When I was nine years old, my mother lost her nursing job and made the hard decision of moving us from Florida to Pennsylvania. As I lay my left hand on the airplane window, I saw and imagined myself touching the white clouds that look like cotton candy. I heard my mother in the background say in Spanish, "Mi hija, estoy haciendo esto por una vida mejor para nosotros." ("My daughter, I am doing this for a better life for us.") I nodded my head to let my mother know I understood the hard decision she was making. I could only hope that our life in Pennsylvania will be better. Well, once I arrived in Pennsylvania with my mother, we experienced a lot of judgments for being Hispanic. Those around us were not used to seeing people with big curly afros speaking Spanish and dressing a certain way. I decided to make what I thought at the time was the best decision, denying my race and ethnicity as Hispanic. Back then, I didn't realize by making this decision that not only would it affect me but my family as well. This decision is one that I came to regret.
In Florida, I was used to walking around with my big blonde curly afro, which was soft like cotton candy and as big as a basketball. My mother and I often got stopped by strangers telling us in Spanish, "Amo tus rizos, tan hermosos." ("I love your curls, so beautiful.) In Miami, natural hair was beautiful, the majority of people embraced their natural hair. When I arrived in Pennsylvania, I was not used to the new experiences of being stared at and judged for my curly afro, speaking Spanish, and dressing a certain way. I no longer heard Spanish music playing everywhere I went. There was no Bodega on every corner of the street. Strangers were treated like strangers, when in Miami, everyone no matter if you were a stranger or not were treated like family. Those around us were dressed in big name brand clothes, something my mother and I were not used to seeing. And everyone spoke English. The decision my mother made for us both was for a better life, I no longer felt that I would find a better life in Pennsylvania. When I started school, I was constantly bullied for being different. This resulted in me making the decision to deny my race and ethnicity.
After making this decision, I created a new routine. I woke up three and a half hours before school to be able to take the time to straighten my once beautiful curly afro. Then, I picked out the new high brand name clothes that I begged my mother to buy to be able to fit in at school and pretend to be an American girl. As I stared at myself in the mirror, seeing myself as I kill each curl one by one with a flat iron, I thought to myself, "I am doing this to fit in." I thought that if I stopped speaking Spanish, perfectly straightened my hair like the models in Pantene commercials, had the best-brand name clothes, and acted as an American girl, I would fit in and no longer be judged for my appearance. As I arrived at school for the first time with my perfectly straight hair and new clothes, I noticed the usual stares of judgment and bullying slowly starting to die down.
When I started seventh grade, I was no longer seen as a Hispanic girl. Instead, everyone who saw me saw an American girl. I spoke, acted, and dressed like an American girl. I no longer had a Spanish accent due to speaking English all the time. My hair no longer curled while wet due to the damage of straightening every day. I had friends who included me in their daily activities. The once negative comments I received the first two years of arriving in Pennsylvania now were positive ones. The sadness I once felt was replaced by happiness. Whenever I was asked what my race and ethnicity were, I would always state American. I was ashamed to admit that I was Hispanic. I tried so hard each day to forget who I truly was behind this American girl character I created. It got to the point that I honestly thought I was American.
During these times, my mother noticed the changes in me. She saw the once happy girl who was proud to say she was Hispanic and embraced the Hispanic culture in Miami was now denying her true self and the Hispanic culture in Pennsylvania. While I was happy because of the changes, my mother was not. She sat me down one winter afternoon in our small living room and told me in Spanish, "Hija mía, ¿qué está pasando? ¿Por qué ya no estás orgulloso de quien realmente eres?" ("My daughter, what is going on? Why are you no longer proud of who you are?). I couldn't look at my mother's eyes. I was only able to watch through the window as the white snowflakes began to fall on the windowpane and think to myself, "I wish I was a snowflake. There is no judgment between each other. All of them, so different and unique." I heard my mother in the background state how sad she was that I was no longer embracing that I was Hispanic. She explained to me, the decision that I made of pretending to be an American not only was affecting me but my family as well.
Whenever my family from Miami and the Dominican Republic came to visit us in Pennsylvania, I would act the same way as I always did, an American girl. I would continue to speak English, even when my family did not know any words. I ate only American food, listened to only English songs, and continued to dress like an American girl. My family is very loud when they speak together. Whenever I would go to different places with my family, I was always ashamed and scared that someone might recognize me and realize that I was not American but Hispanic. I tried my best to separate myself from my family in public. My family noticed the way I was acting and questioned my mother if I was rebelling against her. She could only sigh and say in Spanish, "No se que esta pasando con ella, ella no me lo dirá." ("I don't know what's wrong with her, she won't tell me.) During those times of me denying my race and ethnicity, I never told my mother the reason why. My mother and family just saw me as rebelling. My mother would try and encourage me each day to embrace my true self and my Hispanic culture. She would only speak to me in Spanish to try and motivate me to speak it. She tried cooking more Hispanic dishes. But I would leave my plate exactly how she placed it on the table. She no longer bought me name-brand clothes, which caused me to rebel. I could not understand at the time why my mother was so against my decision to be known as an American girl. I was happy being an American, or so I thought.
For the summer break, before entering my 10th-grade year. My mother decided for both of us to go back to the Dominican Republic, where my family and I are from. I was excited to be able to leave Pennsylvania. I didn't realize at the time, but my mother was hoping that by returning to the Dominican Republic, even if it was for a short period, that I would go back to embracing my true self and my Hispanic culture. And she was right. At the end of the trip, I no longer wanted to be an American girl. I wanted to go back to embracing my true self and my Hispanic culture. I had a terrible experience in the Dominican Republic due to being judged and bullied for speaking, acting, and dressing like an American girl. It reminded me of the experience I first had when I first arrived in Pennsylvania. This was the moment in my life that I finally realized the big mistake I made of denying my true self and my Hispanic culture. I was able to see that my mother always had the best intention for me.
When we finally arrived in Pennsylvania after spending two months in the Dominican Republic, I sat down with my mother and confessed to her the reason why I made the decision when I was 11 years old to deny being Hispanic. I told her all the times I was being bullied and how it caused me to be depressed and make the decision to become an American girl. She started crying and asked in Spanish, "¿Por qué no me lo dijiste?" ("Why didn't you tell me?"). I was only able to tell her that I thought she wouldn't understand what I was going through. I told her that she was right in encouraging me each day to embrace being Hispanic and that I no longer wanted to be an American girl. She was happy to hear me say that and help guide me on the journey of becoming who I once was, a Hispanic girl who was proud of herself and her Hispanic Culture.
Now being 25 years old and thinking back to those moments in my life, I am grateful that my mother never gave up on encouraging me to embrace being Hispanic. I faced a lot of challenges after I decided to embrace my true self and my Hispanic culture. I was bullied by those who were American and those who were Hispanic, who didn't believe I was Dominican because of how I spoke, acted, and dressed before I pretended to be an American girl. I had to work extra hard in learning how to read, write, and speak Spanish again, and learn how to appreciate my Hispanic culture once again. Though I faced those challenges, it was worth it. Because I was able to find the courage and happiness in embracing who I truly am. I am no longer ashamed of being Hispanic instead when I am asked, I say it with pride. I was able to use my experience and teach my younger family members who were born here in the United States, on not making the same mistake that I made, which I came to regret, to instead, embrace being Hispanic.
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