Las Palabras Rojas

As a woman, as a black woman, as a sister, as a daughter, as a pet owner, as a girlfriend, as a friend and as a human being there are many things that I think will end me. However, no matter how big I think my problem is, just thinking about the fact that an asteroid can hit Earth at any time without notice is motivation enough to think that my problem is never as big as I think it is. I’m used to making a huge deal over things. For example, an opportunity presented itself to me six months ago. I stressed so much, I couldn’t stop thinking about it every day, I would do research and study and prepare myself for that opportunity. And I’m not saying that was wrong but I tortured myself thinking it would be the end of the world if I didn’t get it. This was stupid and irrational. I realize that now. The thought of asteroids also makes me want to help others. I don’t want to leave this world without putting some good out there, without helping people, without doing some charit...

Tomada de NYTimes - Still de la película "Get Out" Hace un tiempo me torturé a mi misma saliendo con alguien que me veía como una fantasía. Y como toda fantasía, no pude vivir bajo sus expectativas. Lo primero que me dijo cuando me conoció fue: -Para mi las mujeres negras son un vicio.- Tal vez en su cabeza ese intento de halago era lo yo quería escuchar. Mi cara hizo el favor de informarle mis verdaderos sentimientos. Pero seguí con él, apesar de mi misma. Después de un par de salidas, Fulano me presentó con sus amigos, como quien presenta un perrito nuevo. Ellos me abrazaron, me besaron, me tocaron el pelo y sonrieron como si nunca hubieran visto una mujer negra de cerca. Entiéndame, no fue el saludo normal de perfectos desconocidos, fue una fascinación en sus ojos, una examinación de pies a cabeza y la consecuente preguntadera sobre mis credenciales como negra. -¿Cómo haces para que tu pelo haga "eso"? Se siente como una nube negra!.- -¿Qué pasa si te...

Girls, we realize what our bodies mean to others early on in life. As soon as we are deemed old enough, we are taught to cover ourselves, to restrain from climbing that tree, to pick a Barbie doll or baby doll, to like the color pink, to come home early and if possible not go out at all, to cross our legs at church and please, for God's sake don't talk about your period in public. Soon we realize our male counterparts are not given these social cues but we do not protest because we don't know better than our parents. However, the initial shock of gender comes differently for every woman. Rayuela I was an underdeveloped 8-year-old girl playing Rayuela with my cousins one morning when I realized we had an audience. There was a construction site at the other side of the street and some of the men had stopped working to look at us play. Rayuela involves a lot of jumping and the hot weather of the Caribbean side of Costa Rica usually means that you are wearing very l...

One thing I can say about my university, it pushes limits fearlessly. As I stood at the main entrance yesterday urging people to joins me and the Diversity Club at Pride parade this Sunday June the 25th, I was told a tale of courage. It turns out, last year, some parents were against my university attending Pride because of the same-old prejudice and misunderstanding of what the entire movement stands for. As a result, very little organization was put into our participation. This year, no fucks were given. Gilbert Baker 's rainbow flag stands proud at the main lobby, as more people from other clubs at school join in, to talk to other students about making themselves present at Pride. As a fun fact, my university has declared itself officially, sexually diverse since 2012. I was also surprised to know that, during this year's remodeling process, a couple of "we don't care " bathrooms were placed near the auditorium. The concept is: challenging gender role...

La gente siempre dice que, cuando una sale del país es el momento en donde empieza a apreciar las cosas de su patria, pero yo amé ese pedacito de tierra desde que me caí de un árbol y me estrelle contra ella. Anona Tenía 6 o 7 años cuando decidí que ya no quería tener miedo a subir al palo de anona de mi patio. Había un guindo al otro lado en donde muchas de mis bolas y demás juguetes rodantes habían ido a morir. No llegué a la cima. Una rama, demasiado débil para sostenerme, no pudo evitar que mi cara se estrellase contra la tierra negra y húmeda. El olor fue lo primero que me sorprendió, olía a vivo, a verde con agua fresca de lluvia. Al levantarme, mantuvo la forma de mi cara como la mejor plasticina del mundo. No hubo marcha atrás. Después de eso, los peluches fueron sustituidos por figurines de tierra y castillos de piedra. Nunca me consagré a una religión, pero mis recuerdos del templo de los Testigos de Jehová están asociados a zapatos de charol y biblias en inglé...

Me and Dad How many times have we faced the sometimes-difficult decision of not telling something to our parent because they just will not understand? For me, that is almost a constant. Not that, they don’t know where I live, or whom I live with, but some details are better left out of the conversation. Life changing events like being gay, suddenly quitting a job, changing careers or having an unusual relationship with a partner have to be softened to accommodate the delicate sensitivities of our care givers. Why? Because the definition of “normal” changes with every generation. I have learned to interpret rather that literally taking my parent’s words for what they are. I used to get so upset with them questioning my life choices that I rebelled a bit in my early twenties doing a lot of stuff they would surely disapprove.  However, as time went by, rebelling seemed silly and pointless, I came to understand that parents always mean well, but they don’t always do well. ...