It seems that being Spanish has long been preferable to being Black in America. As a school child, teacher asked us to go home and come back the next day ready to rattle off our nationalities. I came back with Irish and Spanish … info garnered from my parents. I saw a US census where my Dad had written “Spain” not “Port of Spain.” POS is the capital of Trinidad and has little in common with the country of Spain. When a nosy landlady in Florida asked my Mom if Dad was Spanish, the answer flew back in the affirmative … otherwise there would have been no housing. I always wondered how my father got into the “White Army.” It seems simple now. Spanish, of course. And, of course, Spain not the relatively new Hispanic. What a very bizarre and sad way for a people to try and survive.