In honor of Women’s History Month, I thought it was befitting that I share some of my own experiences in being a woman and not only a woman but also a woman of color. Being a Latina and a woman are two very important pieces to my identity and who I am. I can’t have one without the other. In fact, my background and influences as a Latina have influenced the traditional ideals I grew up with and the way I viewed woman and relationships. As a result, it took me years to love my femininity, my body, my pleasure, my curls, and who I am as a powerful, beautiful, and strong Latin woman but I am finally here and I am never going back.
Imagine how much happier we would be, how much freer to be our true individual selves, if we didn’t have the weight of gender expectations.
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
Rough beginnings: born into Traditional home
Much like the title said, I was born in a very traditional Latin household. My dad, like most Latin dads, was a very “masculine” man. He was the powerhouse of the house. He drove the car, he did the hands-on chores, he talked to anyone who rang the doorbell, and he got served the first plate at dinner time. It was really frustrating to watch as a little girl. I would watch my mother clean, cook, and raise us all by herself.
When I was younger, I used to think to myself and say, “I’d never be like that. I’ll make my husband do house chores and cook.” I loved my mom with my whole heart. She was kind and full of love. However, I knew that traditional home life was not for me. My mom was very submissive and soft-spoken. As a result of that, my dad was the dominant one in their relationship and my mom was dependent on him for most things. It’s a really common structure for Latin families, especially the gender norms placed on little girls growing up. I grew up knowing what was “lady-like” and what was not, what a boy could do and what I could not.
Despite my rebellious spirit to diverge from that traditional home life, I ended up developing a lot of those exact traits and ideals. I was very soft spoken and later in life, I would have trouble speaking up to men and undergo even more trouble in relationships with men. I didn’t have a good example of a independent, strong woman and I didn’t know what a healthy, balanced relationship with a man looked like. I would learn the hard way soon.
Middle School: wannabe tomboy n toxic relationships
Growing up, I got so annoyed by hearing the words “lady-like” and “don’t do that, that’s for boy,” that I ended up going through a tomboy stage. I didn’t want to be the submissive woman who sat around and depended on a man for everything like my mom. So, in my adolescent brain, there was only one solution: be a tomboy and rebel. It’s okay to act like a tomboy but it was very clear I was not. I didn’t want to be a tomboy but I felt like I had to be to prove to the world that I “was not like other girls.”
I made myself hate pink because “that’s too girly” for me. I didn’t wear dresses or try on make up for the same reasons. My little sister was the exact opposite and growing up, I envied her for how she wore so much pink and poured sprinkles everywhere. I wanted to do that but I felt this need to meet this standard, this version in my head that was not me but what I thought should’ve been me. It definitely caused a lot of resentment towards “girly girls” for me and later, it would cause a feeling of shame and embarrassment when I finally did try do more “feminine” things.
I still had trouble talking to boys. In history class, I would purposely try to debate with girls because the second I was up with a boy, I’d choke up. I grew up watching my mother let my dad talk for her that I didn’t know how to have that voice. Men were always right and so, I shrunk myself and I let them be right. A lot of my friendships with guys ended up much like that. I didn’t want to hang out with other girls because of my little internal strife so I hung out with guys but the longer it lasted, the more I felt lost, the more I lost that inner woman in me. I used to let them say jokes about women and actually laugh like it was funny. They used to tell me that I “could take a joke” and I wasn’t “as sensitive as other girls,” but in reality, it was very isolating. I found it hard to feel whole or like a woman.
Then of course, the story got worse during the end of middle and the beginning of high school. I dated this guy who was honestly not a good guy. In fact, he was exactly like my dad and his dad was exactly like my dad. If I even had a quarter of that inner woman inside me, I lost all of her in that relationship. It was my first relationship and as I had no example of what a healthy relationship looked like, I grew very dependent on him for my happiness and self worth. I only felt whole, only felt like someone when I was with him.
I compared myself to other woman on a regular but in that relationship, I saw every single woman as a treat. I grew jealous and spiteful. It wasn’t his fault. Toxic masculinity and gender roles is a trauma that men have to heal from as well. He acted in the only way he knew how, just as I did. However, it was exactly what I needed to start my journey into healing and embracing my inner woman.
