Having had a difficult childhood, vulnerabilities are not something I like to posses. In addition, as the eldest of four by a minimum of six years, there was an image and feeling of power that I had created which served me well for many years. Vulnerabilities, of almost any sort, do not settle well with my being. They make me uncomfortable and I tend to remove them as soon as I identify them. But lately, I have noticed that there is one vulnerability that I cannot vanquish so easily. Sadly enough, it is my ethnic identity.
For reasons too complicated and gory to detail right now, I am estranged from my immediate family. Consequently, any language or traditions I pass on to my children are the results of a strained effort to recall the legacy of my dearest Abuela, now twenty-two years passed. The relatives I do communicate with barely speak Spanish, live far from us or are those that live in Puerto Rico and I haven’t seen in more than a decade having only just reconnected after recently Facebook friending them. The fact is I have no connection. I have no solid grounding to my heritage. I am the threadbare, tenuous link that my children have to my heritage. It is my vulnerability. It is my sorrow.
I too often find myself questioning if I am doing enough, being Hispanic enough for my kids, being Hispanic enough for me. I always reference back to my Abuela. I ask “what did she do in this instance?” And I do that. I look to the world around me to guide me, in as well as I can be guided, in how best to be the Hispanic I want to be. I often feel like an orphan of the Earth being guided by the winds. When I hear others speak Spanish, I hear them use phrases and idioms with such ease and comfort. I can see their ties to their family in their speech and mannerisms. I can imagine them talking with their moms and dads with those words, and laughing with those jokes. Any that I use are a memory I am replaying of my grandmother, gone for so many years, far from my reach already.
And so with that said I move forward with my vulnerability. I know it is not something that I will ever be able to purge from my life, so I accept it as that which keeps my human. I do not doubt my talents, my strength, my beauty, my luck or myself, but God gave me something to doubt, so that I make sure to never doubt him.
What are the doubts in your life? What are the guides in your life?
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Dear Madam,
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Like you, I used to believe that I was not passing along enough of my cultura. I worried about this until one day I realized I was starting new "traditions", ones that I had created with my familia. They are a hodge podge of what I saw as a child and what has helped me thrive in the 21st century and they work. Why? Because they right for US.
ReplyDeleteMy children are learning the better aspects of our cultura, the parts that will help them grow. They are learning OUR "traditions", new traditions, just as your children are learning yours and they are right because they work for YOU. In the end, that is what really matters.