Pasteles & Tamales

I’m a biracial woman. Raised in a household by my Puerto Rican mom and my Black dad. My Thanksgiving table has Fried turkey, Macaroni and cheese, pernil, pasteles and arroz con gandules. I grew up in the largest melting pot in the world: NYC. I was exposed to so many different people and so many different cultures I wasn’t even sure what my specific cultural traits were at times. So naturally, one would assume racial differences weren’t really a concern for me right? WRONG. In walks my Mexican boyfriend and I was surprised to see how open-minded myself and so many other people were NOT.

I guess I should start at the beginning and make sure you all know and understand that I love Juan Carlos with every fiber of my being. When we met I didn’t even bother to really ask what his nationality was. He was Spanish. That was obvious and that was all I really cared about. One day while talking about this guy who gives me butterflies, I sent my best friend a screen shot of his profile picture and she says to me “He’s Mexican?!” and I’m like what? She repeated herself only this time in a statement and kindly points out to me the Mexican flag icon on his profile. Damn. How did I miss that? Well, I know how, I was looking elsewhere- Ha! And now, what did this mean? My understanding of the Mexican culture was Tequila (which I can’t tolerate-that’s a whole other blog post), Cinco de Mayo celebrations, Taco bell and Selena (All Hail THE QUEEN) Soo…what was I gonna do? Nothing left but to address it and I asked him “Are you Mexican?” in my confused and probably judgmental ass voice.

It is quite interesting what people think of when we are introduced to people of different cultures. I mean ask yourself, what would be the first thing that came to mind if your friend told you her new boyfriend was Mexican. Whenever I tell anyone Juan is Mexican the first thing they always say is “He’s Mexican?! He doesn’t even look Mexican!” Often times in defense of him I’m like wait! What is he supposed to look like?! But the truth is that was my initial reaction as well. I was so surprised to find out he was Mexican all while thinking he was the finest Mexican I had ever seen in my life. I really was just focused on finding a physical attribute that indicated he really was Mexican. But, the question remained unanswered- what WAS he supposed to look like? And as educated as I am, am I ignorant enough to believe that everyone has to fit into the societal stereotypes we have created of one another? The simple answer is yes. I WAS this ignorant, because honestly I had no other reference point, and clearly most people in my circle didn’t either.

Initially I thought it would be fun learning a different culture. He has dated plenty of Puerto Ricans in the past and has been exposed to the Puerto Rican culture for most of his life so I was nothing new for him. Well correction, culturally, there weren’t many surprises for him. He was more concerned with what foods I knew how to make and when I was going to cook them for him. But for me, this was a whole new world. In getting to know one another, of course we spoke about different customs and foods, traditions and family styles and again I was intrigued. I didn't see a "down-side" to dating someone who was not Puerto Rican. But this was because it had yet to affect us. Until that long weekend in June...

Juan and I had been dating for six months. It was great, yet I didn’t really know his background. Where did he come from? What was his family like? Who did he have in his world besides me? I had completely immersed him into my life. My friends, my family, my co-workers, classmates, everyone knew of him and yet for him it wasn’t the same. If this was going to work I needed more and I demanded more of him. So, he planned a weekend to go and visit his older brother in Maryland and along for the trip came his sister, her fiancé and his niece and nephew. I pushed for this, and 8months later I still have PTSD and wish it hadn’t happened. Let me say this much first. They are good people. We are just different. So different it hurts, and so different it has affected my relationship more than it ever should have. Maybe that’s my fault (I can’t let things go so easily and he never sees a problem with anything) or maybe it's really just cause and effect. But either way, it was an experience worth writing about.

The weekend was uncomfortable for me in many ways. First, if you read my previous blog you know I don’t do well with change. My ex of ten years is Puerto Rican and his family became my family. I loved them then, I love them still. I admittedly was resistant to accepting “new in-laws.” But I was committed to giving this a try because I love Juan and I wanted to know more about him.

