The Evolution of Beauty

“Youth is beauty, money is beauty, beauty is beauty sometimes…”

-Ani DiFranco

We are brought up in a society that values the physical beauty of a woman sometimes more than other attributes such as intelligence, sensitivity, artistic ability or athleticism.  Often times women who are first or second generation in the U.S. fare worse with this because our active mother/father cultures tend to be more misogynistic. 

But you knew this.  You went to high school and you remember who the pretty popular people were, right?  They weren’t super cool because they had a bad case of acne.

We all know that story so I won’t tell it here.  What I do want to share is this: I am less concerned with being pretty; I want to be powerful. 

I’m not talking power in the western sense i.e. political power.  I’m talking the power of knowing yourself and your own merits without having to have anyone else validate them.  I’m talking about the power to know that your legs will carry you through rough roads because you’re strong and finding the beauty in that even if it doesn’t look like a postcard.  I’m talking about evolution. 

Know thyself, friends.

How To Diss a Vegan

I had spent the entire day becoming more intimate with my two new vegan cookbooks and cooking up a storm.  It was a Sunday afternoon.  I had invited my brother over for some much needed sibling time.  My brother rode his bike all the way to Pilsen from parent’s house in Schiller Park.   That’s at least 20 miles!  Luckily, I was prepared for such an occasion with a fully stocked fridge.

My brother tends to always be hungry and yet he is skinny.  I hate him.  Furthermore, I wanted to feed him considering I had spent all this time cooking a variety of different meals.

I had made lentil soup in the slow cooker, roasted eggplant with quinoa, “chicken” fajitas with black beans all of which were fresh, warm and delicious.  I guess you go kind of crazy when you can’t cook for 40 days, plus I was being squirrel-like and preparing for the week ahead.

My brother walks in and immediately I’m badgering him about what I could feed him (also, I think this is a Mexican female thing where you want to feed men…it’s weird but I digress).  We go back and forth for a while until he looks at me all serious-like and says: Jen, I respect your decision to become a vegan, but I will not allow you to subject me to this type of “food.”

Me: wha?  I mean it’s good, it’s just vegetables.

Him: Exactly.  That’s precisely what I mean.

Me: but everyone eats vegetables!

Him: You know what I ate today, Jen?  I ate like four different animals.  In fact, I don’t even know what types of animals I ate.  Could have been tilapia, could have been salmon, who cares?  Then I’m pretty sure I had some cow, chicken and pork.

Me: Wow, good for you! Murderer! (under my breath)

Him:  It’s just the way the world works, Jen.

Me: You should at least try something, I’ve been cooking all day and I know you’re hungry.

Him: I’m fine. 

He probably ate one of these too.

Twenty minutes later, I heard this popping noise coming out of the kitchen.  I walk out to see what it is and he had the nerve to make popcorn!  I made all of this delicious, hearty, fresh and healthy food and the $#*&@! makes popcorn!!!

Then he looks at me and smiles and says: this popcorn is vegan, right?

Why I Really DO Love My Solo Life

What the hell does it say about me when my friends send me articles like this:

 

 “Lol-this article made me think of you: Ladies if You Want to Pick Up, Wait Until You're Ovulating."

  

I guess the advice is useful and from an evolutionary and genetic standpoint, it makes sense, but WHAT exactly do my friends think of me if articles like this remind them of me?

I went to my parents’ house a few weeks ago. We went out to eat and afterwards my mother decided that we should go to the huge statue of the Virgin Mary (Virgén de Guadalupe) to pray. I’m not one to pray to Christian relics (read more here), but she’s my mother so I reluctantly sat on the bench with her looking at the flowers, candles and souvenirs: the physical embodiment of heartfelt prayers left at the Virgin’s concrete feet.

I watched my mother’s face as she focused hard on something. I asked her what she was praying for thinking that maybe her cousin’s passing had weighed heavier in her mind than I had originally thought.

She turned to me and said, “I am praying that you find a husband soon.”  

Oh.my.GOD!!! I didn’t know whether I should burst out laughing at this statement or take it seriously and thus take a more sensitive approach. I couldn’t hold it. I laughed. Hard.

“Yenny, you know that this is how Juliana found her husband. Her mother prayed and prayed to La Virgén and now look, she is getting married.”

