Growing up, I hated all things girly. I was the epitome of a tomboy. I discovered early on that being a girl was not the same as being a boy. We were each treated as a separate species, with our own set of rules and stereotypes.
I had to sit a certain way. I had to act a certain way. I had to fit into a certain box and be a nice, sweet, pretty, little girl. I had to wear pink. I had to eat slowly. I had to wear skirts and do my hair. I had to help my mom in the kitchen because “girls belong inside,” while my brothers were outside with my dad. Girls are supposed to be quiet, never loud. Girls are supposed to be sweet and polite.
All of these things combined to shape me into the lovely pleasant little girl that I was expected to be. For a long time, this was the reason I loathed being a girl; I wasn’t weak or inferior, so why was I treated as such? I was taught through subliminal messages and thousands of microaggressions that being a girl isn’t enough. It is projected that being feminine is a sign of weakness. Because I am a woman, I am inferior and incomplete.
In the hope of being treated fairly, I focused on being hypermasculine to demonstrate I was not inadequate. I dressed as ambiguously as I could, trying to hide, partially embarrassed of my gender.
I could sense from a young age that the boys in my school had power. Even though I couldn’t articulate those feelings and thoughts, I knew that playing kickball and football with the boys was more important than whatever the girls were doing on the other side of the playground.
Instead of jumping rope with the girls, I felt that proving myself to the boys by playing the same sports demonstrated that I, too, was a worthy adversary. I, too, was one of the boys, and I, too, was deserving of their approval.
Recently, I realized this aggressive behavior was merely reflections of the world around me. I had inadvertently internalized misogyny.
Throughout my entire childhood, I had been pursuing the wrong kind of power and validity. I instantly mourned my femininity. I wanted the power that’s inside of me, my own feminine power.
I realized I am enough. Women can be powerful and visible; I shouldn’t have to make myself more masculine in order to legitimize my existence.
It’s now my goal to unwind and undo all of the ways I’ve unintentionally internalized this messaging and attitude. I started doing this by reading about feminism, the foundations of the patriarchy and how it affects everyone, not just women, not just me, but everyone.
As I realized this, I grew enraged at the injustice of it all. These hurtful stereotypes not only affect me as a Latina woman, but every man who carries the burden of being the sole breadwinner and not being able to show an ounce of emotion because “real men don’t cry,” which kills off all emotional parts of themselves and emotionally cripples them all at once.
I say forget everything you know, forget the stereotypes. Be who you want to be, not who you were taught to be. Read about the patriarchy and the systemic oppression we, as Latinos and Latinas, have been stuck following. Educate yourself and you, too, will become enraged.
If there is ever an instance where you, as a woman, do not feel sufficient or seen, you
are not alone. Just know you are seen, you are powerful and, as American author and social activist bell hooks said, “If any female feels she need anything beyond herself to legitimate and validate her existence, she is already giving away her power.”
