By Sarah Pineda
Black Beans and Ham Hocks Aunt, or Tía Andrea comes home. What will tumble from her mouth, as she stirs the pot, of beans. Will she wash me of my confidence? As she rinses the grime off the beans. Will she lean into my ear, spew- ing tidbits of machismo? Does she notice I look more like my brothers, than my cousins, and tías, and grandmother. Has she noticed my hair is shaved, like traditions were taken from Nicaragua, when the Spaniards colonized our beautiful country. Does she notice how I am also part-colonizer, from the side of my White mother. Is that why she would rather my brothers, over me or my mother? Because not only am I woman, but I am also part White woman. Even though my skin is deeper than my brothers, I think she still resents my mother in me. What is thicker than the dark liquid surrounding the beans? Blood, well at least the blood of brown women, persecuted. Why can’t we bond over our experience as the marginalized? Not only am I part-brown, I am a woman, who loves other women, I am woman in nature, I am masculine, but not in the way men would relate to. So, if not anything else, why can’t she love me for the struggle I have been through? As she stirs the pot, of beans, saying mean things about my mother, in the foreign, yet colonized tongue, in that same instance praising my white brother, granting him laurels, he has not yet earned. Sometimes, I feel like the ham hocks left in the pot of beans to soften. When thrown in, they are whole, and solid. But as the pot cooks and simmers, with out a glimmer of hope, the persecution of boiling heat, the meat becomes tender, a delicacy to taste. Although, my aunt doesn’t love me for my struggle, the struggle has made me who I am. Softening me to be tender and compassionate. But at the same time I am still as solid as the bone left in the softened beans and meat. So even though I crave her approval, I will not admit defeat, just because my brown aunt will not put the same love into me, as she puts into stirring the pot, of black beans and ham hocks.
Sarah Pineda is a writer from Texas. Pineda is in her last year at Sam Houston State University (SHSU). She is pursuing a Bachelors in English Literature, with a minor in Creative Writing. Pineda mainly writes about her own experiences with gender identity, sexuality, and mental illness.