Day 5 - A story about growing up Latino/a

There was a time, my mother said, that I didn't want to identify as anything. Why do I have to be a girl? Easy, God gave you the organs of one. Why do I have to be a little girl? Because you're still little and have a lot to learn. Why do I have to speak Spanish? How else will you learn who you are if you don't know where you came from?

As a Latina, there are plenty of characteristics people are ready to pick on. Thighs, butt, lips, skin tones. There was always one that always drove me crazy and made me both proud and ashamed. My hair.

My hair. I don't buy into this good hair, bad hair concept - however every hair dresser my mother ever took me to would remind me to thank God that I had the hair I had. Remember at this time I didn't know about my genetics so I was still self identifying as Dominican / Puerto Rican. For those who don't know, I have thick, straight with waving tendencies, black hair. Resembling the feature of my Ecuadorian people.

While most of the girls in the salon had rollers and relaxers in their hair, my hair didn't need all that. I wanted it of course - because it just seemed like the thing to do. Like a female right of passage. I couldn't of course because "I didn't need it." All I needed was a good cut and blow. But the catch is - for so long none of these women would cut my hair the way I wanted them to. Either they cut my bangs too short, or my layers too thick, or not thick enough, or they burned my hair. It's not their fault of course, but the truth of the matter is, they didn't come across my type of hair too often. It is what it is. As much as it embarassed me when women would come touch my hair like a side show attraction, it also put me in this weird position of suddenly I'm in a "luckier" position because of it. It made me feel uncomfortable, not glamorous.

Raices: En Su Retrato de Colores
By Micaela Clementina Anaya

One story is this mother and daughter duo obviously talking sh!t about me and were envious of my hair as I got it cut. I could feel my mother getting ready to curse the sh!t right back at them but then, as my hair dresser was putting the finishing touches on my hair, she turned to this mother/daughter duo and said (in spanish, so I'm paraphrasing) "You may think she's lucky with this hair, but her hair is as dead as a chinita, so she won't be able to have pretty hairstyles and get a man as easy as her (pointing to the daughter)." They looked at each other in validation.

Guess I'm lucky that wasn't my only inspiration in life huh?

We didn't go back to that salon. You can't win them all... 

Happy Birthday Michelle! :)

- Z