Latina, Queer, and Raising for Success

As I start to type, I go back in time to my childhood. Everything seemed so different back then and part of that was because I used to live in a different country where beliefs and values varied a little from the American ones. While I was living my early teenage years in El Salvador, there were a lot of things that seem quite impossible for me. Self discovery was tough, so I relied on lying and pretending to be like everybody else. In reality I was just trying to fit in. When I moved out to California, I had no idea how different things would turn out to be. My entire life up to that point I had only known the Latin culture. The only time I was exposed to a different one was through movies and TV; and we all know how those are modified. In the book, the definition of positionality says “Positionality refers to one's social location or position within an intersecting web of socially constructed hierarchical categories, such as race, class, gender, sexual orientation, religion, nationality and physical abilities to name a few (Sorrells 13).” By being Latina and part of the LGBT community I found myself belonging in both, non-dominant groups and dominant groups, yet I belong into the dominant group by having the ability of communication.

Back in 2009 when I had just arrived, I found myself being challenged every single day, trying to communicate with people when the language barrier seemed more like metal walls terrifying me. Instead of using it as an excuse to bring me down I put all my focus on it, within the first three months I moved up in ESL levels, gaining more confidence in expressing myself and opinions, along with my social life, yet for some reason I couldn’t stop feeling like an outsider. My secret kept poking, wanting to escape. Unable to do so, I kept focusing in school, trying to fit in with the rest of the girls, but no matter how hard I tried, I simply couldn’t be like everybody else. Often I blamed my accent, the reason I was outcasted and made fun of, but in reality it was all in my head because, besides the accent and not having light, colored eyes, I was like everyone else. Now almost eight years after I realized that if I couldn’t fit in, then I could be something original.

For nine years, I lived inside the closet like people like to call it. I was too afraid to be rejected by my family that I decided to hide it and pretend it wasn’t there. Being a 13 year old, living in El Salvador, limited me to be exactly who I was. Since I was very small, I was educated to be a woman, to want to marry, have children and fulfill my role as such. Religion dictated our community, so how could a bisexual actually fit into these guidelines? It didn’t, I didn’t fit, so when I moved to the US, it was like a new kind of hope. I was reborn, but then I got carried away with trying to be accepted that I forgot, or ignored the unspoken. When I tried to come out, I was often questioned about my preferences. "Why don’t you look like the rest of the queer women?" The answer is that there shouldn't be such a stereotype, for all you know the person next to you is queer, but social media has engraved a picture of what they should act and look like, that it’s hard for us to ignore and accept. So once again I was at a disadvantage; however, now that I’m finally accepting and outspoken of my sexuality, I have found that all my fears were just that, and that perhaps being part of the non dominant group is not so bad.

Being part of the non-dominant group has taught me how to balance and associate with the dominant ones. After all, who decides what's right or wrong? What is wrong for one group or society, might be right for the other one. So here I am, eight years since I arrived to the US Latina, queer and proud. I no longer try to change myself to fit into the dominant group, instead I have embraced the minority and use it for my own success.

*I wrote this story about a year ago. I am currently working on obtaining my Master's degree and I am more and more confident with being queer.