It's like, going to sleep with your boat tied up nice and neat at the marina, but waking up in the open sea. And one day being okay with it but the next day being scared shitless that you won't be able to find your way back to shore.
In my head, it's like that.
I have the best, and the worst, of both worlds. It's a constant struggle trying to straddle two cultures, trying to honor and be true to both.
I went through phases where it was DR IS THE BEST one day to I COULD NEVER LEAVE NY EVER the next. It's still this way.
When someone asks me my favorite song it's hard because I'm like, "In English or Spanish?" Who can choose between Fernandito and Prince? Not me, that's for sure.
Growing up knowing that your people went through hell and went without and made so many sacrifices just so that you could be born HERE... that shit weighs heavy on your shoulders. That makes you think HERE is better that THERE, but then they also tell you not to put too much stock in HERE, to settle THERE with one of THEM, and, hey, guess what? Don't worry about funeral arrangements... you see this slot here in the family tomb? That one is yours. Gee. Thanks.
There's pressure... you're the GREAT WHITE HOPE because you've managed to figure out how to be HERE and play the game like a native; you're like a spy. Except that every little mistake is scrutinized and thrown back at you.
"My mother didn't come here and take in people's wash so you can play around and flunk out of college."
I know she didn't. That's not why I flunked. Please just let me breathe. If I could just be allowed to breathe I'd be fine.
If my professors would stop stressing my occasional use of Spanish in my stories, if my elders would let go of the fact that YES, I date Black men and my friends are Black because HELLO, MCFLY, you raised me in a Black neighborhood, if I didn't have to choose between Team DR and Team USA in the World Baseball Classic... then maybe I could breathe.
If I didn't get the side eye for my gringa ways from Dominicans, and another side eye from Americans for my chancletas and rolos... too Latina for the Americans, too American for the Latinos... then maybe I could breathe.
Yes, the U.S. fed me, but DR made me. Why do I have to choose? How can I possibly choose between what gave me life and what nurtured it? And are they really that different after all?
The babies don't speak Spanish. I know. I'm sorry. You think I don't know? Calling me to complain about it...wasting my daytime minutes on a TransAtlantic call to ask why? Are you for real?
And they are darker than YOU'd both like. I know this, too. But I'm still not going to relax their hair so both of YOU, stop asking. Really. Stop.
I want to be a good daughter, I do. I want to make YOU proud. I really do.
But how? Tell me how to please YOU and THEM and still have a moment left for ME... to BREATHE...
*smooches...opening a vein for which there is no real band-aid*
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and just so you know... from now on I will NOT be italicizing the Spanish I write. to hell with those who don't know what it means. I know what it means...
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17 comments:
I feel you nena. You put this very well. I remember telling my mom that every other mfer in college had a car and that I had to walk all the way to the edge of campus, down "THE HILL" (and it was aptly named, let me tell you), three blocks to the bridge, OVER the bridge into downtown and then through downtown to get to the supermarket. Only to have to schlep all of my groceries all the way back .. and up THE HILL, I might add ... and that I really, really needed a car. Even if it was a fuckin jalopy. The response? "You've become too Americanized."
(btw, that meant no car)
I get the "you don't speak spanish" thing all the time from my grandmother and her siblings. I tell her, blame your daughter.
That for me solves the nature vs. nuture argument...
My mother may have made me, but she surely didn't nurture me. I am a product of my own upbringing.
I would kill to go to Cuba and spend a few months there, learning the language and culture. Sadly, so much of it has been lost.
Wait.. there is a team USA in the baseball classic? I think we gave away baseball as the national past-time years ago, so feel free to cheer on Team DR. Hell I would... lol
@jack- m'ijo, try going to school without a red cent in your pocket, not even for books, because I was supposed to make my own way. WHAT? and she wonders why I flunked out...
@irene- don't give up on cuba; we're working on opening that bitch up... we'll get there, don't worry. And imagine the PAR-TAY it will be...
@super dave- LMAO! yes, the US has been slippin on the baseball talent, choosing instead to import it rather than nurture the ones we have right here...
That was a pretty good read, Raquel. You have me going back and forth with you for a minute. I felt like I was the one being pulled in the tug-of-war. I can't really give an opinion, cause I think you bare the honor of being able to proudly honor both.
If I could just be allowed to breathe I'd be fine. Being of two seperate cultures I imagine you have made this statement alot.
OMG I'm cosigning this post so hard I broke the pen... I stay being "too whatever" for the other side, unable and unwilling to choose shit
sending a (e) hug your way! i feel for you hun.
I was wondering if you spoke spanish cause i only see you use spanish words here and there.
just know that you can be your self on your blog, we love you just the way you are! :)
@don- glad you enjoyed this trip inside my world!
@qucifer- I knew you'd feel me on this one
@sexxy luv- I am fluent in Spanish; I use it a lot in my short stories but hardly ever on the blog... not sure why...
I feel you 100%
but i have learned to let the insults roll. As long as my mother and grandmother (who still cuts sugar cane at age 90) loves me. I am good.
This was a very enlightening post. I don't know what its like but it seems the equivalent to my mom's life as the first generation to grow up here in the North.
I say the heck with it all, embrace all of you. DR, your love for black men (white men in November)and those don't worry if Jaded is happy. Then you can breathe
I wish I could speak spanish..I need 2 spanish classes to graduate..but it's complicated and I don't have time to be conjigating verbs..
@ Jaded Santana
I feel you on this one. I really do. Well written.
and those clowns from queens won today so you should be happy. first place, right? lol
@brother omi- I'm still working on ignoring the insults, but when it comes from your own blood, man, that ish stings like a bitch!
@the f$%k it list- thanks, hon!
@foia- LMAO... don't worry, my Spanish grammar is a hot mess, so I don't know how well I'd do in a class myself!
@12kyle- oh... did you see me do my dance of joy from all the way down south? lol
that sucks, having to choose & struggle. i think i my mom took the brunt of it when dealing w/my grandmother & her strict west indian traditions that i was "ignoring" (which i wasn't). its hard to play for both teams but keep doing you & grabbing from both cultures to pass on to your daughters.
well, i married a sister from Nigeria... and we gave all of our babies Yoruba names, so the insults come from my own. but like i said, as long as my mother and grandmother and siblings love me, who cares.
i have several relatives who question my "dominicaness" if there is such a thing to measure all the time. I yawn when they do that.
as one gets older (35 years), one learns that when someone insults you, it is not because of any flaws you may have but because of the insecurities those people have.
out of all my cousins on my mother's side, there are only three of us that are married. only one of them, happily married. guess who that one is?
@kieya- it's not something that is terribly unbearable anymore. for the most part the fam will leave me be, but the snide comments and side eyes remain!
@brother omi- oh, you didn't have to tell me that it was your folks who were being critical. I know it all too well lol
i can't handle side eyes lol
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