“Oh, I thought she was getting married because she’s seven months pregnant, but I see your point, it must be because La Virgén willed it.”  

“Yenny, la Virgén makes miracles happen.”

What the….?!?! Me finding a boyfriend is not a miracle! Oh dear God, is it? Maybe, considering the shitty dates I’ve had lately. Well, in that case, I guess I used to be a little miracle machine – like for more than 6 years of my life and I can tell you it didn’t feel THAT miraculous.

I had a conversation with some single friends of mine regarding everyone else’s’ emphasis on relationships. I didn’t notice when I was first starting my career how everyone always asked if I had a boyfriend. I must not have noticed because I gave them the right answer. I was always in a relationship; as such, people reacted very warmly to this asking me for details about whatever boyfriend I had at the time. It almost seemed comforting for others around me to know I had a boyfriend, especially my family, despite whether or not they liked the guy I was dating at the time.

Now all of a sudden someone asks and you say you’re not seeing anyone with a huge smile on your face and there’s still that silent awkward little pause or people say: oh don’t worry, you’ll find someone. Really? Oh good, I was worried that I was going to die alone with those nine cats that I’m allergic to in a lonely apartment on the south side with no friends and no children to take me to a nursing home. Thank you for reassuring that that won’t happen to me.

In these blogs, I feel as though maybe I focus on the bad parts of being single like the horrible dates, but truth be told, no one likes to read about the good ones because that’s boring. Also, I don’t go on good dates because I care too much about the blog and you fine people. 

But today I’d like to list the things I love about not being in a relationship:

• I have made SO MUCH art! I’m talking drawings, music, writing…
• I come and go as I please with no need to explain anything to anyone. Save for my job, I’m truly free to do what I want when I want without need for discussions or compromises.
• I’ve met so many new friends that I feel like I will know for life – some from having gone on dates with them and realizing that amazingly lovely friend vibe rather than a romantic one. Not being attached to a relationship opens doors for many other types of relationships to enter your life.
• I love finding comfort in feeling unsettled. It drives me more than most things in life. I am completely portable at all times. The world is my oyster – I can roam through it at any time seeking only to please and care for myself.
• There’s a sense of complete uncertainty that authors and poets romanticize in their memoirs that seems more prevalent when you’re single. The kind where you don’t know exactly where you’re going or how you’re going to get there, but you know you’re going somewhere. Freedom breeds a certain type of youth regardless of age where the ride of your life could be parked on the corner of the dance studio you pass by or it could be waiting for you downstairs from your favorite coffee shop.
• It’s summer and everyone tends to wear less clothing and since you’re single, you can look AND touch.  
• You actually have time between your job and career oriented activities to nurture your hobbies, go back to school, and hang out with new and old friends.
• You don’t feel dependent on anyone. You are a full and whole person on your own. Regardless of how independent you may feel in your relationship there will always be shared activities and things that the other person takes over doing for you because they’re better at it (like dividing household chores or finances or even being the “strong one” usually). When you’re alone there’s a growth that occurs that is unparalleled to growing with another person. Many times it’s from having to do those tasks you don’t like; or having to be that person that you’re not best at being (like the serious one when you thrive on being the fun one).
• I love being my own best company and being completely content without missing anyone else when I’m alone.

Let's Evolve (for our daughters)

I'm re-posting this from a previous blog because obviously the world isn't listening fast enough:

I’d been debating whether I should blog about this type of thing or not, but part of the reason I started my blog was so that I could have a voice in a capacity that I am not normally able in other aspects of my life.  I work within the business community in Chicago.  A great deal of the type of work that I do has to do with developing strong business relationships with business owners and other stakeholders within the Hispanic business community.  I also happen to be a young woman and I like to go out and have a good time by which I mean go out with friends, colleagues, etc. and have a couple of drinks while getting to know each other better or at an event etc. 

It has been more than once that certain men within this community have tried to leverage their position or the role they play within my current network as an excuse to be able to behave inappropriately towards me or towards other women.  It’s become increasingly frustrating for me to deal with and all the while I keep asking myself why I should have to deal with it. 

