Editor's Note: Gina Román joins our team of writers this month to tell us a very different Getting Here story. As a Mexican American she can tell us her experiences in both worlds.
When people ask me where I'm from, I always respond the same way, "I am too Mexican to be American and too American to be Mexican. I've spent all of my life enslaved to the magic and beauty of two cultures, which at the beginning bewildered and overwhelmed me, but made me a stronger person. These two different worlds are part of my destiny, what determines my morals and values as a human being, not as a Mexican or an American, but as an individual."
Gina Román, tells us that her life experiences have made her neither wholly Mexican nor completely American. While always her own entity, Gina easily takes on the persona of her two worlds. (Left:) Gina Román is as glamorous and elegant as any Tapitia (Guadalajaran woman). (Right:) Gina is also as poised, efficient and capable as any working woman in el norte (the north), doing all she can to change her world.
Coming back to Mexico ignited the many memories of my childhood that had been stored in the back of my mind—priceless memories of coming, going and moving all the time. As I stepped off the plane I had a moment of great clarity and could suddenly hear, see, feel and understand everything: the smells, the people, the etched marks on their bronze skin, proof of a lifetime of arduous work, the culture, the customs, the food, the colors, the liveliness, the language and countless moments that I had experienced in Mexico as a child.
Those earliest memories are vague and a mixture of two different worlds: Mexico and el norte (the north) as many Mexicans call it, the dream land, the land of opportunities, the land of a "better life." California was where I lived the best moments of my life as a child and as a young adult. I lived stress-free, going to school, meeting friends, spending time with them, becoming an adult, discovering many of life's beauties.
I spent the first half of my life looking for answers, trying to identify myself, to place each piece of the puzzle where it belonged, hoping to define who I was, and what life wanted me to be. All I knew was that I was here, alive, for a purpose but I needed to decipher it.
I had to fight for my beliefs—especially raised as I was in a very traditional Catholic family. I had to get the courage to do many things, to fight for my freedom. We were so closely knit and my father was very controlling. I was always in an inner battle to find my "real" self, to understand who was "right" and who was "wrong."
When I looked down on Guadalajara from the plane on a late, rainy night, I could see the rows of street lights illuminating the city, just like they did when I left. I remembered Mexico the same way I remembered the various places we lived in California, in a blur as we moved from one city to another. We moved so often that as a child I always felt as if we were running away from something, an invisible force that we feared without a reason. Asking my father why he moved us so frequently was pointless; he'd just look away and not respond—the way many Mexicans do. They lock themselves up in their own little niche; they shut down to protect themselves from revealing their true feelings, their real selves, and to avoid having to give explanations. I don't blame them because that is the way my people were raised in the old times, lacking communication. They grew up with many taboos, always feeling guilty about something and wearing a mask to hide behind—but we can't get into that because that's a whole new ball of wax and I'd have to write a whole book to explain it.
I learned American customs but I also had Mexican customs; I was in a constant debate with both sides of myself. If I did something that my parents wouldn't approve of, I'd think to myself, Maybe this is not right because it is not in my culture. On the other hand, if I did something differently, I'd find it disrespectful according to American standards. Being caught up between two different ethnicities confused me; I made decisions that were not the best for me. Many experiences left scars in my mind, in my soul and in my body because I didn't want to take people's advice. But that's what life is about: sometimes we must learn the hard way, get hurt, learn and move on.
I've adopted many Mexican habits just as I have adopted American ones. When I speak, Tapatios (natives of Guadalajara) tell me that my Spanish reveals an "American" accent and from time to time outsiders tell me that my English reveals my "Mexican - Latino" heritage. The bottom line is that everyone has a different accent; people from the north and south of Mexico don't have the same accent; it's the same for Americans, Canadians, Asians and everyone else in this world. My accent is not an obstacle, it is part of me—I am proud of it—it reveals the two sides of me. The color of my skin is not an issue either because these minor things in life don't dictate who I am or what I am capable of accomplishing. I am who I am. Every day I strive to be a better human being, I try to help the less fortunate and as time goes by, I am one step closer to becoming the human being I was meant to be.
Coming from a Mexican father and a half Mexican mother, the first years of my life I was brought up like (almost) every Mexican, eating abundant meals, speaking Spanish at home, and spending long periods of time with my parents and my siblings. Even though I was raised as a "Mexican," it's been difficult for me to re-adjust to the Mexican world. There are many good and bad aspects about both cultures but I can't complain because they are both filled with many wonders and they've shaped the human being I am today.
