Shinnformation Station

“Our life is a constant journey, from birth to death. The landscape changes, the people change, our needs change, but the train keeps moving. Life is the train, not the station.” Paulo Coelho

Not Enough

Published by

Joshua Shinn

November 1, 2024

I wrote this in 2001, while I was at California State University, San Bernardino. That was when I first began to articulate the mixed-race identity I had been trying to navigate. I’m half-white and half-Mexican, and I spent much of my youth bounding between California and Missouri, two vastly different places and cultures.

Missouri, where I was born, was filled with county traditions, family gatherings, and outdoor living that birthed my appreciation, love, and need for the outdoors. California, specifically SoCal, felt like a vibrant mecca of diversity, the place where my appreciation, love, and need for diversity truly took root. Both places had much to offer. However, both places also had those who viewed mixed as something to be shunned– like dirty water.
Missouri has a longstanding history of racism as a slave state, so anything other than white, conservative, Christian is a threat, so they ostracize and demean. California has a longstanding history with Mexico, so many 1st-generation Mexicans in SoCal believe subsequent generations of Mexicans are too gabacho (white Americans)– too blanqueado (whitewashed), asimilado (assimilated), perdido en la cultura blanca (lost in white culture)–so they ostracize and demean.

It baffled and embittered me to see how people with whom I shared cultural heritage wanted to marginalize me because I didn’t look like completely them or speak completely like them. For some ignorant reason, “purity” mattered. They wanted “real” whites or “real” Mexicans, and since I wasn’t pure, I was never “real.” I began to feel a simmering resistance toward both groups who dismissed me. It’s one of the main reasons I despise racists. As Tupac once said, “Fuck your bitch [racists] and the clique you claim!” Racists are the worst sort of humans. You didn’t do shit to earn your misplaced sense of superficial “pride”; you were the result of a genetic randomness– we are all. Pride comes from purpose and action, not genetic purity or varying levels of melanin, bigots.

This poem was the first time I found my voice on those matters.

Not Enough

____________________________________________________________________________________

I’ve never been white enough, nor have I been brown enough for someone who thinks they know what enough of me should be.

Yes, I don’t speak Spanish, but nor does the majority of second generation Mexicans.

Yes, I was raised in the Midwest with

A white father

A white family

And white values

But, does that disqualify me for being me: Mexican?

Or on the other hand, just because my skin is brown, yet not brown enough for the Mexicans but too brown for the whites

And my hair black

Eyes brown

And mother Mexican

Does this disqualify me for being me: white?

That’s me: a mix, half white and half Mexican and shunned by both because

I’m too much of one and

Not enough of the other-

Am I my own race? My own culture? Maybe my own person. That’s good enough: a person. Unique, just like the 100% Mexican or the 100% white

Still unique. My experiences are what make me different

Now, I know that what is different is misunderstood. And what is misunderstood is feared.

Is that it?

Do you fear me? At least that commands respect!

Is that it?

You don’t respect me? What did I do to loose your respect?

Be born? At least born mix.

And if you do respect me, why do you still ridicule?

Because it makes you feel good

and me

inadequate.

Are you still listening? Were you born perfect? Obviously I wasn’t. But what is perfection?

On a test it’s 100%

And since I’m 50/50, do I fail?

Fail at what?

Not life because I’m still

Living, Learning, Loving

And you still

Ridiculing, Criticizing, and Demoralizing

So maybe I pass and you fail.

At least in life, because we know that it is the first three that count.

And since we’re on the subject of counting,

How many times do you have to remind me of who I am not:

“Not Mexican”

“Not White”

“Not Enough”

why don’t you start telling me who I am-

I think that’s the problem:

You don’t know who I am.

You don’t even know who you are. Is that why you spend so much time on me?

The Mexican

The White

The Mix.

That’s me-

And I’m glad you noticed.

Welcome!

This is Shinnformation Station! My name is Joshua Shinn, and, yes, I named this place Shinn + Information + Station = Shinnformation Station. I admit is sounds like some children’s programming similar to Captain Kangaroo or Reading Rainbow, but for reasons unknown, the name tickles me to no end. It scratches some happy itch in my brain and makes me smile, and that’s what matters, so I went with what I love.

For the longest time I have wanted to create a hub for stories, mental exploration, lessons learned, and memories made, especially since I am growing older and many of my stories are getting further in the rearview mirror– and what better place than a station? Station has multiple meanings. One meaning is “channel,” which this is; one meaning is “position” or “situation,” which there is some of that here, too, since I will share my perspectives on any number of subjects and experiences; but the meaning that is preeminent here is “depot,” like a train station. My late father, Kermit Shinn, used to work for Union Pacific Railroad in Kansas City, so I have always loved trains. They represent for me, my father, but trains also represent the American spirit, industry, adventure, and freedom. Shinnformation Station, then, represents a blend of nostalgia, introspection, and discovery.

This is a place where I get to write precisely how I desire. I’ve been told by many I should publish– poems, articles, essays, even books. I’ve dabbled, but never fully pursued it. I’ve been offered contracts (I’ve had one unsigned in my file cabinet for years) , but I never committed. Insecurity admittedly slows me, but passion is what really stops me. My words and ideas are my own. Publishers don’t want my words or ideas; they want their version of my words and ideas, the ones they believe will sell. I want none of that. The only time I’ve ever sold is when the words were wholly mine.

The words here will be wholly mine. I’m working to collect my previous writing and experiences, hoping to preserve the best of myself and my wife for our children. A child craves nothing more than a parent’s presence, especially when they are gone. So when that day comes, my hope is that this will serve as a portrait of who we were beyond what photos and videos capture. Images may record moments, but they don’t reveal our depth of character, thought, and emotion the way words can. Words alone hold the unique quality of conveying essence. It’s why God gave Himself to us in words.

Welcome to my word station– my Shinnformation Station. The name may be playful, much like I’ve often been in life, but the purpose is sincere: to explore and express the best of who I can become through words.