Elenamary

Today I finished ¡Yo! by Julia Alvarez. I was first introduced to her by my Latino Studies professor Dr. Ellen Gil-Gomez. She was one of those professors who will never really know how much of an influence she had on me. Back to ¡Yo!. When I first began to read it, the story reminded me of my sister. The book begins with a sister criticizing her sister, author, Yolanda. The family is upset with Yolanda for publishing the families personal stories.

My sister wrote about my parents relationship and how it influenced her life as a girl and then woman of “mixed” ethnicity. I was the one that proudly called my father and told him to head to a local bookstore and read the book. He called me a few hours after he read it. His voice was steady when he called, it was an angry steady. I could picture his face a deep red, the veins in his nick throbbing, and a bit of foam forming in between the corners of his lips. He asked me in deep monotone if I had sent him to read it order to hurt him. I thought for just a moment, and pictured him gritting his teeth, and honestly it did please me to think I had hurt him but instead I lied “No, I didn’t want to hurt you” which flowed almost as smoothly as the truth that followed “I am proud of Cristina. The truth is she thanks you for her feminism. She thanks you for encouraging us to learn and question”.

Thus, at first while reading, ¡Yo!, I thought of my sister, and she reminded me so much of the author. My sister tall(er) and slender, Latina, never happy in one place, able to express the vitality of her soul to anyone in a short story, while I could write for the rest of my life, and never write anything close to as beautiful. However, as ¡Yo! continued I began to think of myself.

I often think and sate that I don’t censor myself on my blog. I asked my mother to read my blog and she has refused, saying I should have some privacy and that she doesn’t want to influence what or how I write. I told my mom, that her reading my blog wouldn’t change my blogging. I asked a man I am smitten with to read my blog and he has. I now regret asking him too. I find I am censoring myself, now that I know he is reading. I mean he could’ve been reading it before.   My blog is easy enough to find since it is is linked on my myspace, and googable by real name. Do guys google ladies before their first date? I know I do it. Fuck, I don’t just Google them I do background checks…for real.

Anyway back to censoring, I realize I do censor despite my arguing for years that I don’t. Not only do I censor I refuse to admit the truth to myself. I don’t blog about my fear of STD’s, about my fear of never having children, about my fear of not being smart enough for standardized tests, my fear of failing chemistry, my fear of failing at life. I don’t write about them because one I hate admitting them out loud and two I don’t want some people to know my weaknesses and insecurities; despite the fact we all have weaknesses and insecurities.

All you bloggers, all you writers, all you family members of bloggers and writers, go read ¡Yo! by Julia Alvarez, and ask yourself, could you step back and be as honest as she is about the writer in your life or yourself?

C/S