Opening Remarks from Levine Museum Launch

June 12, 2007 at 7:54 pm 2 comments

I began work on the text of Hijas Americanas officially in late 2005, but, the truth is, I began working on this book long ago as my life as a Puerto Rican girl in the Carolinas began to play out. Nevertheless, I never intended to write a book.  My first career—and what I thought would be my only career– was as a high school teacher and coach at Garinger High School where I realized that the students that filled my classroom full of culture were navigating the world of first-generation, lower class immigrant that I had.  I saw reflected in their eyes the childhood I had had and I ached to reach out to them, to help them capture and raise their voices.  I had learned to gravitate towards voice when I was a child, losing myself in books for hours at a time.  Writing my way through my adolescence, I am convinced, kept me safe, kept me from ever making a choice that was different from what I had expressed in my countless pages of journals.  And so when I thought about helping my students get there, I packed myself off to get an MFA in Creative Writing so that I could really know how to coach someone into their voice through writing.  After two semesters of graduate school, I was terrorized that I had nowhere to go with these divergent essays and poems I was writing.  I had nothing that would yield itself into the final book-length manuscript that was required for graduation.  I panicked to my advisor, and she looked at me so wisely and patiently and said, “All of this is about you coming to find yourself after casting a careful eye on your ethnic identity, beauty perception, and body image.”  I went back and read the volumes I had written and found she was right.  And with that my graduate manuscript, Giving Up Beauty, was born.   Flash forward another year, and with my MFA degree in hand, my final advisor asked me to send my work out to books and journals.  I don’t want to be a writer, I insisted.  I just want to teach.  But he asked me to appease him, to send things out for a year, to think about how I might have felt at 20 if I had been able to read what I had since written.  You would have felt better, right, he implored, knowing that you were not alone.  I nodded, I sputtered, I stalled, and ultimately I began to send work out that surprised me each time it was accepted somewhere.  One of those pieces was called The Latina in Me and it is the essay that ultimately led my publisher to ask me to consider doing something more universal than just a collection of essays.  That final work is Hijas Americanas:  Beauty, Body Image, and Growing Up Latina, a book that looks at the coming of age experiences of 500 Latinas who had similar and yet unique experiences to mine.  But I thought I would read tonight from that essay that started it all, an essay whose parts you can see in Hijas Americanas.   

 Opening of The Latina in Me: 

The Latina in me is frustrated.  She stays awake late and contemplates marriage and feminism while my gringa sleeps.  I never fought this battle before, not until my friends started marrying and producing children, and my Latin mother started suggesting marriage to the man I consider her “Great White Hope.”              

Mamacita has been praying for a husband for me for far too long.  She lights candles and recites rosaries for her hijita soltera.                

“Don’t ask for an esposo in my name,” I implore.                

Y que?” she replies.                

“Pray for starving children.  That’s the type of prayer for which you call upon God.  Do that in my name.”                

“Oh si?” She challenges, and I see I have done nothing to alter her agenda except add a whispered postscript for good measure to make this hijita less spitfire y mas feminina

I figure it goes like this: I, the multi-ethnic child of Latino parents and American upbringing, should be able to take from my culture what I need and then add anything else as I go.  A little bit of MTV here, some pizza there, football on Thanksgiving, a lifetime without dresses or make-up, and dating early without the parental inquisition.  Throw that all in with the Taina in me: loud music, spicy foods, long embraces, energetic dancing, Spanish speaking, decibel-shattering conversations, and extended family tree and there you find me, as Americanized as the Native Americans: colonized, yet fighting the conqueror.              

But, then, that was me figuring it out nice and neat and convenient, and the one thing I’ve learned in this America is that there isn’t much here that is nice and neat and convenient, and my ethnicity has affected my self-concept too much for me to ignore it.  The Latina in me finally has to make peace.                                            

Entry filed under: On the Road. Tags: , , , , , , , , .

This Week’s Hijas Events Book Club, Women’s Group Program

2 Comments Add your own

  • 1. Raquel  |  June 12, 2007 at 8:06 pm

    This is somewhat the epitomy of my life. The Semi-Epitomy. My mom doesnt pray for a husband, she just prays for grandchildren. I pray that I get my grad degree and if all goes well, kick major ass in society. She cant stand my need to help. She’s more of a help yourself and let others scrath themselves on their own. Yeah…thats not gonna work. Thanks for sharing!

  • 2. Giving Up Beauty « Hijas Americanas  |  September 19, 2010 at 8:30 pm

    […] way, I wrote a couple essays that changed the trajectory of my life.  One of those essays was The Latina in Me which led to Hijas Americanas.  Another essay was Giving Up Beauty which led to the body image […]


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Trackback this post  |  Subscribe to the comments via RSS Feed

In a Bookstore Near You

What does it mean to be beautiful in America? For years, pop culture has insisted that beautiful women are tall, thin, and blonde. So what do you do if your mirror reflects olive skin, raven hair, and a short build? Hijas Americanas: Beauty, Body Image, and Growing Up Latina offers a provocative account of the struggles and triumphs of Latina forced to reconcile these conflicting realities. Rosie Molinary combines her own experience with the voices of hundreds of Latinas who grew up in the US navigating issues of gender, image, and sexuality. This empathetic ethnography exemplifies the ways in which our experiences are both profoundly individualistic and comfortingly universal.
Follow rosiemolinary on Twitter

Blog Stats

  • 124,604 hits


Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

%d bloggers like this: