because society says its perfectly acceptable to kick a big girl while she's down

I like making statements. I tend to boycott things I don't like. Like Walmart. Can't stand the Waltons. Can't stand what they do (or rather don't do) to their employees. Won't forget how they refused to stock Plan B in their pharmacies until the Court stepped in. And Smoking Loon. They make wine I won't buy. Why? Because the owners use some of their profits to donate to anti-choice causes in California.

And then there's Fox. I hate Fox so much I now prefer to watch The Simpsons online. Thankfully, my boycott of Fox allows me to miss this monstrosity of a show--More to Love.

More to Love is a reality dating show for the people Fox has deemed as "Real People". It's like The Bachelor but with big girls and a big bachelor. And instead of inspiring viewers to root for the hottest/nicest contestant to win the heart of the suave, successful bachelor like on The Bachelor, the show elicits more of a pitying or mocking reaction. Why? Because unlike The Bachelor, the girls on More to Love have sob stories which the show's producers want you to know about every opportunity they get. Apparently, if you wanted to be a contestant on More to Love, you had to be:

Overweight
Had attempted dieting at least 2 times in your life
Had failed at such attempts
Have long flowing locks
Wish you were skinny
Have skinny friends that you envy because they get everything they want and you don't

Bonus points for:
Having never been in love
Having never been on a date

(Megan from Jezebel actually auditioned for the show and wrote a post about it. It's a great read. Don't stop at the end of the post. The comments are good too.)

What More to Love does is encourage stereotypes about big girls and elicit pity as it is an acceptable reaction to big girls and their "pathetic" lives. While I certainly don't expect any better from Fox (after all, this is the network that brought us Who Wants to Marry a Millionaire?), it still upsets me to see these women edited to appear as they they are nothing without a man. And the only man who is capable of loving them is a big man. Come on, Fox! One of them is an actual rocket scientist for chrissakes!

And don't get me started on the bachelor of this show. If you look up "smarmy" in the dictionary, his picture will be right there.

I have news for Fox. I'm a big girl. I've never dieted in my life. I play tennis, I work out on the Wii, and I do a lot of walking in this city. Yes, I indulge in the occasional slice of pizza, but I balance that with healthy snacks. When I get upset, I play with my cats instead of eating a tub of Ben and Jerry's. My hair is short and dyed red because I like to take chances with my hair. I don't wish I was skinny (shocker, I know). I actually like who I am. Oh and when good things happen to my friends of all sizes, I'm happy for them. Moreover, I've been on many dates and I am currently in love. By the way, my boyfriend is big, but it's muscle, baby. Just feel his biceps (actually, don't because I can get a bit possessive).

And while it's totally cliche for me to tell you "You can kiss my fat ass!" I won't. I will tell you that if you don't stop that sh*t I'm going to send my boyfriend to beat you up.

am I ethnic enough?

I know where I come from and I'm proud of my family and our history. But every once in a while, I wonder if I'm Latina enough.

It began when I was little at my Catholic elementary school. The first language I ever knew was Spanish. When I started Kindergarten, I was told that I wasn't allowed to speak Spanish any more (despite the fact that 90% of the class was Latino and spoke Spanish). Over the years, I lost my ability to speak Spanish. I could understand it well, but speaking, grammar, and writing became an issue.

Then I went to high school and took Spanish and it all came back to me--like riding a bike. Honestly, it all came back but one thing. My accent.

Some of you have probably heard me speak Spanish and have thought that I speak with the right accent, but I don't. I listen to Honduran, Mexican, Argentinian, Salvadorean, Columbian, Venezuelan accents all day long and my Spanish doesn't sound like that. Mine sounds different.

My accent isn't the only thing.. My appearance apparently makes me less Latina too. I'm pale skinned with green eyes and (dyed) red hair. A few weeks ago, I was doing a first interview with a potential client when he told me (in Spanish), "Your grammar is very good but you don't look Latina." When I asked him why he thought that, he replied, "Your coloring is off." What does that even mean?

Pondering this question over the weekend, I googled this topic and, time and time again, I came across the list. If anything made me feel even less like a Latina it was this:

10 Ways To Tell You're a Latina

You know you are Latina:

1. If you can't fight the urge to clap on a plane that has just landed!
2. If your boyfriend plucks, waxes or in any other way grooms his eyebrows even more than you do, then you are most likely a Latina...dating a Latino!
3. If even though you're fluent in English, you still refer to going grocery shopping as a compra.
4. If you have ever committed the cardinal sin and fashion faux pas of wearing socks with sandals!
5. If something immensely sad or something immensely adorable both elicit the exact same response of "Hay Bendito!".
6. If your grandmother's chancletas seemed to have some mystical boomerang powers, you know, she threw it at you and somehow it was magically back in her hand before you could even look up from your hiding place, then you are definitely Latina!
7. If Vick's VaporRub was pronounced Bibaporú and used by everyone in your family to cure anything from burns to acne to La Gripa to infertility.
8. If you have ever sat down on a couch and then immediately fallen off because of the slippery smooth surface created by the plastic covering the entire living room set...Latina all the way baby!
9. If you grew up with a mother and/or grandmother who made you eat a ton of their food to prove how much you loved them, and then called you gordita five minutes later while pinching your chichos!
10. If you are completely fed up with being called, fiery, spicy, caliente or any other adjective that could also describe a chili pepper, you are absolutely, positively, undeniably Latina.

