12 Apr

My grandfather died in 2004, I was seven at the time. I remember how it happened vividly, but I vaguely remember why he died. I understood through conversations with my grandmother and aunt that he had lung cancer and was very sick for a couple of months, but I cannot remember one moment where I saw him like that. He was always strong, loving, caring. It pains me to say that I cannot remember a moment where I was there for them because I cannot recall a moment where I felt he needed help.

When he died, my cousins prayed for my grandfather to speak them in his dreams. They told me stories about seeing him on the edge of their beds and holding a conversation with him. I prayed for my grandfather to not come out while I slept because I knew I would be afraid of him and I did not want him to think that I feared him because I love him. I think he heard me because he never came into my dreams, until yesterday.

I had my first dream with him. He came up to me, held my hand, and we started walking. I woke with no clue that I had dreamt this until I spoke to my father and the words slipped out of my mouth. “I had a dream with grandpa last night.” And thats when I noticed that I did. “Sometimes we see those who have passed in our dreams” he replied. I never knew he saw him too.

Although it was a dream that lasted a short period of time, it was one that I have not stopped thinking about since I spoke to my dad. Why now grandpa? Am I ready to hear from you? Is 18 the age you were waiting for? Are you trying to tell me something?

Please, do not wait eleven years to speak to me again. I miss you.

Double Consciousness

16 Mar

Its been a while since I felt that I have had a safe place to write, and I still have not found that space. All of the pressures of society follow me everywhere I go and disturb my place of comfort. “You are too fat.” “You are too skinny.” “you are too quiet. “You don’t speak up enough.” “you are sweet and innocent.” “I expected better.” “You are…”

More likely than not,  I am turned into a product of those surrounding me. The double consciousness that Dubois expressed lives inside me every single day, as heat is added to my identity the more it grows, like bacteria. One that does not die, but only continues to evolve like a flu. Every year I ingest a flu shot filled with confidence and courage to speak out, but the growing ignorance changes every year through various experience. “Wow, you are actually smart.” “I’m glad to have you in this class because you bring in a new perspective.” “You should speak up more, your experiences could be very valuable to the other students.”

No one knows how my blood bubbles as the words struggle to come out. Each syllable an eagle growing in my stomach as the crow is not too far behind, ready to kill words that resemble my truth. People tell me that it is not true through their expressions because of readings they have studied in a different class. Many fail to realize that my truth is not in the hands of the many you have read. My ears turn hot as the words I say are watered down by my red cheeks. And After the silence, the words that I should have said slides the quick sand I nicknames my heart. Lost and never to be found again, not even a little bit; no matter how many times another situation comes again it will never bring up the words I once wanted to say. They are lost with my identity as I see it transform into what others say of me.

To be liked

15 Feb

It is so weird to be the girl that is liked. Boys always came up to me because I was the nice girl, the innocent one that they wanted to toy with. It is hard to think that someone would actually like me for me without their personal goals in it. The last boy I was with pursued me because I was a goal. He told me he saw me and told his friends, “She’s going to be my girlfriend,” as if I was his short term goal. The only success he had to hold on to until recently. I realized it was always a game and a test to himself to see how long he could keep me around. And once he got bored, there was no effort, and I got bored too.

But to actually be liked and respected and not a goal or some girl to pass time or have fun with feels amazing.

I am an Exceptionality

13 Feb

I am taking a course called Exceptionalities for Students in Elementary School. We learned that people who are disabled are to be called people first. That may sound crazy in the sense that it seems that most of us already do, but the truth is that we don’t. How many times have you heard someone refer to a child with a disability as “the disabled child,” as if they were their disability before there were people. The language of people first can change the worth of someone’s identity by simply flipping a couple of words around. I am learning a lot in this class, but one of the most important things I have learned is that I am an exceptionality.

It is called Culturally Linguistically Diverse. it is when a child from a different cultural background starts to have trouble in academics because of the cultural difference. To expand the understanding of how native culture can interfere with secondary culture I will use a boy in the text book we read. The boy was asked, “what are the four seasons?” He answered, “fishing season, deer season, duck season, and rabbit season.” Technically he is not wrong depending on the culture, but he got it incorrect because of the Americanized education. This does not mean that he is incompetent or does not understand the question, his answer simply represented his culture.  Getting a question incorrect is the bare minimal of it. most of those  especially Latino and African American, are placed into special education because they are believed to have a learning disability. It is present in the educational system because it was built to benefit the majority, but I am the minority.

It is difficult for a child to grow up in an education that benefits the majority because culturally it is different. Being a first generation Dominican American, I found getting an education extremely difficult as early as kindergarden. Spanish was my first language and I learned english through cartoons. I was doing well in english when it came to conversations, but my brain could not connect the letters and sounds to words because I did not even know the english alphabet. I was pulled out of my classes for a year and half to learn how to read and write in english until I was at my grade level, but that was the least of it.

