Monday, December 28, 2009

Celebrando


When my Mom turned 50, 
she wanted a traditional Mexican outfit and all she wanted to do was dance all day. Perhaps throughout most of her adult life, she dreamed of being a folkloric dancer. So, she went out and bought the perfect outfit and shoes. We threw her a big party. She danced the entire day away. I loved that she was able to have that moment to check something off the list. She wanted to be someone else for one day and she was able to do that. Mom, you're a greatest dancer. 
Sigue celebrando!



Tuesday, December 22, 2009

"Hablando Se Entiende La Gente"


The above is a very common phrase heard around in the Latino community. Perhaps, you’ve heard your sister tell you this when she wanted to let you know she couldn’t read your mind about something. Maybe you said this when you were frustrated about the things people don’t say and keep to themselves.
Recently, I watched a movie entitled, “The Bucket List” which stars Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson as what IMDB describes as: “Two terminally ill men escape from a cancer ward and head off on a road trip with a wish list of to-dos before they die.” The theme song of this movie is from John Mayer: “Say” This song really resonates with me. The lyrics are pretty simple and they are direct. The repeating chorus implores the listener to: “Say what you need to say.
While inspiring and beautiful, this isn’t always the case with Latinos. I do not know how Non-Latinos communicate and divulge things to each other. Whether they write letters, notes or emails only on certain occasions when really important things need to be expressed.
I remember growing up not feeling free to express myself. I was afraid that not only as a girl I’d be disregarded as just that, but also that I wouldn’t be heard or understood. I held my thoughts and feelings back because I didn’t want to be chastised for my opinions. I was mostly afraid of talking to my Dad. He was a strict man and he didn’t like disagreements. He once told me, “You don’t have an opinion in this home.” That statement immediately broke me. I felt incarcerated, trapped, and alone. It was strange to feel this way in such a full home, with 5 other kids and my Mom.
I wondered to myself how many other girls or boys my age felt the same way: mentally and emotionally oppressed. Luckily, for me, I had empty pages in journals I bought at the most accessible store at the time: Pic ‘N’ Save – now better known as Big Lots. The journals there were $1 each. 
If I behaved well, my Dad would give me my “Domingo” which was usually $5 to spend for the week. I would buy 2 or 3 at time. While I couldn’t talk to him, I would write a lot about him and my feelings for him, which were usually negative. It saddened me that I couldn’t open up to him about my thoughts, my dreams, and hopes and opinions about life at home. I was scared at his reaction.
As I grew up, I discovered that this rang true with my female friends and even with guys within the Latino culture. We did not feel free to talk about our feelings. We did not feel free to get upset about things that hurt. We would be taunted a chillon or chillona (crybaby) not only by our parents but perhaps even our siblings. We would be resentful with our parents or siblings about things they did and said towards us. Why?
           I find that not all Latinos communicated easily within their families. Even in my own family, there were rumors that one Tía said something about another Tía. Why couldn’t she say it to her face? Why does chisme (gossip) destroy family relationships? Simple: because people don’t communicate with each other.
Even now, it’s intimidating to have those “heart-to-hearts” with your family. You don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, even if yours are hurt. Perhaps you’re intimidated with a family member who is moody or angry a lot. The fear of confrontation or of an argument stops us from expressing ourselves to each other. There will always be differences of opinion and beliefs, even among families. If one of your siblings did something you’re not fond of, do you keep that to yourself? Do you tell him or her? Do you write a letter or an email expressing your feelings? Or do you approach him or her and say “Hablemos?
I believe we should encourage openness between us. We put a lot of effort into ourselves, our food, our style and our home. Why not invest the same in our friendships, our families? Why not make those closest to us aware of how feel? Take it to the next level and you’ll see that it makes a difference. When we have our own children, we’d want them to come to us and tell us everything. In the meantime, “a poner el ejemplo.”

