Hello, I am a Palm Tree

Playa Bonita

Playa Bonita in Las Terrenas

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Just Be

It was one of those weeks, I would say one of those months were I just needed to get away. So I did. I spent the weekend in what I call paradise aka Playa Bonita in Las Terrenas. Sounds familiar? Well it should because I went there back in October with a friend who was visiting from the States and I took some pictures, which I shared. Although I never physically went back, my spirit and mind visited often, as I found peace and serenity there. I went by myself and had a perfect weekend, well minus the inopportune headache and the every so often bug bit because of course I forgot the bug repellent.

I absolutely loved being there alone; however, I have to admit that the first few hours were a bit tough. I imagined what it would be like if some of the people I loved could share the beautiful tranquility with me. I then allowed myself to naturally refocus on my being there. I allowed myself to just be!

I stayed at this little simple hotel on the beach called Coyamar. No ACs there, no room service, none of that, just wonderful people who put a smile on my face. It was unbelievable I was there nine months ago and they all remembered me including the Motoconcho guy (motorcycle driver/taxis). Although I went there wanting to be alone, it was good to see some familiar faces that acknowledged me and then let me just be.

Now let’s be realistic, I didn’t expect to spend a day and a night at the beach and have my anxieties, confusions, all of it just magically disappear. Nonetheless, being there alone and surrounded by my definition of beauty and by clean air (yes people, the pure air has a lot to do with it, the pollution in Santo Domingo is getting to me!), allowed me to think clearer and to relax. Now, I didn’t leave Las Terrenas with the answer to my problems, but I left there feeling like the answers will come.

What I learned this weekend: Trust your body, trust your soul. If it wants to get away let it. Now, I understand that not everyone has a Playa Bonita just a few hours away, but you must find that place that makes you feel at peace. It can be a room in your house, the library, a store, the park, really anywhere. 

"If the world were merely seductive, that would be easy. If it were merely challenging, that would be no problem. But I arise in the morning torn between a desire to save the world and a desire to savor the world. This makes it hard to plan the day." E.B. White

Diez meses despues...

Ten months later and although some things continue to excite me, I have to admit that the romanticism is over. Well at least most of it. I am here living a kind of 9-5 life, the only difference is that I have the amazing ocean surrounding me and the sweet and juicy tropical fruits that are no longer a rarity but an everyday thing. I can remember my first few nights here, actually the first few months I would say, I was completely astonished at everything I saw. I was in awe at all of the cultural difference that I saw and related to. I finally understood, after 18 years, where certain words came from and why Dominicans did certain things. Now the romance is gone. I don’t necessarily think is a bad thing that some things seem normal to me, but it’s certainly not as fun.

This morning I woke up all confused, which is very normal for me. I was a little homesick, ok maybe a lot homesick and for some reason I was particularly missing New York City, one of my favorite places in the world. Then I began to think about all of the aspects of a city that I missed from Boston and thought, but I have a city down the street from me, what’s wrong with me!

Well let me break it down for those of you who don’t know. Santo Domingo is a city, it has many franchises similar to those in the US, it has some tall building which are mostly for residential purposes, it has tons of people, I believe 3 million to be exact, heck it even has a metro system, well not quite the system yet because there is one line, but you get my drift. Now why am I not satisfy with this particular city you might ask. It’s actually quite simple, the Zona Alta, as the city like part of the city is called is composed of a lot of middle class/rich white Dominicans. There is no diversity like there is in NYC or in any other major cities of the world.  There is no little Italy, or little India or believe or not there is no Washington Heights. I live in the old part of the city la Zona Colonial. Here you will find a bunch of really cool colonial looking homes and tons of tourism, but it has some character and personality, something that in my opinion you will not find in the city part of the city.

It’s funny though. I have all these crazy ideas of things that I would like to do here, I don’t know why I haven’t started. I was thinking about it this morning, could it be fear of failing, I don’t think so because I have the mentality that in case I do fail, I just keep it moving. I guess real life is stopping me, or at least what I’ve been socialized to think of as real life, don’t act like you don’t know what I am talking about, going back to school, eventually marrying and having children with someone etc. Come to think about it, in the end it’s just fear. 

I'm here..

When I leave this place, I really take a long time to come back. I use to think that I can do it all, work full time, manage three blogs, take care of my home, and of course last but certainly not least, take good care of my self. You want the truth, it’s not happening. I have to stop beating myself up for not being able to always do it all and to think that I am not even a mom, a wife, nor a PhD student yet! Instead of concentrating on the fact that I’ve been absent all these weeks, lets take a moment to talk about some of the amazing things that happened during this time… 

Believe

"Don't ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive and then go do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive." -Dr. Howard Thurman

Dear All,

I want to share with you my two new blogs, one is in Spanish ( www.cabellobueno.blogspot.com ) and the other one in english ( www.dominicanagoingnatural.blogspot.com ). I am currently going natural and wanted to develop a space where I can share the experience and where others who want to go through the process can get guidance and ideas (especially for Dominican women).

