Today, Jairo McMican distinguishes himself as “Blacktino,” an identity that encompasses Black Latin Americans, but he didn’t always.
Growing up, the 47-year-old McMican struggled to carve out his own identity, and that struggle has instilled in him a greater appreciation for cultural differences — something he has put to good use as an educator.
“I’ve gotten to see so many different things in different cultures,” he said. “That helped me develop a healthy appreciation for how everybody does (things). And so, you know, my mindset now is like there’s more than one way to do something, and doesn’t mean just the way you do it is the right way either … just because they do something different from you doesn’t make it wrong.”
McMican works as the dean of student learning at CCCC, which oversees all three of CCCC’s campuses — including Chatham — and as the director of equity and pathways for the North Carolina Student Success Center. His role now oversees student tutoring, the writing center, the academic assistance center, center for academic excellence and then also college and career readiness, which handles adult high school, ESL, and GED programs for students. His role for the North Carolina Student Success Center is a new endeavor and it fills a statewide role.
“So now at the state level, I get to facilitate trainings and help develop programs to help people better support students, no matter where they come from,” McMican said. “So that includes, trying to increase our graduation rates and our community rates for our Black, Latino and other marginalized students, low income students — everybody that falls into those categories.”
Growing up — especially in high school — McMican faced several growing pains as he navigated his identity.
“Well, the problem was none of the students who identified as white wanted to bring me in, because I was brown and things like that,” he said. “The Black students were like, ‘No, you know, you got curly hair and green eyes, and you’re light skinned, so no, you’re not Black.’ And then the Latinos would be like, ‘You don’t speak Spanish, so you’re not Hispanic either.’”
McMican’s mother, Norma Sumpter, was a first-generation immigrant from Panama City, Panama. Her adoptive father brought her over to the United States when she was about 12 years old. After her own experience coming to the United States, she decided not to teach her children Spanish.
“(Her family) pretty much got picked on like, day in day out, for not knowing how to speak English,” he said. “And they got called all kinds of derogatory names and things like that.”
Sumpter grew up in a military family and eventually married McMican’s stepfather, who was also a military man and stationed at Fort Gordon in Augusta, Georgia. McMican and his family moved from place to place for the majority of his childhood, so he felt he never got to settle growing up. Yet for McMican, the Mainz-Finthen Airfield base in Germany is where he felt he was able to celebrate his Latin identity — through dance.
“We were there for three years,” he said. “My mom would get involved with the local community, and they would do a Hispanic Day Parade. From there we would do a festival … so we would do performances at both bases, so everybody can see.
“It was a good time — a celebration for all the people,” he added, “especially the people that identify as Latino, Latina, to express their culture and heritage and they were in the military, but then it also provided an opportunity for other people to learn about it that didn’t know anything about Hispanic culture, give them a chance to see all the different countries.”
McMican said it wasn’t until he “went on journey” in his 20s that he started having a solid vision of his identity and latinidad.
“I started reading more about Panama, and everything that it encompasses and all the diaspora of people that it represents,” he said.
A part of that journey also occurred in his 30s with the pronunciation of his name.
“Up until the age of 35, I told everyone to call me Jairo (Jai-rrow),” he said. “My mom always told me to tell people that to make it easier on them. All of my mom’s family called me ‘hi-rrow.’”
While working at Durham Technical Community College, a work-study student offered a sentiment that he never forgot.
“She said: ‘Your name is ‘Hi-rrow.’ That is your name! If people don’t know how to say that or can’t practice it, they don’t deserve your attention,’” he said. “After thinking about it that night, I started asking people to pronounce it ‘hi-rrow’ going forward.”
News + Record intern Olivia Rojas is a part of the newspaper’s La Voz de Chatham reporting team. She’s a sophomore at UNC-Chapel Hill and lives in Sanford.