Thursday, December 10, 2009

Familia and our Names

          A few nights ago, I was thinking, "Wow -- I have a BIG family." My childhood life was loud, crazy and full of "Mami! Mami!" It made me laugh to think about how my Mom used to call out all of my sisters' names until she found the one she meant to call something like this: "Andrea! I mean - Anna! no no, Lucy! Roci!" There were too many little girls in our house and she'd have to go through the list of us to call the correct one up. Que risa, no?
        Also, there can be many repeated names in your family. Kinda like in that movie "Goodfellas." There's a scene when the family is being introduced and all the wives' names are Marie. What I've noticed about most Latino families is that we are extremely proud of our kids and want to name them after a notable relative who passed or maybe after our own names.
        This is why we have Jose, Jr. or Miguel, Jr. or Francisco el Grande and Francisco el Chiquito. I remember dating one guy, Alejandro, who was named after his Dad. When I first would call his house to talk to him on the phone and his sister would ask, "Who do you want to speak to?" and I would respond, "Alejandro." Well, his Dad would come on the phone. "A-lo?" Talk about awkward, right? I had to explain that I wanted the other Alejandro. Truly funny.
         Then, there are those of us who were named after an actor or actress in our Mom's favorite Telenovela. Or named after an American actress or actor they really liked when they first got to the United States. Perhaps even a singer or athlete. I've always wondered why my Mom chose my name. I wanted a name like my sisters' that sounded feminine, pretty and glamorous. They got Anna Lilia, Andrea Isabel and Lucía Noemi. I got stuck with 'Rocío'. Many years, I was upset about it. People to this day don't know how to pronounce it and I was embarrassed many times to be called 'Rico" or "Rocaco.' I am still surprised that no one called me 'radicchio'. I started asking people to call me Adrianna, my middle name. I wanted to feel more like a girl. I wanted to feel more Latina.
        As the years went by and I came into my own, I decided that I liked my name. My Mom had chosen it for me. I was different than my sisters in that I didn't have any a's in my name but I felt that it represented that I was unique and this was a chance to make it feminine, pretty and glamorous, make it Latin. I am part of a family of different names and a family comprised of different personalities. It wasn't so much that I got stuck with an odd name but more that it was stuck with me. 
        So, what's in a name? What's in your family name? Do you like being named after your Mom? or your Dad? or your Abuelito? or that really cool Uncle who knew how to play futbol really well? In the grand scheme of things, what does your last name matter to you? Do you have nicknames like most of us do?
           I still wonder how we get those "apodos." Why do they call your cousin "El Flaco?" or why do they call your Tio Enrique: 'El Tio Kike?' Your 'Tio Serafin' becomes 'Tio Chafin' and your Abuelito Lorenzo becomes "Abuelito Lencho?" Where did this customizing begin? I think it has to do with showing love, showing that personal connection. Just like some words like 'preciosa' turn into 'pechocha'. All of sudden, it depicts a closeness, a relationship. You feel that it's got some tenderness attached to it. We've embraced your name and therefore now made it our own. If we Latinos bring anything to our names, and our family members, it's definitely warmth.

Tómate un Té

        During the cold and flu season, you begin to see those wonderful ads for Tylenol Cold & Flu, Mucinex, Robitussin and the like. As a Latina, I grew up on Vick's Vaporub, Arnica, and teas of different kinds. My Mom always recommended tea for any physical ailment I had.
If I had a headache, she'd say, "Tomate un te. Un te de manzanilla te va a relajar." Chamolile tea will relax you. If I had digestive issues, she'd say, "Tomate un te de menta." Drink peppermint tea. Soon, I had a collection of teas for everything. I remember around the time I was 15, she'd sent me out to the front yard to bring in yerbabuena, which is spearmint. This herb is known to be much milder than peppermint, also to help with stomach issues. I always found it interesting that my Mom made it a point to plant it in her garden. She also grew chiles and cilantro. Why did she do this? It goes back to bringing a piece of home to this foreign new home that she had. She'd say, "Mija, go outside and bring me some yerbabuena." I'd run out, yank it out of the ground, and bring it back. I always stuck around to see what she was going to do with it. Sometimes, she'd put it in a caldo (stew), or in a tortilla stir-fry that she calls "sopa de tortilla" but mostly, she'd make tea.