A broken record of an ugly song

Now I know I probably sound like a broken record constantly writing about these stories of race, hair and class in the Dominican Republic, but I am doing it “expre” like the French say, meaning on purpose. It is my hope that by documenting all of these happenings, I will be able to better understand the particularities of racism and discrimination in this country. I have gotten the opportunity to travel to many places and even live in a few of them and I have first hand accounts of the way racism looks, feels and tastes in many corners of the world. I say this because the kind of racism I experience here is very different than the others. I have ideas as to why it is this way, but I want to really understand it. All of this to tell you what happened to me today.

So I’ve decided to go natural, which means that I am allowing my hair to grow out and not processing it with a relaxer. I relaxed my hair for many reasons, but mainly because I liked the look and because it was what I knew since I was 9 years old. I’ve also decided to go natural for many reasons, but primarily because I don’t remember what my real hair looks like and I am curious to see and feel it au natural and I am also doing it to make the statement that non-relaxed hair is beautiful. I have tried this before and I always ended up relaxing my hair because it was too draining and the hair itself was very difficult to manage. This time, as a way to reaffirm my decision and commitment, I walked into the salon and I cut my hair short. I have never cut off this much hair so it was definitely a big moment, but in the end it is only hair, it grows back, no biggie.

So, I told my stylist that I needed her support during this process because I was going to go in every few weeks and cut more and more of it off. She was very supportive and said that she will help. You know black women and our salons, both here and in the US, it is our place to talk about womanly stuff, boys, family, beauty, etc. So she begins to tell me about her family and her kids and narrates the story of her youngest daughter, “so my last daughter was not planned, I was very sad when I found out that I was pregnant. I went ahead with the pregnancy and when I found out it was a girl, I prayed to God every day until she was born and asked him to give a light skin nice hair baby girl. I didn’t want her to come out black with bad hair like my older daughter. So when she was born and I saw this little pink baby with good hair I was felt so lucky. My husband was on the phone with all of his friends and family telling them that he had a little beautiful light skin baby and that he was so proud. She is the light of this house and everyone loves her so much.”

So you might ask, what did you tell her?! Well, the shock I went into at the moment was too big to allow me to do anything about it. In my head I was like “but she is such a nice lady and she embraces her big hips and her big boobs, I can’t believe she said that, oh lord what should I say, wow this problem is bigger than what I thought.” I did somehow manage to tell her that both of her daughters are very beautiful.

I AM ME

I wrote Yo Soy Yo after being so overwhelmed from all of the experiences here in the Dominican Republic. This weekend during my hiking/beach trip I encountered a situation that has become too familiar. I was at the beach and decided to sunbathe, something that I absolutely love and have been practicing for over 7 years. First, an older woman who accompanied us on the trip came by and said to me: “you are the first black girl I have ever seen sunbathing, it doesn’t make any sense.” Another one said: "girl get out of the sun right now, you are going to turn like a carbon." I ignored them and smiled and continued to enjoy the make out session I was having with the sun.

The conversation continued under the shaded area of a beautiful palm tree with folks that were of my generation. The comments were honestly the usual—nothing that they said surprised me. Some of the comments included: “I don’t understand why she is under the sun, she is going to get purple like those African people,” “she is going to end up looking like a Haitian,” etc. I couldn’t help it; I got up to talk them and very politely excused myself for intervening. I told them that I was very interested on hearing why they felt those things, considering the fact that I was the “culprit” in the situation. I then started by saying that the “purple” Africans that they were referring to are beautiful people and that they are also human beings and that Haitians are not only our neighbors but they were our brothers and sisters, hence why so many of us look like them and so many of them look like us. They were offended. One of the young men said that he was a reporter and wouldn’t look good on camera, the other lady said that we have to cherish our “native Indian” culture and the ideals of our motherland. Spain.

About a hour later when I went into the water and laid back and allowed the sun to kiss me yet again, they decided to continue the conversation. They persisted and said they had formed two clubs “the white Dominicans who don’t like the beach because of the sun” and the “black Dominicans who don’t want to get blacker because of the sun,” they even made acronyms for their “clubs”.

Now here is the scary part, most of the people who were involved, were brown skin. This was the all too familiar self-hate theory that was taking place in my country, and has taken place for longer than I can count (I immediately recognized it since it a common practice in the States). They saw me in them and they saw themselves in me and hated the fact that I wanted to be blacker or that I appreciated my blackness.

Now are you ready for the cherry on top? These were all environmentalist, leftist, “socially conscious” people and yes they are the same racists and homophobes that are fighting for human rights.

I also wrote in Yo Soy Yo about being an American. This is something that I have decided that I will no longer compromise or be apologetic for. I am completely aware of all that it represents, that I grew up in America and that I speak English, but it is who I am. I will elaborate more later, Yo Soy Yo, I Am Me.

Yo soy yo...

Yo soy yo

Yo soy una mujer dominicana
Soy de un campo
Vengo de un barrio
Con sangre española y francesa
Pero con esa que pesa
Que pesa mas que un mar en la cabeza
Esa
Sangre negra, africana
Con la piel orgullosamente quemada
Si yo soy prieta con la piel tostada
Preciosamente carbonizada

Yo soy una mujer americana
Soy de un campo
Vengo de un barrio
Llevo en mi lengua un idioma extraño
Poderoso y Temeroso
Pero no puedo negarlo
Es mío y yo soy del
Forma parte de mi ser
Pero YO SOY YO y el es el

Pine trees in the Dominican Republic