-Christopher Lasch, The Culture of Narcissism
I thought extensively about how this paper should be written and about what should be said. And as much as I think I know about the world and my community, I can only really speak truthfully about myself. And although I feel like I have reached a time in my life where I can feel confident in defining and describing who I am, I was ultimately confused and overwhelmed as to where to begin.
I had a two hour long conversation earlier in the day with a person I could not be more different from. He is my foremost challenger, my aggressor, and because he and I are in love with the same person, he is also my competitor. We rarely agree on anything and when we do, we have conflicting opinions on how to approach them. I avoid confrontations with him because I typically walk away upset, but today, I am glad we had a chance to speak because he challenged me to think critically about myself. Today, I walked away enlightened and can now properly begin this assignment.
We discussed identities – how they are formed and how, if at all, they can be expressed in art. During this discussion, he asked me if I automatically identity myself as a woman. And while I have never had to, I realized that acknowledging myself as a woman means everything. While I am Latina, Mestiza, twenty-four years old, a sister, a daughter, a lover, and a friend, I am also much more. Yet, I now realize that the ideologies and behaviors that reflect these identifications have everything to do with the fact I see myself as a woman.
As I think back, my journey of self-discovery did not truly begin until I began to feel that my religion and denomination (Catholic) made significant distinctions between men and women. It felt right to call myself a woman, and it felt wrong that I should be treated differently by my church because I did. Shortly afterwards, I was told that it would be a sin for me to never give birth. While I think motherhood is one of the greatest opportunities in life, it does not make a better woman. A different one, maybe, but not a better one. The realization that the church I had been raised to believe in whole heartedly had made me a second class citizen caused me to question almost everything else in my life.
I was raised in a hectic household, where there always tens of other things going on. If you wanted to be heard in my family, you had to speak up. I learned to exert myself vocally very young. And to this day, I am rarely ever quiet. My parents worry about me for many different reasons, but they have told me that they are at peace knowing that I will always defend myself. This quality has trickled over into my romantic relationships, friendships, and professional experiences. Most people I meet love my opinionated personality, some people hate me. But I have always strived to be humble, compassionate, and most importantly, respectful because I am aware that a strong personality is hard to swallow. I have learned that respecting others has the most positive results.
My family is not poor nor is it wealthy, economically. But I am rich with love, and my family has supported me regardless of my mistakes. It has meant everything to me knowing that even if I fall, there will many people there to pick me up. And although I have many days in which I feel that I am insignificant, unappreciated, and undeserving, I push on. I have a pretty good self-esteem, and I attribute that to the fact that I have been told that will succeed. Because I have felt the effects of positive praise, I feel that one mission in my life is to pass it on. I have worked extensively with people of all ages. Some suffer trauma from physical, emotional, or sexual abuse they experienced as children. And I have known others who have been neglected and discriminated against because of mental retardation or mental illness. And it angers me because ultimately, I feel guilty. Why have I been so lucky? The bittersweet experiences in my own life inspire me to help others. And while it has not been easy, I will never give up.
I have been be patronized by male medical, engineering, and science majors at UTSA for majoring in a social science (anthropology). What are you going to do with that, they ask. Teach?
And they say it like it’s a bad thing.
While I do not wish to teach professionally, I have seen the effects that it has had on people and on my community. It saddens me that helping others is a gendered gesture. Woman – the nurturer.
While I have learned in school that even compassion has to be taught, I sometimes do feel like I could not do anything different even if I wanted to. I could never be an engineer, although I know I am definitely smart enough to be (although men have actually told me that women are not as smart as they are). I could never be a Western doctor because I would never want to charge for my services.
And sometimes I am not sure where my passion for people comes from, but I know I have been influenced by the actions and morals of my parents. Sometimes I do not know why I feel the need to self-describe myself as a feminist. But I know that I am comfortable in my body. And I love my curves because, while I could easily hate them, they are physical representations of my ancestors’ past. I am a sexual woman – although I sometimes feel like I am supposed to be ashamed to admit it. But I think the most important quality I hold as a woman is that I love. And because any gender is capable of doing this, maybe Vanessa the Woman is really just Vanessa.
