The following essay was read aloud at a “Grown-Up Story-Telling” event at Aeronaut Brewery in Somerville, MA on July 26, 2017.
Things are so precarious at the beginning of new relationships. Something that feels exciting can easily be deflated by a bad kiss, a Ben Carson bumper sticker, or an admission like “Yeah, I don’t know, I just don’t like many books written by women.” Any of these offenses can instantly kill the sizzle that has built up over a couple of dates. While most people end up getting dumped unwittingly, not knowing what they did that made things fizzle out, sometimes you need a grand gesture to stop a relationship in its tracks. In that case, I have a suggestion for you. Recently, my budding relationship met an untimely death due to a rather unexpected culprit: a Yelp review.
Hey friends, I’m back to writing!
Sorry it’s been so long. Since I last posted, I took some time off to take a writing class, finish the school year, move, and start my graduate school applications. Big things are happening, but I finally have time to write again and I couldn’t be happier.
Stay tuned for the next installment!
Have you ever wonder who reads my posts before they go public? Who listens to nascent blog ideas when they’re in the word-vomit stage? On this one year blogiversary, I would be remiss if I did not publicly thank two of my friends who are also my editors. The Part-Time Diary would not exist without them. Or, it might exist, but with more excessive semi-colons, half-finished ideas, and IDEAS IN ALL CAPS THAT I WRITE TO MYSELF AS NOTES AND WOULD FORGET TO DELETE IF SOMEONE DIDN’T TELL ME TO.
(see? that sentence ends in a preposition. Too bad I can’t run my post about my editors by my editors).
In the unlikely case that Sherman Alexie ever finds this blog, I would hope he would be flattered at my titular choice. It’s inarguable that his most famous novel has an unwieldy name: The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian. But I have a lengthy name as well (my full one is thirty letters long), so let’s just say we’re suited for each other and move on.
In her seminal essay “A Room of One’s Own,” Virginia Woolf identifies two things that women need to be successful writers: the eponymous location, and money. Seeing as I only have one out of two of these requirements, this is a part-time diary of a full-time working girl. I also switched the adjectives in Alexie’s title because being Latina is not a part-time occupation.
Latinidad is not a snakeskin to be easily shed. It doesn’t come out only when I speak Spanish, watch Jane the Virgin, or charm the Cuban ladies at my local empanada place. I can’t hide my ethnicity by lopping off my second name, mispronouncing Spanish words, or hiding behind my so-called whiteness. I would lose too much of myself. I would become what Anglo society would like me to be: a girl with a convenient name. I won’t be convenient for anyone. I am not always a bridge to your understanding.
This blog will feature my comments on pop culture, feminism, race and ethnicity, and all of the other good things I like to write about. Regular posts may include “Oknever,” (bad messages I’ve received on online dating websites), “Teachable Moments,” (as much as I can share about my job on the internet without getting in trouble), and “This Week in Masculinity” (putting my gender studies degree to good use.)
Thanks for reading. Lo agradezco.