Latinx in Publishing is pleased to exclusively reveal an excerpt from All Bones Are White by Carlo Perez Allen, winner of the 2023 Victor Villaseñor Best Latino non-fiction book award from the International Latino Book Awards.
What does it mean to be American?
For a young immigrant boy named Carlo—who was forced to say goodbye to his birth name and country—the answer was a hard one to find.
When Carlo was just five years old, his Mexican mother, Camerina, married a gringo, Bill Allen. Wanting only the best for his three adoptive children, Bill moved his new family across the border. Bags packed and sights set for the sky, they left Mexico and set their sights on none other than the Big Apple.
From the start of this long trek across North America, Carlo's childhood was filled with exciting new experiences, harrowing odds, and cultural backlash.
Detailing one man's personal journey of self-discovery in a foreign land, All Bones Are White offers readers a rare firsthand glimpse into the seemingly insurmountable struggles of the lengthy Americanization process.
Told in Carlo Perez Allen's own words, learn first-hand how one person's identity can be forcefully molded, generalized, and lost within the struggle to obtain the All-American dream.
We arrived in Buffalo to unimaginably cold weather. We had no hats, or scarves, or thermals. Mother wore gloves, but they were simply a fashion statement. We strolled the station, studying our new surroundings. People walked cautiously bundled up with thick Lucha-libre masks, thick coats, hats, and gloves. Cesar found a brown paper bag on a bench and made a mask. He kept us entertained using different voices and making scary sounds until a passerby scoffed at the mask. Mother took it off.
We walked past a large mirror, and I noticed we looked out of place. We were the only Mexicans in sight. Everything blurred, and people moved in slow motion. The loud hissing of the steam engines stopped, and the drone of the crowd faded. We were in a different reality. Then, one image cut through the blurry crowd at a quick pace. We all turned around to see Bill’s smiling face. His friendly image grew closer, and he kissed Mother, whispering something that made her smile. Our hero came to our rescue. There was a collective sigh of relief.
Bill picked me up and held me above everyone else. I instantly felt safe with him in the United States, and I laughed hysterically. Suspended in his arms, I drifted to the memory of the first time Bill picked me up like this. It was in an open field across the street from our new apartment in Mexico. I had been prohibited from playing in the area ever since I came across the body of a dead soldier that smelled like cigarettes and alcohol. Mother and I had waited for Bill on the balcony overlooking the field. Eugenia stood behind me, trying to tame my cowlick while Cesar snuck peanuts from the bowl placed on the coffee table. It was the first day we would all eat together in the new apartment that Bill had rented and given Mother the keys to. It was a second-story apartment with lots of books and an unusual lampshade he had made from a custom ordered tortilla. This real tortilla draped over a lampshade. It was Bill’s sense of humor and ingenuity all in one. Mother glowed with excitement when she spotted Bill across the field. We all waved. I ran out the door, down the stairs, and across the area to greet the man I would call Dad for the rest of my life. I ran so hard I lost a shoe as I reached him. His sparkling blue eyes matched the sky above. And now there I was suspended just like before in the USA.
“Welcome to New York, Charlie,” he spoke in English, unlike in Mexico, where he had spoken in Spanish. His soft voice was music to my ears. I giggled and squirmed in the air, saying, “Que?Que?”
“You have to learn English, and it starts now. From now on, your name is Charlie.” Bill explained something I wouldn’t understand for a long time. “Charles Perez Allen,” he beamed. Charlie? I didn’t understand what Charlie meant nor why Oscar wasn’t going to be my name any longer. “New country, new name.” Bill smiled. “You want to melt right in. A new name will make it easier for you.” Okay, I got it. No crying, no Oscar.
Melt right in. It would be a phrase I’d learn about later as Bill would explain the importance of assimilation. I saw the pride in his smiling face. I felt protected from everything, including that mean man on the train. Losing my name was a small price to pay for the comfort of being loved by this man who wanted to be my father. He put me down and hugged and kissed Eugenia and Cesar before we walked to pick up our luggage. “Eugenia, you are now Mary,” Bill said. “Can you say, Mary?”
“Mary,” Eugenia repeated.
“And you Cesar are now Donald. Can you say, Donald?”
“Donald Duck,” said Don.
“I am Dad,” said Bill. “I am your father now, and you will call me Dad. Do you understand?” The three of us nodded. “Good. We are a family, and we each have a role, a responsibility. It’s like a rowboat, everyone helps make it work. We all have a job. Your mother will take care of our home. My job is to provide for all our needs.” He paused, looked at Mother lovingly, and continued. “And your job is to assimilate, become Americans.” Mother smiled and kissed Bill on the lips.
That was the end of Oscar Perez, Cesar Perez, and Eugenia Perez. From that day on, we were Charles Perez Allen, Donald Perez Allen, and Eugenia Perez Allen.
Excerpted from "All Bones Are White," used with permission from Fluky Fiction., www.flukyfiction.com. (c) Carlo Perez Allen.
Carlo Perez Allen is a recipient of the Victor Villaseñor Best Latino non-fiction book award from the International Latino Book Awards for his debut memoir, All Bones Are White.
He is a member of WGA and SAG, member with feature film, television, and theater credits spanning forty years. He co-wrote the film Home Sweet Hell, Sony Pictures starring Katherine Heigl and Jim Belushi. His recent plays received high praise for strong social commentary on current issues.
He holds BA and MA degrees from U.C. Berkeley and is an AFI film studies graduate. He is proud of his twenty-five years of service as a Los Angeles Unified School District teacher.
His next book, 1851, received a five-star highly recommended award for excellence from the Historical Fiction Company and will be out next year.