One of the hardest things for me to cope with is the way people drive. It took more than a year to get the courage to buy a car and get on the road. Watching Mexicans drive sometimes makes me feel as though they don't appreciate their lives—others tell me it is part of being Mexican to live in that strange place of turning the entire responsibility for their life or death over to God, saying, "Si Díos quiere" ("If God wants"). I've witnessed many shocking incidents but the worst was while I walked downtown. A big green Chevy pick-up came storming down Avenida Juarez. The driver and the other man in the passenger's seat were both smiling nonchalantly enjoying the fast ride, weaving in and out of traffic. Suddenly I realized that there was an older woman in a wheelchair in the back of the pickup. Oh, Lord, bless that poor woman, I said to myself. Looking around to see people's reactions, I was even more horrified when I saw everyone's indifference, perhaps they thought of it as something normal, an everyday occurrence.
I've learned to adjust to many differences in these past few years here, but I'll never accept the lack of punctuality. Whether it is students, friends, co-workers, my accountant, or my mechanic, they are always late when we are meeting. It bothers me even more that they don't call or send a quick text message.
I am curious to know why they do it every single time, so I ask them, and they always have an excuse. It's the weather, or there was an accident, are standard excuses. The most shameless one is, "It's in the culture." I get infuriated when they say this because, first of all, that is not an excuse and, secondly of all, who makes the culture, habits, customs, morals, values? It's us, the people. I believe in respecting people's time, I don't like wasting anyone else's time and when someone is constantly late or when they don't show up, it makes me feel like they don't value my time and they don't take anything seriously. What is even more disappointing is that many foreigners adopt the same habit, after living here for a while. I guess they think that if everyone else does it, why shouldn't they.
When I watch TV and see commercials about the government fighting bribery it feels like a slap in the face. I've seen many people bribe police officers to avoid getting a fine. Why do they do it? Because they know they can and will get away with it. I've seen native people doing it, I've seen foreigners doing it, everybody does it and I have to admit that I even tried doing it once—but it didn't work. Now that's silly, isn't it. The first time and I couldn't even do it right. Every time I think of that moment I still get a kick out of it—and I am still ashamed of myself.
Although, we share our towns with shady people, there are many good hearted natives and foreigners who are willing to help one another, striving to live in a better world, anxious to work for Mexico to evolve as a country and be a safer place for the endless generations to come.
Once I researched and then wrote an article about the number of books read by Mexicans in a year. I was alarmed and saddened by the results I discovered—on the average, each person reads only two books a year. Now I'm trying to combat that and have set a rule for my ESL (English as a Second Language) students. Every single one of my students has to read a book.
A few of them have read throughout their lives, most of them have now adjusted to reading and are enjoying it, and some of them I'm still trying to get to stick with it, but overall I am very content with the results. One of my fundamental beliefs is that every human being is here for a reason and my goal for this time in Guadalajara is to help my people adopt better habits, to help them appreciate and learn more about the beauty of their country, and to help their children become better individuals by fostering the reading culture in them.
The number of books read has increased since last year and I will continue to help this statistic grow when the new Juan Jose Arreola Library opens in my neighborhood of Zapopan.
When it comes to talking about women, their health, their bodies, their beauty, their professionalism, I can go on and on for days because I am a woman and we are carved with the same stone and I want us all to be the best we can.
I see many women who perform hard tasks being mothers, homemakers, wives, workers and innumerable other roles. They are very thorough with every single detail. For them, their children, their husbands, their house, everything else comes first. What about them though?
They forget about themselves and their health. They know all the members in the family better than they know themselves; they are trapped in a body that is only there to serve its purpose. What I mean by this is that many women still live ashamed of their bodies, of expressing its needs, they are embarrassed to go to the doctor for a regular checkup, they are even embarrassed by looking at themselves in the mirror. I try to make as many of them see that their health and their bodies are completely normal and that they shouldn't be embarrassed of what is totally natural. Being embarrassed of our nature is giving up who are, we mustn't forget that we are beautiful human beings and we are capable of creating another human being. It's a long process but I will help every woman who is willing to appreciate her womanhood without being fearful.
I could continue to point out countless incidents about both of my worlds, about the many things I like and dislike—but I'd never finish this article. So, one of my lifetime goals is to write a book about everything I've experienced as a Mexican American.
Many things about both worlds infuriate me every once in a while, but I can't change anyone or anything, change must start within. That's why I like helping people be better human beings; I don't look at them as Mexicans, I look at them as individuals. What I do know is that I am not American, I am not Mexican, and I am not perfect. I am Gina Román. I am my own individual, and to remain my own individual, I will never give up my last name no matter what because that is my legacy, what defines me, my brand, it's part of me and it makes me the person I am today.
