I never learned to sew

A friend of mine posted this article and has an amazing story about what it’s like to be female in this world for so many of us, and why it’s important to learn to come to peace with one’s flaws if one is to have any hope for happiness.

Between that and the usual wave of regrets that hit every new year, sort of along these lines, I want to come to peace with this fact about myself. I’m not sure if it’s the result of growing up in the waves of feminism after first-wave feminism, or whether it has anything to do with my background, but this is fact: I never learned to sew as a girl-child.

It was less because I didn’t want to, than a mix of my family pressuring me away from domestic tasks and reinforced the idea that as a person who was left-handed, I ought to not try to tackle this particular endeavor. To be honest, I’m not sure why I listened, I only know that I did. If you grow up hearing a thing told as if it’s true about you by those who claim to love you, it’s only natural to want to believe it.

It’s not like my family wanted to stifle my passions, it’s just if your line of work involves that of what the traditional stereotypes of my people (by this I mean housecleaning and landscaping) then you have certain notions that are taken as Truth. For example, educated folk like doctors (and lawyers) are able to afford your services. They’re usually going be of a certain ethnic background. They’re usually also going to then be used as inspirational motivational talking pieces: if you go to college and beyond, one day you’ll live like this, is how the promise goes.

Only in this life there are no guarantees, and come May I’m still not sure if I’ll ever be entirely convinced that gambling on myself was worthwhile. It’s a process of staring into the void, this reinventing yourself. Which I’m starting to think I’ll have to do, because even though I’ll graduate with a J.D., I’m nowhere near certain I’ll be able to be a lawyer in this golden state. Or in any state in this nation.

I’m not trying to freak out about it, but i am trying to be honest with myself so that I don’t fall to pieces should life just decide to send me elsewhere. It’s why I always prided myself on not owning more than I could stash in my car, the lighter my load is the easier it is for me to move along and do the Lord’s work.

In a recess of my mind, I tell myself that there’s got to be a better lot for me than this perpetual fear of what comes next. Somehow, the things I don’t know are outweighed by the things I do know, and they’re valuable to someone somewhere (I really hope someone somewhere wants to pay for what I could bring to the table). So in 2016, I’ll be honest with myself and admit that while I never learned to sew, cooking is one of those things that I wish I’d have done with my life.

True, once upon a time I dreamed of being a chef, but was told repeatedly that Mexican cuisine is not haute cuisine. People won’t pay to eat an expensive Mexican dish, because it’s not supposed to be a luxury dining experience. Which is more a highlight of how despite what culture you grow up in, you have an idea of what is a luxury meal is, and wanting to learn and make my people’s traditional dishes has been a bittersweet experience. I love my peoples’ food, but I know most of the world looks down on it because it’s foreign in that weird bad way instead of foreign in a good way.

What’s the point in learning how to make home-made tortillas, if no one aside from you will see them for the comfort food that they are? If no one will value the labor that takes? C’est la vie, I suppose. You do things both out of love, but because you have to, to get by.

With that said, this looks awesome:

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