OPINION: For Mexican-Americans, tie to Mexico is complicated

Ruben Navarrette Jr. is a columnist for the San Diego Union-Tribune.

Facebook encourages users to display their relationship status. For those who don't quite feel comfortable with "single" or "married," there's a more mysterious option: "It's complicated." As an American of Mexican heritage, that sums up my relationship with Mexico.

It's complicated. Just how complicated is something I've been thinking about a lot in recent weeks, leading up to the kickoff of Hispanic Heritage Month - Sept. 15 to Oct. 15.

Meanwhile, Mexicans are celebrating both the 200th anniversary of Mexico's independence from Spain and the 100th anniversary of the beginning of the Mexican revolution that ousted dictator Porfirio Diaz.

All this is happening against the backdrop of what has become the nation's most unpleasant export: a continuing stream of horrible stories about wanton violence linked to President Felipe Calderon's attempts to eradicate powerful and ruthless drug cartels. With more than 28,000 people dead and the loss of billions of tourism and foreign investment dollars, it's clear that Mexico is undergoing yet another defining moment.

On this side of the border, the question for Mexican-Americans like me is, how much should we care? For more than 150 years, Mexican-Americans have been considered cultural outliers because they're seen as "Mexican" here and "American" in Mexico - connected to both countries but not accepted in either.

In the past couple of decades, there's been a new breed: Mexican nationals who - as part of the professional class - preserve their citizenship while making their livelihoods in the United States. These are people of means and education who were born in Mexico and came to the United States for greater opportunities, while remaining loyal to their homeland. They speak English and Spanish, and feel equally comfortable on either side of the border. They know exactly who they are, and that their homeland is Mexico.

I heard from some of these expatriates recently when I criticized Mexicans for overreacting to, of all things, a cartoon about the drug violence. American cartoonist Daryl Cagle came under fire in Mexico after drawing a Mexican flag with a twist. The flag features an eagle perched on a cactus, devouring a snake. In Cagle's version, a slain eagle is in the center, riddled with bullet holes and lying in a pool of blood.

When I asked why Mexicans weren't less concerned with airing dirty laundry and more concerned with washing it, the critics turned on me. On my Facebook page, Mexicans in the United States called me a "gringo racista" (a white racist) and showered me with pity for not belonging "on either side."

I beg to differ. I belong on this side. Like most Mexican-Americans, my family's story started to get interesting when grandpa was expelled from Mexico with hundreds of thousands of others during the Mexican revolution. My loyalties are with Team USA.

After all, Mexico is no model of fairness. For the fair-skinned, wealthy and connected, the country works fine. But for millions of others, it doesn't work at all, and many of them come north - in my grandfather's case, legally, but in the case of many others, often illegally. Their descendants can be forgiven for not having the highest regard for a country that cast their parents and grandparents adrift.

Yet, as I look south to the fiestas celebrating Mexico's bicentennial, I'm reminded once again of the beauty and wonder embodied in the country and people my grandfather left behind. I'm also reminded that it is a strong and resilient country that has endured much over the centuries, and so it is likely to survive its current ordeal as well. Those are qualities that I respect and admire.

It makes for a complicated relationship.