Reflections"The more I think, the more amazed I get and realize how much knowledge I lack of my own culture. As I manifest my thoughts on paper, I watch as my fingers grip, staring at the pen moving upon the paper-...I am amazed as I observe, the way the ink creates a word, the way the word creates a meaning and the way the meaning creates a purpose and the way the purpose creates an action ...and how the Action creates a Destiny." Not long ago, I sat down and pondered on what my purpose in this life was and what destiny holds for me. How God allows all the pieces in the puzzle to come together in each human being's life. A long time went by before I learned the reason behind my being here until a few months ago, all I was aware of was that I had a strong desire to learn more and do something with the knowledge I'd gain from living in Guadalajara. I knew all along that I came here for a reason, I just had to dig that reason from the rubble in my mind and heart since it was buried deep down. When I chatted with Shayne (my blog partner) I realized that we shared the same thoughts, same desires, to help people who come visit or live here, even help the natives. Why not teach everyone who wants to learn; students, retirees, tourists and the entire world about what Guadalajara has to offer? Why not tell them about our own experiences? about the food and culture? Why not tell them that many times things will not necessarily be what they had expected? Why not tell them to learn to appreciate each and every aspect of it? Why not walk them through the insightful experience of living here? Why not teach them to change their mindset about the not so "good" experiences?" Why not tell them that they have to bare in mind that living in Mexico is like living in a completely different world? Why not orient them and tell them about volunteer work? How we can change many peoples' lives by spending time with them? Doing this helps me identify and blend in more with my own culture and background. As a Mexican-American I have the advantage of living in two beautiful worlds, in having two different perspectives, in thinking in both languages and more important, to know how magical and beautiful it is to appreciate both sides of the coin. Earlier this week I visited "Acortar Distancias"
http://www.acortardistancias.org/ It is an organization supported by the government which was created about 11 years ago. It was built in one of many extremely low-income areas in the outskirts of the city. The purpose of it is to get young adults and children out of the streets and teach them to use their time productively. All of these children come from illiterate parents who have to work long hours for menial salaries leaving them without any time to spend with their children and much less to educate them. One of the many wonders of this organization is that they support the mothers/women to join their children by providing childcare so they don't make up any excuses to not attend. Having been involved in charity work for many years, I know for a fact that many people visit all those unfortunate countries to do volunteer work so I encourage everyone to visit "Acortar Distancias" and make a difference in peoples' lives. Acortar Distancias among many other reasons is what makes me want to be in Guadalajara because it is such an enriching experience. God bless!
Writing Can Transform our lives: I never imagined that writing could be an escape from my "reality," and much less did I imagine that some day my thoughts would be open to the world so everyone could see right through me. As a Mexican woman I love expressing myself (more through writing), I can be extremely emotional, that's why I can relate to many "tapatias" women from Guadalajara. As an ESL Teacher, I have contact with many great Mexican ladies and I've noticed the same pattern in them again and again. Many times women try to hide their feelings behind that "invisible mask," they don't express themselves because they dread peoples' reactions, especially their families judging them. At times they give up their goals and desires because they are too afraid to take the challenge or because they are afraid of someone else's critique. Many ladies have opened up themselves to me and dared to confess many things that they'd never even come close to expressing to anyone else because they don't want to be judged by the cruel mankind who sets society's standards so they conform to do what others"want them to become."Deep inside I can see where they're coming from and I can identify myself with them, as a little girl, I remember growing up with many taboos and high expectations, someone always feeling guilty about something, many limitations a lot of depriving the girls in the family , "don't do this because you are a woman and it's a sin." "a woman must not talk like that, what will people think of you?"In my early childhood I didn't have the slightest clue of how to express the way I felt when something "bad" happened to me or when I felt good about something, we never think about these things because it's human nature to always believe that "bad" things only happen to other people, we always deserve good things. When misfortune comes our way, we find ourselves surprised, confused, scared, angry, sad, frustrated, upset and all the negative vibes. So I turned to my diary, it became my best friend, more than a place to record daily events. It became the friend who was available 24/7, it was more than just a phone call away! it's been there all the time; it'll be my shadow through eternity and it'll never ever vanish. all I have to do is reach for it and it will come to me. The friend, the paper that it was made of has always been so ready and willing to accept anything and everything I've had to confide, my complaints, my ups and downs, my accomplishments, my frustration, my bad vibes, the adrenaline and energy every time I run a marathon, my good moments, my anger, those moments when I felt so lonely and empty, my friend always so willing to take what I've to say without putting up a wall between us or without ever going away, without judging me. At last I'd found someone