JE #3A: A Mujer and the True Lies of Herself

 

JE #3A: Cultural Schizophrenia

 

“Cultural schizophrenia”, I would argue is experienced in two forms. The diagnosed and the undiagnosed, of which I believe I am on the diagnosed side. The only problem is that I can’t remember where, when or how I became diagnosed. Though, I can recall now some of my earliest memories when my religious and social expectations constantly came crashing down on my self-esteem at the mercy of my father’s double-standard house rules.  

            As any normal child would, I wanted to have a slumber party with all my friends from school. We were going to pop popcorn, watch movies, due our make-up and nails, just like they did on Saved by the Bell. And the best part was that I was only going to be at the apartment ten feet across the door of my home. This is the line I used most frequently, when presenting my case to my dad. It was after several years of rejection that the point got across to me . . .it looked bad if girls spent the night at other people’s houses. And it especially looked bad on the parents to give their daughters so much liberty. My parents didn’t want people saying I might be doing something I shouldn’t, it’s not to be talked about, but it's definitely saved for your wedding night.

            And my wedding night was the farthest thing from my mind in those moments. I really wanted to just go play, but what I really got was expectations and standards of how a female should dress and act. The dress code and moral standard expectations almost came as direct holy orders from the Catholic Church itself. The Sunday masses, weekly catechism classes and daily reminders said, "be a pretty, helpless virgin", but do not dare do otherwise or you will be a puta in hell!

            These rigid standards slowly fell apart growing up as many of my "deflowered" friends celebrated their Quinceñeras with a full service mass, father and daughter dance and even the doll dance. A dance where the quinceñera dances with a doll one last time to symbolize that she no longer is a little girl. The now young lady who traditionally wears a white dress as a sign of her pureness and virginity was my friend and I didn’t considered her to be a whore; she just simply decided to have sex with someone.

            This example alone made my “Cultural schizophrenia” more prevalent. The older I got, the more the symptoms became clear within my own culture. I was now not only comparing standards to my white counterparts, but also to the other women from my family and community. In these complex webs of expectations, is where I slowly found other women who have reaped and survived the guilt infections of gender roles. In these connections together we have been able to dodge these mixed and many times hypocritical messages from all aspects of mainstream society.