10/15/2025
Heritage should be pride—but in a country that’s used identity as control, it’s never that simple. I hold both truths: the pride and the pain.
My great-grandfather, Julius Benigno Diaz (nicknamed Ben), was born July 30, 1896 in Sombrerete, Zacatecas, Mexico—a small mining town colonized by Spain in 1555.
He was born into a musical family—his Tío Pablo ran a local orchestra and taught all the boys mandolin. My great-grandfather was a talented musician and painter.
This was home. Family. Culture. Music filling the streets. And then came the revolution.
The Mexican Revolution (1910-1920) brought violence, famine, and forced conscription. Young men faced impossible choices: join federal troops, join rebel armies, or flee.
In 1914, at 17, Ben fled to El Paso, Texas to escape the violence—living with relatives who also fled.
Back in Sombrerete, his father Felipe wrote letters describing the starvation, illnesses, and violence they endured. The war didn't just displace those who left—it devastated those who stayed.
Ben became a painter in El Paso, then moved to Philadelphia by 1920. Meanwhile, his Tío Pablo and the rest of the family remained in Zacatecas—preserving the music, the language, the roots.
Today, our cousin Yesenia and many other still live in Nieves, Zacatecas—descended from Pablo. Many of our cousins are still musicians. The culture Ben left behind continued, carried forward by those who stayed.
Two branches. One family. Different survival strategies.
Identity as a Tool for Control
The US has always used racial categories to allocate power and resources.
• Slavery and the 3/5ths Compromise
• Anti-miscegenation laws
• Jim Crow segregation
• Japanese internment
• Gerrymandering and ICE surveillance
The same systems that demand we define ourselves use that data to control and divide us.
The Shifting Definition of White
- 1930: Mexicans counted as a separate "race"—marked as inferior during mass deportations and heightened xenophobia.
- 1940: Reclassified as “white” after community advocacy.
But this wasn’t liberation—it was survival.
Claim whiteness for protection or face discrimination.
Whiteness isn’t biological—it’s a gate that opens and closes depending on who holds power.
Life in Philly
By 1920, Ben lived in Philadelphia's immigrant-filled neighborhoods, working at a printing press.
He was fluent in English and Spanish, and family lore says he picked up more languages from his neighbors—a polyglot navigating a new world.
In the 1950s, he joined the Anahuac Club, a Mexican American community organization supporting fellowship and history between Latinos in the city.
He was building community. Holding onto identity. Even as the pressure to assimilate intensified.
Love + Resistance
My great-grandfather married my great-grandmother, Dorothy Humphreys.
Thirty states then banned in*******al marriage.
Those in power decided who was ‘white enough.’
Their union was both love—and resistance inside a violent hierarchy.
My grandfather, Donald Philip Díaz, was born in 1930 in Philadelphia, PA. He married at 18 and changed his last name to Humphreys—maybe to honor family, maybe to escape discrimination.
That change shaped generations.
A family-man, technical copywriter, entrepreneur, and philanthropist in small-town Michigan he transformed survival into legacy.
Neither man was perfect. Both wrestled with identity and internalized racism—products and survivors of their time. But they built family, love, and community that endure.
This is the nuance: harm and love, survival and sacrifice, assimilation and resistance—all living side by side.
The Hispanic Heritage Month Paradox
We celebrate heritage in a nation that:
• Used identity to enslave
• Criminalized in*******al love
• Forced language loss and assimilation
• Built walls—literal and ideological
Today, we celebrate our pride while still fighting for our rights— to speak our languages, love freely, migrate safely, and exist without apology.
Heritage isn’t Simple
I am white. I benefit from systems that still oppress Latinos—systems my ancestors once navigated to survive.
They married white women—acts both radical and assimilationist. I inherited changed names, stolen tongues, survival strategies, and the ongoing fight to reclaim what was erased.
I carry the lineage, not the lived discrimination. My role is to honor, advocate, and resist the colonial systems they fled.
What Gets Preserved?
Whose story gets told—and by whom?
What language survives?
Whose food, warmth, and memories get passed on?
Reclaiming culture means acknowledging what was stolen and what was sacrificed.
It means leaning into family—blood and chosen—to rebuild what colonialism and white supremacy tries to sever.
Pa'lante
Heritage isn’t corporate logos or Taco Tuesday allyship.
It’s fighting for immigrant rights, preserving language + culture, and challenging systems that use identity as control.
It’s honoring nuance—the survival, sacrifice, and resistance that got us here.
Gratitude + preservation
None of this story exists without my family members who saved letters, preserved photos, and maintained contact across borders and generations.
To those who kept the handwritten letters from Felipe describing the violence and starvation in Zacatecas.
To those who held onto baptismal records, family photos, and memories of mandolin lessons with Tío Pablo.
To my cousin Maureen—our family historian and translator—who has pieced together our story with care and dedication.
To our prima Yesenia in Nieves, Zacatecas, and all our family in Mexico who continue to share stories, images, and music with us.
To the ones who wouldn't let the roots be severed completely.
This is the work of love. This is how we resist erasure.
Mil gracias.
Rae, Co-Owner of Más Marketing + Co.