Growing up I had no one to rely on at home to help me with my assignments. I knew as early as five years old that I would need to take advantage of my teachers to make sure that I knew everything that I needed to know before I went home because I knew I would be on my own. My mom would not be able to read me the task or help me understand the sounds of the alphabet because she was not familiar with the english language.

My native language, facial features, and skin color all contribute to the prejudice I receive in America. My knowledge is questioned because of my ethnicity as if I cant be Latino and smart at the same time. This is the issue that is raised in the American education system because people do not acknowledge how other cultures affect a child trying to live an American life. People forget that we are exceptionalities.

Granted.. love story of confused help and no Google definition to help

29 Jan

Have you ever slept too much your eyes hurt? Well, this is not one of those times. My eyes hurt because of the vagueness that I am seeing in my relationship. It is hard to ask for something and not get it four months later. It is hard to be with a person and still not know everything in their life. It is hard to try to understand things that go on in their life when they have not even told you. It is harder to understand someone who only sees the now when you see ten years down the line.

Yet, he says he pictures us together, a family in a two bedroom apartment within the bedford neighborhood where on one side is the water with the landscape of the city and on the other side are the thrift shops and cute cafes that will later be saturated with our future memories. And I can see it too and that is the worse part. We are only eighteen and to think I have found the perfect man seems absurd. But he is everything I asked for, he is deeper than most people see him and more intelligent than he knows. He has amazing theories about life. The most special part about it is when we are together, he aims to kiss my forehead or my cheek. But lately he does not reach out his hand to hold mine, he does not think about my happiness before his own. He has times when he gets sidetrack and I feel like I am an asset to his life he has forgotten. It has not been just me and him for a while, its been me, him, and video games. The ones he gets lost in with the memories of when we use to lay in separate beds miles away from each other, but still feel as if we were right next to each other. We use to talk about our futures and our past and everything in between. We use to reply back within seconds, he use to tell me his life and it was not like trying to sustain the life of a fish out of water.

I just want to know his thoughts and opinions and how he actually feels. They say actions speak louder than words, but what happens when both are saying the same thing and you are trying not think about them too much. I know I am cared for and I know I am loved but that does not always show. I want a phone call without having to complain about it, I want him to ask me for my fee time so we can Skype. I want him to come surprise me at my school. In all honesty, a lot of the things I use to do as a cute girlfriend, I do not do anymore because it is just scary to put myself out there and have him respond with just a kiss face emoji or an I love you that seems force. I do not see how he wants to spend forever with me when I do not want to spend forever with myself. I do not want to be this person forever, I want to evolve as time goes and I do not know I will be able to do that when I have someone accountable of what I use to be. I want to dance, not with anyone in particular, just dance. He does not like to and that is really hard for me. Dancing is the only unexplainable thing that makes me feel pure, happy.

I sent him a long paragraph this morning, but I am sure he is only going to reply with a sentence. And when he does I will send him this so that he may reply with a sentence as well. I just do not understand what went wrong. I do not understand how he could be content with just texting and nothing else. It makes me wonder if I am really that important to him or just some time to pass by. I am scared to leave because I know I will never find anyone who supports me like he does in everything I do. I am scared to leave because I do not want to realize the wonderful man I have after I lost him. I am scared to leave because he might be the only person to actually understand me. I am scared to stay because it may all be a lie. I am scared to stay because at times when he says I love you I can smell the roses through his text but I do not feel his heart in sync with mine. I am scared to stay because one day if he ever does leave I will remain so heart broken it will be hard to put my heart back together again. You see, my heart is like a glass cup, once it breaks it is difficult to find the small pieces. All you find are the bigger pieces. Everyone knows the cup can never really be complete without the small pieces that you have lost forever.

To come to conclusion… there is none. I know that if he did cute little things to show his appreciation, called, and Skype, that I will be in the perfect relationship. But, right now it seems as if I’m giving and he’s taking. I am reaching out my hand to trap something, but come out empty each time. I want to be known as valuable because I am an amazing woman. I need to be known as one.


12 Jan

If it would not have been for the little hope that I get from certain people each day I do not think I will be able to continue to be myself. In a world like today, it is hard to be comfortable enough to ignore the judgements. But I love who I am! I would have not come to that conclusion without the many people who have showed me my worth.
I am so grateful for all the people in my life and all the great privileges I have. I am so glad to have my family, friends, and boyfriend who make me smile every day. I cannot see a day without any of them and I really hate to think about it.

Happiness is a choice

10 Jan

Planning is so stressful, especially for a big event. Yet I have never felt more accomplish then to complete something someone stated I couldn’t do. I remember being the girl who had a lot to prove and in many ways I still am that girl, but I have grown. Now, I do not need to rely everything I do on the opinions of others, instead I rely on the benefits of my happines.

That might have been the most important thing I have learned in 2014. Happiness is a choice! And I decide everyday.


Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 52 other followers