It took me nearly two years to realize all of this anguish, the reason why I sought him out in the first place, the reason why I felt so lost was because I had been rejecting that inner woman for so long. I was not nourishing her, not embracing her, not feeding her what she needed to grow and heal and exist in full essence, authentic, and raw.
Highschool: so close but not yet
My breakup with my first toxic boyfriend was eye opening. It set me up for the right track but I still hadn’t quite gotten the full picture of things. I still sought boys for attention and self worth. However, I was starting to explore my more feminine side. I struggled to maintain healthy girl friends but my desire to have one was growing. I bought a few dresses and had begun to wear them. It didn’t happen often and when it did, I was a nervous wreck. It didn’t feel right on my body and I worried whether I looked good in it or not. I still went nowhere near pink or makeup.
I had a lot of internalized misogyny to outgrow. I was ashamed of my past views, especially the ones that revolved around sex. For this reason, I jumped into the wave of feminism but I didn’t have a clue what it meant besides “equality for women.” I started to question myself, the men I hung around, my parents, my past, and the world around me.
Junior and senior year were life changers for me. I met my current boyfriend of three years and he taught me not to depend on him or anyone but myself. I still wasn’t the woman I wanted to be: confident, proud, sexy, smart, beautiful, and powerful- but I knew what I wanted to be. He encouraged me to get out of my comfort zone, to try new things, and so I did. I cut my hair. It was something I had always wanted to do but I grew up knowing that long hair was feminine and what looked most beautiful on women. When I cut it, I was terrified but as soon as the weight was off my shoulder, I felt like a new woman.
All my life, I felt as if my curls were inferior to straight hair. It was the beauty standard and my frizzy mess was not it. I used to grow up hearing girls tell me that I’d look so pretty with straight hair and I’d watch the boys I liked go after them. Cutting my hair off was a way to release all that, to not only accept that I could be feminine with short hair but that I could accept the curls my heritage gave me.
High school was also the point of my life where I had to accept who I was as a Latin woman. I used to hear my guy friends say things like “Latinas are spicy” or “Latinas are great in bed.” I used to make jokes about being “crazy” because I was so desperate to get their approval. At one point, enough was enough and I had lashed out. I did not want to be “exotic” or “spicy” or “crazy.” I wanted to be respected, to be admired, to celebrate where I came from. So I did. No longer did I let the jokes and the stereotypes continue although I still stayed with those friends, I was proud of myself for humanizing myself again.
Sadly though, this resulted into a tough exterior. I thought to be a strong woman, I had to be tough. If I wanted to get my point across like I did with the Latina jokes, then I couldn’t be soft. Women are always soft and submissive and that’s why they never get heard- that was my mentality. However, losing that soft side had definitely done more harm than good. I am a soft hearted woman by heart, pretending to be a big bad wolf was not in my nature and it hurt my spirit beyond measures. It wasn’t until a friend of mine told me that being kind, sensitive, emotional, and vulnerable were not weaknesses or a woman’s flaws. In a mean world such as the one we live in, to be kind and stay kind requires a lot more strength than being cruel. It makes you powerful. Not only that, but there are good, human qualities any one should have. My friend taught me that being kind was not weak, it was strength and that the world needed more kind people.
Prom was the first time I wore makeup. I had sulked the entire time my older sister did my make up. It felt foreign under my skin. I felt weird and different and like I shouldn’t have been wearing it. I hung out with so much men during my youth that I shared the idea that “women look better natural” and “make-up is fake.” Despite always sneaking peaks at my sisters’ makeup bags and secretly desiring to try it on, I was convinced that makeup was extra and it was better to just be natural. When I looked in the mirror, I felt so beautiful. I knew I was already beautiful without it but in my sulking, I hadn’t realized how fun it was. That was when I learned that women don’t apply makeup for anyone but themselves, they do it to empower themselves, to express themselves, to feel pretty.
I wore a beautiful, flowery champagne dress and rose gold jewelry and felt like an absolute princess. It was the most feminine I had ever been. I realized then that I had liked the feeling of getting dressed up, of wearing jewelry and applying make up. I had always thought my style was dark and tomboyish, maybe even a little grungy but that day, I had found a part of that woman inside of me that wanted to dress like a princess and she came to life. I even wore heels for the first time- something I swore to never do and I felt powerful.
