The "Almost" American: A Lesson from a Málaga Sidewalk

An encounter with a fellow American reveals the thin line between a 'minor' joke and the dangerous reality of identity in America.

A scenic Saturday afternoon in downtown Málaga, showing a cobblestone street with historic Mediterra

The historic Catedral de la Encarnación in Málaga, Spain, showcasing its Renaissance architecture an

Vibrant street art mural in Málaga, Spain, featuring a stylized face with expressive, soulful brown

The beauty of flamenco dancing is a must see for all travelers to Spain - especially in Málaga!

Málaga, Spain — Having set out on this Mediterranean journey just a few days before Halloween, it was almost jarring to see full-blown Christmas decorations already festooning the downtown square near the Catedral de la Encarnación. Under the brilliant Saturday sun, every corner felt like a postcard; it turns out Saturdays are the designated days for weddings here, with brides and grooms posing against some of the most scenic backdrops of our trip.

The joys of travel far outweigh the lows, but it was here in Málaga that we had an unfortunate encounter with a fellow American—a guy from Alabama.

“Where y’all from?” he asked, friendly enough.

“El Paso, Texas,” we responded.

If you’re from my hometown, you know you can’t just say you’re from “Texas.” Given the sheer enormity of the state, you must specify where.

“El Paso, huh?” he responded with a chuckle. “That’s almost the US!”

The man laughed at his own joke while my wife and I processed the punchline. Just as I was about to fire back with a smart-assed comment of my own, she shot me the “do not start anything” look. I held my tongue.

The Myth vs. The Reality

For context, El Paso sits right on the US-Mexico border. Depending on your news source, you might perceive it as a lawless, “shoot ‘em up” wasteland full of misfits. The truth is the opposite: El Paso is consistently recognized as one of the safest cities in the United States, anchored by one of the richest cultural histories in the Western Hemisphere.

The margarita was even invented here, for God’s sake.

To call El Paso almost the United States is like telling a group of veterans they sort of fought for our country, or an OBGYN telling a woman she’s kind of pregnant. To tell any US citizen they aren’t quite 100% American is a proverbial slap in the face.

From Minor Slights to Major Injustices

Later that evening, I reflected on his words. He likely didn’t see the harm, perhaps just clumsily referencing our proximity to Mexico. Looking back, being told my hometown is “sort of” in the US is a minor inconvenience compared to what others endure.

While I faced a bad joke, other US-born citizens have been detained and wrongfully removed from the country without due process, largely because of the color of their skin. That is a whole different ballgame.

Learning from the “Been There, Done That” Cultures

How does this tie into traveling or children’s books? Simple: Traveling allows us to learn from cultures that have experienced far more than we have.

In Sicily, a woman on our tour repeatedly referred to Italian architecture from their “fascist era” during WWII. It struck me then that Italy—a country we love for its food and people—was once part of the Axis of Evil. They have “been there, done that”. They managed to navigate that challenging history and come out the other side.

Many believe America is currently navigating its own challenging era. To move forward, we must learn from those who have been there before—and we must learn from our own literature.

Why the Stories We Tell Matter

This is where books come in. The stories we study should reflect the diversity that makes our country great. This means learning from our mistakes as much as celebrating our accomplishments.

My latest book, I’ll Be the Moon – A Migrant Child’s Story, resonates because readers see themselves or their loved ones in that little girl. The dedication of the book says it all: We all come from somewhere. We should never forget that, yet sadly, many have.

We can overcome our complex problems, including immigration, if we look to those who have navigated these waters before. Better yet, buy a ticket and experience the world for yourself.

You can thank me later.

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El Paso, Texas native Phillip D. Cortez is the author of I’ll Be the Moon - A Migrant Child’s Story. He and his wife are the parents of four kids, each possessing the incredible ability to ask for something the moment the game comes back from commercial.

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I'm on Substack now! :)