Theory, about how we all have a unique story to share. But what about silencing? Although stories can leave a lasting memory, the mute voices of the oppressed can shape us too. But they are unnoticed, passive - they don’t tell a story, they let others tell an altered view of history. And this, I think, is a mistake.