The first time I learned I was indigenous and that it meant ugly was when I was 6 years old. The other times in my late 20s and after years of unpacking and owning my heritage, I felt triggered in romantic relationships. This felt awkward to me as I had already devoted time going within and loving myself even writing poetry about my beautiful leather skin and reclaiming the beauty and strength of my foremothers. How could it be that I, a woke prideful indigenous Latina, be triggered by someone calling me a Mayan Queen? I was forced to check myself … once again. I was always a smart child and being around a lot of adults I knew and learned societal codes and looks across a room, I could sense when I was to be excluded from a conversation. I was playing with a friend in her Koreatown apartment and her mom had a friend over. I remember her asking me where my mom was from and I proudly answered, “Guatemala!”. I was taught to be proud at a young age but I was not taught to love and appreciate my indigenous blood. I wasn’t necessarily told it was bad but being a mestiza I never questioned my looks. I knew that we always commented on how my paternal grandmother had hazel eyes and stunning features or how curly hair ran in the family, and my grandma and great aunts had rosy pink cheeks, as if our family needed a disclaimer. However, when this woman turned to my friend’s mom and replied, “mmm pues por eso tiene cara de Indita.” - “Well that’s why she has little Indian features” I knew that wasn’t nice. I went over to tell my mom and she proceeded to confront this lady about her comments, she even went back to insult her and tell her SHE was an India. After that incident I continued my brown girl life. Then I went to a summer camp for three weeks near San Pedro, CA. One of the camp counselors always called me Maria and jokingly called my friend Elizabeth, blonde with pigtails, by my name saying that she was more of a Heidy than me. I giggled and didn't think much of it. There was not much to be said to me that would break me down at the time even though I was chubby and had a unibrow. I was still proud. Besides these racist undertones growing up in LA, I’ve been blessed to be around people that look like me so luckily I don’t feel out the need to hide my identity or who I am. But something that has recently left me in awe and with a sour taste are comments by my own friends and loved ones that make me wonder, what do you really mean when you say I look like Pocahontas or that you love my indigenous features? Yet to this day I don’t see magazine covers with native women on them. I have decided that every time I am told that I will take it as an opportunity to own my identity and help others understand and unpack their own misconceptions and/or fetishes - Fast forward to high school a boy I had a crush on would try to insult me and say that I had nalgas de Menchu (Menchu butt). Talk about body shaming! What a dick, he didn’t deserve my butterflies. For those of you who don’t know Rigoberta Menchú, is the 1992 Nobel Peace prize winner, she is a human rights activist and all around shero. So, in retrospect that is an honor. There is a racist myth and misconception that women who traditionally wear a corte (traditional mayan wear) have significantly flatter glutes than their mestiza counterparts because of the way their body shapes from their clothes. (Stupid, I know!) My new recent shero, Michaela Cohen, writer and creator of Chewing Gum On Netflix so beautifully portrays the awkwardness of dating fetishes and racism (HERE). We all have preferences be it physical and emotional but when the preferences are rooted in toxicity and power dynamics we hit a grey area that as women of color we tend to identify instinctively. What may seem like admiration can be fetishy, and reactions are a reflection of internal battles. Like when I joyfully shared Pocahontas with a previous partner he was triggered and mirrored his emotions on me. I suddenly had to apologize for being me, he was upset that Pocahontas fell in love with a white man.. As am I!!! He made me feel guilty about that, he claimed that like Pocahontas I was conditioned to love white men. Needless to say, a few months later I did as any self-respecting new age woman does and creeped on his social media page to find he was engaged to a white woman. I released my feelings and felt at ease. So, before you comment on my beautiful “exotic” features do look within as to what that really means to you. If you still feel positive and like its a compliment then please share and get ready for my response, depending on the day. I’ll be nice, and deep.
1 Comment
Pris
8/24/2017 04:34:32 pm
Tan linda, me gustan tus blogs!
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