      These days when I call her and happen to mention that my head hurts or my stomach is feeling ill, she immediately says, "Did you drink your tea?" I already know she's going to ask and usually, by then, I am already warming up a pot of hot water. She's been right every time and I've never doubted her home remedies. What I find even funnier than drinking tea for headaches and such, is that I now keep these teas around all the time. I make it a point to replace them when I am out and I don't look to the pharmacy to help me with pain if I can help it with some home remedy my Mom knows. She is our nurse, our doctor. We trust everything she instructs without a doubt. However, we go to the Doctor's office with skepticism and fear. If only he'd say,"Drink some tea. Your diabetes will go away" or "Some hot tea will quickly ease your arthritis." This is not the case. However, if your Mom said it, you'd believe it. Faith is more about trust than anything else for Latinos and how can you possibly ever doubt your Mama?

Latino

       What is Latino? Que es Latino?  So much is undefined in this term. We were born into our Latin American countries (or derived from them through our parents) and were slapped with a label: Latino. This term has no easy definition. If you define yourself a Latino, like the way Wikipedia defines Latino 
( see link:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Latino) you'd say to yourself, Is that it?
        There's definitely more that comes with it. What I've learned growing up is that Latinos define Latinos. We make the rules. We break them. We roll everything out on a big conveyor belt that is constantly changing and evolving. Who we are now has so much to do with who we were then. Any Latino will tell you how proud they are to be a Latino, to be part of a beautiful colorful group of people from all countries, accents, foods, etc. What I take away from the debate of identity in the past 20 years, that like all ethnic groups, we do things our own way. We do things with sabor. We add a little twist to a rhythm you've never seen or heard before. We embrace diversity but we hold our own roots. We savor our heritage and yearn to understand more of who we are and where we came from. The stories of struggle and poverty don't embarrass us. They make us feel like we're worth more because of how hard we've worked, how far we've come.
        As the world grew, Latino awareness spread. You can see it everywhere. In the decor, the menu at your local eatery, the ads around your neighborhood. Perhaps you think, "They want to make me feel at home." or "They paint the colors I love in my streets so I feel welcome, not alone." I find myself walking through Los Angeles exploring how Latinos have changed the businesses around my hometown. How names attached themselves to the walls that surround me: "Ferreteria Gutierrez", "Muebles Sanchez", "Pupuseria Flor Blanca" It is completely amazing to be surrounded by ourselves, to bring our countries to this one and to make ourselves known to others and sprinkle their lives with some of our own. 
      We continue to define this term "Latino" as much as we define ourselves every day by the way we live our lives in this country. We share stories with each other of the customs that remind us most of home. I used to say that my home was Little Mexico in L.A. My mom lived like she knew how: the way she watched her mother do things. Even though she was not in Colima anymore, she cooked the same meals and prepared things in the same way. She played the same music she remembered my Abuelita play when she grew up. She made tortillas by hand even though we had faster and more modern ways of producing them. I observed a lot of moments growing up that made it clear that she missed Mexico and that even though she wasn't there anymore, she wanted to make this her Mexico away from home. 
       Every Latino must define him or herself. Does being Latino mean speaking more Spanish at home? Does being Latino mean not abandoning holiday traditions? Does being Latino mean doing things the way your Mom used to do them? Does Latino mean working as hard as your Dad did? I think that bringing a foreign way of life into your new one is making a whole new Latino emerge: the Latino who exists as his experience has shaped him, the way his roots have molded him but has adapted to a new culture while not forgetting nor abandoning that red rose, that cinnamon stick, that black or pinto bean, that fried delicacy, that folkloric dance, that passion for fiestas, that lively demeanor, that hardworking spirit. These are the things that rule over the cheeseburger, the Starbucks latte, the french fry, the club scene. These are the things that survive from generation to generation.