It’s a catch-22 situation with so many shades of gray.  There have been many many times when I’d like to tell the person exactly what I think porque "no tengo pelos en la lengua," however I’m increasingly cautious of the nature of business relationships and knowing the type of animal I am dealing with.  Most of the time these men that behave so inappropriately are so threatened by women’s power or by feminine energy that politely telling them to please never touch you again or to please fuck off is a direct threat to their masculinity. (Of course I wouldn't say it that way..but I'd want to)  Most of these men are dealing with so much insecurity that to threaten their masculinity in a public place among colleagues and friends would cause the type of reaction that can be explosive and incredibly mean.

As a young woman in business all I have is my reputation.  I need to be incredibly protective of it.  I am careful of the circles I am around and try and keep those circles tight.  Rejecting the advances of someone who is influential within this type of community and that has a strong voice within the organizations and corporations that I work with calling you a man-hating feminist or bitch generally doesn’t preserve your reputation.  Also, when so much in this world is based on perception and not reality; the smoke and mirrors of who you are becomes quite the ugly picture.  I would hate for all the amazing men that I know, that can call themselves feminists, that do their best for their sisters and daughters and wives to help advance other young women in business without having to play this game, to think of me as something so far from what I actually am.

So I sit back, biting my tongue, lumps forming in my throat out of anger, and smile sweetly laughing along to the disgusting conversation while sinking deeper into my chair.  What can I do?  If I ask them to please not speak to me in that manner in the nicest way, then I become the prude that everyone feels they need to be careful around to protect my feelings and that's not who I am.  I’m simply a rational human being that hates having to put up with other peoples’ issues or bullshit simply because I was born 26 years ago a woman.  I make sure they feel my icy reaction not encouraging their behavior, but am I condoning it by not saying anything?  Have I become part of the game that I hated?

I am so grateful to all the women that came before me in business for paving the way so that I could work within this world and feel around me an endless sea of possibilities.  We still have so much work to do but now it’s up to me and the intelligent women of my generation to do it.

I had had quite a few close calls with men in the past while traveling by myself in Mexico and in Spain.  They upset me at the time so much but they were “cultural differences” or “cultural misunderstandings.”  I was different; I came from a world where women could say what they want, could be free, could travel by themselves and have a great conversation with someone of the opposite sex and it not mean she was wanting anything more.  Now, I see this in my community and my own backyard and the issue is more complex than what I ever imagined.  It's imbedded in all societies in some capacity and it's going to be a long hard road to change it, but I've got my walking shoes on and I'm in it for the long haul.

Fuerza to all of my sisters!

I leave you with this poem I wrote when I was 19:

When I was younger I used to turn my turtle onto her shell just to watch her extend her neck and flip herself over.  Now I’m rolling out of someone else’s bed with the taste of vodka and cigarettes in my too-dry mouth remembering voices praying a thousand Santa Marias in the living room of my abuela’s house the day she died.  My parents used to carry wooden rosaries, my brother and I would carry thick fallen branches we’d find in the woods.  They always gave me splinters and made my hands feel dirty but it wasn’t as bad as the time I stood, just barely, pushed against a fence my hands forced over my head by a stronger hand, while the other wandered around my chest looking for what other secret places he could find next…my hamster used to dig into the wooden chips of his cage to try to escape, but he never did like I did, into this giant ant colony of a city and life is writing me Post-It notes:

• ·         Don’t forget to pay your rent
• ·         Remember how he loved you once?
• ·         And so Jen…who are you now?

Speak Softly and Carry a Big Stick

My phone died yesterday.  I was supposed to meet my friend at this bar I’d never been at.  I ended up walking the wrong way and came upon this park downtown.  I saw this gorgeous dog and its very friendly owner.  I stopped to chat with her for a bit (and try to get directions) and as destiny should have it; she’s a business owner.

I told her my dream of owning my own business one day (well, one of them) and she was so gracious to offer me some good advice: speak softly and carry a big stick.

I don’t have any tattoos.  I used to date a guy with tattoos (okay maybe there were a couple) and I’d always get asked if I had any.  I don't.  I always said that I enjoy not being defined by things physically like piercings or tattoos because it allowed me to be more shaman-like: shape-shifting from board rooms to wolf sanctuaries to galas.  I liked being ambiguous and non-definable – there’s power in that.  I realized that from an early age that if others can’t grasp you, they can’t pin anything to you. 

 I’m grateful for having walked a mile out of way into that park last night.