Let's start with the basic differences like language and food. How could there be a language barrier you ask? Well they prefer to communicate in Spanish. English is my first language. Do I understand Spanish? Yes. Do I speak Spanish? Yes. Did I understand what they were saying? Half of the time absolutely not. The dialect, tone, even the pace was completely different from what I was used to. I legitimately felt like I needed a translator. Next was the food. Ya’ll I must have called my mom like 4x to complain about how hungry I was. His sister in law cooked and EVERYTHING was spicy, and what wasn’t spicy just didn’t taste good. Have I eaten Mexican food before? Sure I have, but this wasn't Quesadillas, tacos or Chimichangas. This was REAL traditional not off a menu food and I was like ummm… no thanks. I guess here's another way I'm not as open minded as I could be. Oh well. Anyhow, I tried to try the food because I didn’t want to be rude. My parents raised me better than that. But I just couldn’t do it. So I think I had some bread and called it a day. Eventually we went to the mall and I ran my black ass over the Auntie Annie's and ate a hotdog faster than the speed of light. I knew just as uncomfortable as I was at this point, they were too. They must have been looking at me like this entitled fake ass Spanish American Gringa is too damn stuck up for us. Well, we’re all entitled to our perspectives. If they care to share theirs, they can blog about it too.

But despite those differences which weren’t detrimental, I still did not expect what came next. The evening before we left, we all sat in the backyard in a circle while his brother had a BBQ and engaged in conversation, over some drinks as normal people would. Of course the issues of race, culture, morals and values came up and I have no way to explain what happened other than I was attacked. AT LEAST THAT'S HOW I FELT. Comments like “I can’t date a Puerto Rican woman because of the way YOU PEOPLE are raised” and “Puerto Rican women are raised to ACCEPT and deal with their husband’s cheating on them” were thrown out there. My favorite was “What kind of mother will you be if you choose to work and put your career before your children?” Apparently it is customary that Mexican women stay home while the men support the household. That ain’t my life though. I worked DAMN HARD for these letters behind my name *Sucks teeth, rolls eyes and snaps fingers*

These statements still strongly resonate with me and I can feel my blood boiling all over again. I really felt like I was being Punked and Ashton Kutcher was coming out at any point. Was I really sitting here and allowing people I didn’t know to project their stereotypical beliefs on to me? I was offended. I’m still offended and this has caused so many arguments in my relationship. I couldn’t believe the viewpoints they had, and yes okay, I admitted to my own ignorance earlier, however; I was never blatantly rude, offensive or unwelcoming to anyone. Why did they think this was acceptable behavior? I really felt like I was thrown to wolves. The bigger problem however; was that Juan never interjected to defend me.

Okay, so I have to give credit where credit is due and acknowledge that the next morning he apologized on their behalf. To me. In private. He said “I want you to know I don’t share their beliefs and I’m sorry.” But why couldn’t he do this yesterday in front of everyone? Why didn’t he stop them? I would have never allowed my family to talk to him this way. But I just couldn’t accept this as enough. I couldn’t let it go. Over the next several months I heard frequently “we weren’t raised like you...” “we have cultural differences…” from him and his family and I started to really feel like this was going to be the reason why my relationship wouldn’t last. I even said quite a few times how hard it was for me to believe that I was no longer with a Puerto Rican man whenever these "differences" became a problem. Truthfully, in those moments, all I could think about was how much easier a relationship without these "differences" would be.  

I didn’t mean that though, well okay, Yes I did. But I didn’t mean I wanted to go back to that relationship. I was happier here, MUCH happier with him, I just wish these “cultural differences” weren’t so strong and didn’t interfere with our relationship. That one encounter, amongst other smaller situations has left such a sour taste in my mouth and I’m sure in theirs as well. Same way I feel some way I’m sure they did and still do. But the only person truly affected by all of this was Juan. I was constantly getting at him to have him fix it, correct them and defend me, when in all honesty that wasn't his job. Yeah sure, he could have stopped the conversation or at least spoken to them afterwards about how it was just plain rude to speak to someone that way, but nobody was going to change their beliefs because I was offended. Who the hell was I to them? And quite frankly when it comes down to it, I don’t care what anyone thinks of me. I am who I am and it is what it is.

When I really sit down to dissect all of this, the best analogy I could find was in food. We both LOVE food and for the most part each other’s typical foods. What was the biggest similarity?Puerto Rican’s have Pasteles and Mexicans Tamales. Puerto Ricans and Mexicans both spend hours making traditional foods like these for our families during the holidays. And guess what? If you’ve ever had Pasteles or Tamales you know they are the literally the same thing. Sure the maza may be made with different root vegetables and the meat seasoned with different spices, but they are literally the same shit.  

 With all of this being said, it all comes down to this bottom line: Yes there are cultural differences in our relationship but we have to learn to embrace them and respect them if we really want our relationship to work. How fortunate will our future children be to have the influence of three different cultures? There's beauty in different. We may have been raised differently with different backgrounds, customs, beliefs and practices but we’re just two people in love who want nothing more than to spend our lives together embracing each other’s differences.