On Being a Gringa: Race in Quito

by Aliyya Swaby:

Quito is not a diverse city. Most people are either of Latin-American descent or mestizo (meaning they have some indigenous roots mixed in). There are some black people (or enough so that I don’t completely stand out), some white people and very few of Asian descent. My friend Jenna is a host student from Michigan who lives in the same house as I do. She is Korean-American. Whenever we walk down the street, at least one person points to her and says (loudly), “La Chinita,” which basically means “little Chinese girl.” When we went to see a museum exhibit earlier this week, an Ecuadorian man on tour with us turned to her and said slowly in English, “Where are you from? China?” Exasperated, she explained that she was born in Korea but that she is American, and the man looked shocked and a bit disbelieving.

My Ecuadorian host sister Nicole says this is different on the coast of Ecuador, because of the pattern of colonization and subsequent travel of the colonists. The coastal cities and towns are a lot more diverse than Quito, which seems illogical because Quito is a large city of more than 1.5 million people.

“On the coast, there are a lot of black people,” she told me. “Here, at first, people probably think you’re from the coast, and not a gringa.”

I hear the term “gringo” thrown around a lot, mostly jokingly among the Americans I know here or the younger Ecuadorians I’ve met. It’s a disparaging term for non-Spanish speakers, white people, or foreigners (usually Americans). There’s an area called La Mariscal containing many bars and restaurants in Quito that is nicknamed “Gringolandia” because of the large number of Americans who party there.

Everyone gives me advice on how to avoid seeming like a gringa. “Say pasaje instead of boleto when you ask for a ticket at the bus station. Boleto is so gringa,” or “Don’t wear shorts outside. They’ll know you’re a gringa.”

They say this because usually being a gringo means being a target. I know of one American studying at la Universidad San Francisco de Quito who has been robbed twice, once in a taxi after he told the driver some personal information about his background. Here being foreign means having money and that means being robbed or extorted for money.

A sample of the diversity — or lack thereof — on a main street in Quito. (Swaby/TYG)

At first I tried hard to hide my American background, but then I realized it was futile for two reasons: 1) I am foreign and I’m sure it shows no matter how I try to hide it, and 2) though it’s sometimes dangerous, it can actually be useful to be a foreigner.

When I order food at a restaurant, the cashiers speak more slowly and at a more comfortable pace for me. Local Ecuadorians are friendlier to me — they probably view me as someone more vulnerable than they are, instead of as a potential mugger on the rough city streets.

Of course it’s important to keep a good balance between being street smart and being friendly, but I no longer cringe when someone recognizes (from my awkward phrasing or Spanish tinged with an American accent) that I’m not Ecuadorian. I’m a few steps closer to embracing my inner gringa.