who could handle my fear, my questions, the pressure I put on myself and others, my sadness. Since I discovered the beauty of writing it's been my escape and it will continue to be so until I cease to exist.When one can pour oneself on a great white emptiness and fill it out with thoughts and emotions and leave them there forever, when one can write an infinite number of beautiful words, the way those words can create a meaning and the way that meaning creates a destiny and the way that destiny dictates our lives. For many writers, writing has become a therapy for dealing with this tough journey called "life," a difficult truce in which many human beings give up because they can't handle it. It is perfectly ok to be afraid but what makes "you"different in this world, is how you handle fear. I've been terrified to hop out of bed every morning but fear has not stopped me from facing the world, overcoming all the obstacles I've had to come across and accomplish all my goals.We have to understand that life brings good and bad things, it makes us sad and happy in our own homes, within our families, in school, at work on the street. Sometimes we suffer because of many things over which we have no control, the shapes of our imperfect bodies, the color of our skin, poverty, our religion, politics, our family, our jobs, our love life. It can be easy to become a victim of our circumstances and continue feeling sad, angry and frustrated; or instead we can choose to deal with injustive humanely and break the chains of negative thoughts and energies and not allow ourselves sink into it. We have two options; live, learn and move on, or become prisioners of our own anger, skepticism and frustration, we have the choice to forgive and release all the bad feelings especially with the people we love. We have to learn to give up pride and stop hiding because it will get to us sooner or later. Troughout the years I've learned that writing about the things that happen to us allows us to look objectively at what's going on around us and turn negative experience into something positive and useful. This process requires a lot of work, effort, greatness, forgiveness, but is it possible? Certainly!Our paths can definitely be difficult at times but we can make them powerful and worthwile if we turn all that negativity into something good and even better teach others. This is what I share with "my ladies," my students, I encourage them to have a diary and express themselves, especially if they are afraid of others judging them. That way the release all the baggage they've carried for a long time. With some of them it's worked, with some of them "it hasn't."It does work for everyone. The point here is that for those who say it doesn't work, it's because they are afraid of their inner persoon inside them and they choose to run away from themselves, they put that "self" to sleep hoping it'll never wake up. It will. If you think you can run from others, stop and realize that perhaps the only being you are running away from, is yourself. One of the most important lessons life has taught me, is to face everything and everyone as much as I may dread doing it . Or I can choose to avoid it and I won't have inner peace. I'll always continue to question myself "I should've done this," How come I didn't show the people that I loved that I do care about them?" Until the next time!
Tequila and its Goddess "Mayahuel"
Sunday August 2nd, 2009 This weekend was rather busy so I won’t keep you readers long since tomorrow is Monday again and a long week lies ahead of us. Yesterday was a very exciting day as I was hired by the CRT Consejo Regulador del Tequila to do simultaneous translation work for a group of foreigners representing a bank based in Washington D. C. The CRT is in charge of making sure all the tequila distilleries in the industry meet the requirements and standards when exporting their product. They deal with everything as far as regulating the tequila process, making life a lot easier for all the importers and expoters. When I was living in California I only knew of two Tequila brands; Jose Cuervo and Cazadores, I was unaware that there are hundreds of brands out in the market. And of course, much less was I unaware of this magical drink’s origin. Some of you may have heard different versions of the story and some of you may have not so I’ll share my own based on what I’ve learned. For those of you who haven’t, I’ll take you back to the pre-Hispanic era when the natives of a small town called “La Galicia” now better known as “Tequila” about 65 kilometers from Guadalajara started growing “agave,” the plant from which juice is extracted to make Tequila now known world wide. According to a myth, agave first originated from la “Diosa Mayahuel” The Goddess of Tequila. Mayahuel was a beautiful young woman (one of many stars) living in the sky with her cruel grandmother – “tzintzimitl”, a group of stars whose job was to prevent the sun from rising. Unfortunately Mayahuel fell in love with Quetzalcoatl (God’s messenger to illuminate humankind) so she ran away with him and came to earth to conclude her affair on a tree deceiving her grandmother and the other stars. When she was discovered, her grandmother sent the “tzitzimime” to kill them. Quetzalcóatl was fortunate enough to escape but Mayahuel was burned by the star’s fire and died so Quetzalcóatl saddened and defeated by her love’s death picked up her remains and buried her under the tree where they lived such brief romance. Shortly after, the first “agave” plant sprouted on top of her grave and since then the natives of the land extracted a juice called “pulque” from this plant and used it as an offering to the Gods. Other drinks like “Mezcal” and “Pulque” also derive from the agave but they’re made in other states of Mexico.Tequila is mainly made in Tequila Jalisco and the word “Tequila” comes from the náhuatl origin meaning "Lugar de Tributos,” a place to pay tribute to the Gods. Nowadays Tequila and its surrounding areas; Teuchitlan, Amatitan, El Arenal and Magdalena are a few of tourists' favorites places to visit.
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