In my whole life, I've only experienced #9 (and that's embarrassing to admit).

The fact is that Latinas come in all different colors, accents, sizes and experiences. Think of all the famous Latinas in Hollywood. Did you know that the following people are Latina?

Alexis Bledel (Rory of Gilmore Girls)
Jordana Brewster (love interest in the Fast and the Furious movies)
Camilla Belle (recently broke the heart of a Jonas Brother)
Cameron Diaz
Zoe Saldana (recently in the new Star Trek movie)
Kelis (hip hop artist of "Milkshake" fame)
Fergie (of the Black Eyed Peas)
LaLa (former MTV VJ)

And that's not counting the Latinos, like NFL QB Tony Romo and NBA star Carmelo Anthony.

There is no one single definition of being Latina. Within our own community there is so much diversity that homogeneity is impossible. And it's not just us. After all, what is Black? What is White? What does it all mean and why does it matter? It's as if society forces us to fit into these boxes that probably makes sense to the government (ie. US Census), but doesn't make any sense at all in the grand scheme of things.

So why tear each other down within the community? During the elections, I was surprised to hear people in the Black community claiming that Barack Obama just isn't Black enough. He was making history and this is what people were saying about him? What does 'being Black' mean? How is Obama not Black enough? As minorities, knowing what it is like to thought of as 'other', it's a shame that people within the same community chastise others for not being "(blank)" enough. As if being "(blank)" was some kind of universally accepted standard.

While I don't think the potential client I mentioned above was intentionally trying to make me feel like 'the other' within my own community, that was the end result of his comments.  I may have assimilated very well into this country, but I should not give anyone the power to make feel less like a part of my community.  

The next time someone makes me feel like I'm not Latina enough, I know exactly how to respond. I may not be Latina enough for them, but I am certainly Latina enough for me.

why labels are pointless

I have often wondered about the need to label people. Is it human nature to group people in categories to better understand them? For example, I can be labeled as a Latina, Mexican, Chicana, Mexican American, Hispanic, etc. But none of those labels define me. I am much more than all of those labels suggest.

I didn’t realize this until this weekend, but I had given my hairstylist a label. I labeled him as gay. A lot of my friends can be labeled as such even though I know they are much more than just gay. However, Gary really tested me.

For as long as I’ve known Gary, he’s preferred the company of men. When he first started doing my hair, he was a hardcore party guy, going out every other day, meeting new people left and right. Gary was the life of the party everywhere he went and guys were attracted to him like moths to a flame. Obviously, he relished the attention.

Gary and I have known each other for over 4 years now and he’s grown up a lot in that time. He doesn’t go out nearly as often as before. He saves his money, although he does make the occasional extravagant Prada purchase. But he’s calmed down a lot both personally and romantically. He’s tried to stay away from unhealthy relationships and he is making better choices in his life. I’m proud of him for his turn-around.

I was sitting in his chair while he trimmed my hair this weekend. I had just finished updating him on what was going on in my life. Because I was over talking about my drama, I asked Gary to let me know what was up with him. He said, “I’m dating someone. Someone different.” I asked, “Really? How so?” Gary said, “Well, I’m seeing a girl.” My jaw dropped. Incredulous, I asked, “You are? Seriously?” Gary replied with a chuckle, “Yeah, I am. I’m growing up and looking to settle down. I’m not getting any younger.” Now would be a good time to tell you that Gary is my age. Still shocked, I asked him, “How?” What I really wanted to ask was “How is this possible?” Gary replied, “Well, I knew that she was into me. I’ve known her forever. And the other day, we took it to the next level.” Hmmm…I had trouble processing this information. How could a life-long gay man just flip a switch and not be gay?

After confirming that alcohol had nothing to do with this hook-up, I asked him, “How serious is this?” He answered, “We’re taking it one day at a time.” I still wasn’t getting it but I wanted to understand. So the 20 questions continued. “Ok,” I said, “What if another opportunity presented itself, one that was too good to pass up, would you take it regardless of whether the opportunity is a man or a woman?” Gary replied, “Yup, it doesn’t matter.”

Gary then proceeded to reiterate the sentiment that he is getting older and feels a need to settle down. He wants to get married some day and maybe have children. I started to get the impression that he was with this girl because of these societal pressures, both of which are not easily granted to gay men. Perhaps he wanted to take the easy way out.

Finally, I spoke my mind. I uttered the words that I had been thinking the whole time he was telling me his story. I said, “But you’re gay!” With a maturity that I clearly had not yet attained, Gary answered, “I’m not ‘gay.’ And I’m not ‘straight.’ Why can’t I just be me? I’m just being Gary.”

I sat in his chair and nodded my head. He was right. For some reason, I felt the need to put Gary in a box labeled ‘Gay.’ Gary has the right to be with whomever he wants to be with and I am certainly not in a place to judge. Besides, he’s my friend. I accept him as who he is, whether this is a phase or not.

After a moment of contemplative silence, Gary stopped and looked at me in the mirror intensely. Then he said, “Let’s hope this doesn’t affect the way I do your hair.” We both laughed heartily, dismissing the stereotype that all good stylists are gay.

Mine just is who he is.