February 22, 2006

The Double Standard Rules

I have gotten into the habit of reading other peoples blogs. I think it's fascinating to hear what other folks have to share about a bunch of different topics. One of my faves is by Alisa Valdes-Rodriguez, she wrote "The Dirty Girls Social Club," and is credited with starting the Chica-Lit movement. In one of her recent posts, she discussed that while researching her latest book, she realized how fortunate many Latinas are because they have limited rights that Latin American parents impose on their daughters. It made me think of my own childhood. And inspired the diatribe below:

I'm the daughter of Puerto Rican migrants who raised me to be independent, educated and self-reliant, but the double standard was law in our home. The way I dressed, my curfew, the activites I pursued, all clashed with what my parents said they wanted for me.

So while I was encouraged to play with dolls, read books and assigned "female" chores (washing dishes and cleaning the house) my older brothers played stickball, went to baseball games with my dad and did "boy chores" (raking leaves, washing the car). This of course subconsciously influenced (at least in my opinion) my interests. I shied away from sports like basketball and track and gravitated to book clubs and cheerleading.

While I resented it, I can honestly say, that I wouldn't change much. Sure, I was smart enough to know I needed to study if I was ever going to go to college and get out of my suburban town, so the strict curfew wasn't totally necessary. I wasn't down with the weed-heads who chose to get high in the back of the high school football field, so limiting where and with who I could go, wasn't really a necessity either. But my parents stringent rules (no make-up or boyfriends 'till 16, accepting nothing less than appropriate "lady-like" behavior) truly focused me on becoming an independent person who would eventually make those choices for herself.

Their rules gave me something to rebel against and informed and influenced my own opinions, ideas and beliefs on how I want to raise my own children when I have them (because yes, while I just turned 28, no I don't have any little ones. For real) My "rebellious" behavior was marked by going away to college, moving out of my house after graduating instead of waiting to be married, traveling to various cities and countries alone, etc. The tats and piercings, which will be another post, were not a symptom of that, I swear. =).

That doesn't mean their mixed messages didn't confuse the hell outta me. I didn't get how I was going to be independent when I wasn't allowed out of the house past a certain time. To this day, I firmly believe my parents worry more about me than they do my brothers. Not because they care less, pero porque soy la nena.

But I am blessed to have parents who don't harp about me living single in NYC, who encourage(d) me to further my education (and helped me pay for it), and who have always nourished my dreams, no matter how far reaching they may have seemed.

I realize that if it weren't for their overprotection, which felt suffocating at times, I wouldn't be me. I am in no way saying that I'll follow their child-rearing formulas to a "T," but I think they definitley had the right idea on a number of things. Thanks Mom and Dad. You did alright. =)

February 7, 2006

Being Puerto Rican

I recently made a new friend (hi Kimmy!) who's a fellow Boricua. She mentioned to me during one of our conversations that while growing up in an all white community in New Jersey she used to think she was white. She told me about the first time she found out she was Puerto Rican: while filling out her college applications she marked "white" and her mother corrected her telling her darling daughter that she was, in fact, Puerto Rican.

This of course led to the whole conversation of race. Race is a social construction, but culture..that's something you can't fully shake. Acculturation and socialization really help determine who we are and how we form our identities. Although you might be influenced by your environment it's still possible to find pieces of who you are when you're least expecting it.

Our intellectual volley reminded me of a piece I wrote about my various stages of "being Puerto Rican" and how they each evolved. Although I am constantly evolving and growing, my cultural identity, which defines the largest part of me, is firmly grounded. Disfruta...

Being Puerto Rican
March 2003 ©

Puerto Rican at 5 : Rice and beans
A bottomless blue ocean
White peasant blouses
Flowing floral skirts
Blossoms nestled in hair

Puerto Rican at 10: Papi listening to Hector and Willie
Drinking coquito at Christmas
Bendiciones from Titi
Breezless Brooklyn summers
Papá playing dominoes on the stoop
Pan de agua y pastelitos
Burning brown
Menuditis

Boricua at 15: Not rolling my R’s
Thirsting for knowledge
Boasting a one starred flag
Immeasurable pride
Pietri’s obituary
Finding my experience shelved
Dancing to Jerry’s song

U.S. born Puerto Rican at 20: Visiting Spanish Harlem
Pa’lante, Siempre Pa’lante
Frequenting the Nuyorican
Colonial shame
Defending nationalism
Searching for Hector and Willie

Puertoriqueña at 25: Transcending boundaries
Defining mi comunidad
Debating statehood
Still not rolling my R’s
Accepting Nuyorican-ness
Embracing my olive skin
Going home
Everything in between