College: sex, debates, clothing, and self love
College was the testament to my self discovery journey. I had bought an entire new wardrobe, including all sorts of feminine attire and even pink colors! I was learning how to balance my different styles: the pretty, flower girl or the sexy, red woman or the grungy, dark skater chick. It was definitely a battle until I learned that I could be all three without sacrificing my femineity.
I still had this weird negative stigma about sex and masturbation. I grew up with a lot of religious shame and the memory of my mom telling me that it was important to wait until marriage. My little sister had entered high school around the time I graduated and became a freshmen in college. As horrible as it sounds, when she came to me about these matters, I spewed out a lot of the misogynistic comments I heard my own parents say to my older sister or to me. That was when I learned how wrong it was and how important it was to connect to myself as a woman sexually, to take control of my pleasure, to embrace my nudity, and express myself however I wanted to without shame or fear of being called a “slut” or an “immodest woman.” I still struggle with this today but step by step, I get better.
Sadly though, I had lost weight after going to the gym. I have been underweight all of my life and I had hoped to gain more weight after going to the gym but it did the exact opposite. I had finally begun to love my body and then after losing all that weight, I entered a slump. I never had the ideal “hourglass” body that men today want so I felt self conscious to be even more skinnier. I thought I had lost my appeal. It took a while but I learned to embrace the tininess again, to love my body, as long as it was healthy, I was okay. I started to wear more revealing clothing, even if it didn’t appeal to my curves because I felt beautiful in my own skin and I wanted to embrace that.
To this day, I still struggle to debate with a guy. In my English classroom, I got a contradiction in one of my peer’s comments. I reluctantly raised my hand and when I called it out, my words fumbled and the voice choked. I didn’t say what I really wanted to say and he won the debate. I remember feeling so flushed and hot and embarrassed. I hated myself that day. I thought “Why can’t I just speak up?” If I wanted to be a strong, independent woman then I had to learn to find my voice and defend myself. However, I realized it takes time. I spent so many years silencing myself to make room for the men in my life that I had forgotten my own voice and even though my voice came out shaky and weak, it came out. It never left me. Step by step, I find more of my voice every day. It is soft and shaky at times but it is powerful and one day, it’ll be so loud that everyone will turn their heads.
Each time a woman stands up for herself, without knowing it possibly, without claiming it, she stands up for all women.
Mary Angelou
I fuel my opinions more and more. I finally researched the entire history of feminism. I even educated myself on the many branches, toxic masculinity, and the patriarchy. I speak up a lot more about those topics than I used to. It feels good to fight for something, to know what I’m fighting for, to know that I’m making it a better world for our future daughters. I actually cut off almost three quarters of my guy friends. It felt extremely lonely of course and then I found a group of girls who like me were learning who they were and embracing their inner woman. It felt amazing to be with women again. A lot of them actually come to me for advice on toxic relationships and how to get out of them.
I started learning how to apply makeup. I wear heels and dresses and jewelry. It feels great. I never would have had the guts to embrace that “girly” side of me. There was a time I would have felt like it didn’t belong on my skin and now, I willingly choose to wear them. I paint my nails now, I rub oils on my skin, and I wear clips on my hair. It feels powerful. Some nights, I waste away hours on self love and care activities, with face masks and chocolate.
I am still not the woman I want to be. Some days, I found myself still comparing myself to other women. Some days, I cling to my boyfriend a little too much and some days, I can’t even approach the topic of masturbation without feeling shame. I want to be strong, to be able to talk to a man in a debate without fear, to fight for myself and the women around me. I want to be confident in my own skin, to be able to wear a flowery dress and a dress that hugs my body. I don’t want to depend on a man, I want to be my own woman and I want that to be enough.
I have come a long way from defeating my past history with gender roles in a relationship to denying my femininity and grappling with internalized misogynistic ideals. But through the blood, the tears, and the heartbreak, I can finally say I am on the right path to becoming the woman I want to be and one day, I’ll get there. Each day, I love the woman I’m becoming a little more. She’s flawed and messy but she’s real and authentic and powerful and worthy. I want to be the kind of woman my daughter might aspire to me, that my little sister can look up to, that my future students can admire. I know I’ll get there. Now that I found that ember, that little spark inside me that flourished and came to life, I am never letting go of that woman inside me again.