Therapy is for white people. July 27, 2010

why so nervous?

 

That’s what I was thinking as I stood outside the therapist’s office at the student health center in college. I was having an internal battle with myself. If I walked in the door then I would be admitting that something was wrong. If I turned and left my mother would kill me. Come to think of it, my mother is in New York City and I’m in Connecticut. By the time she realized I never went to the session I could be halfway to Canada.

No, that won’t work.

She probably had someone waiting outside the College gate just in case I made a run for it. I took a deep breath and prepared to go in. I almost turned the knob when I realized that my hands were shaking. I didn’t realize how scared I was until this very moment. I walked in anyway. I spent that entire first session sitting across the therapist in silence (yes she had a couch and no she didn’t ask me to lay down on it). It took 5 sessions in order to become comfortable enough to talk about what was bothering me.

The best thing that happened to me was going to therapy but at the time I was embarrassed to tell anyone. Even years later, I feel strange whenever the subject of therapy comes up. This is because growing up in a Dominican household I was told therapy was for crazy people or for white people on TV. It was that stigma that prevented me from getting the help I needed and it’s that same stigma that prevents many minority women from getting the help they need as well.  The National Alliance of Mental Illness states that Latina’s are more likely to experience depression than Caucasian or African American women and the Centers for Disease Control reports that Latina teenagers in the United States are the group most likely to seriously consider suicide, which is associated with depression.[1]

Yet Latinas are the least likely group to go get help. Out of all ethnic groups Latina’s are the least likely to be covered by health insurance followed by African American women[2]. However, even if healthcare was readily available very few would seek out help due to the lack of culturally appropriate and accessible services.

A couple of months back I suggested to a friend that she should seek out a therapist as a means of working through some personal insecurities. A few weeks later she let me know that she stopped seeing the therapist because she didn’t feel understood and the cultural difference between them played a big part. My friend, a Latina, couldn’t relate to the methods her therapist, who was white, was using. I often wonder how many minorities go into the mental health field as psychiatrists and therapists. I know many Latino and African American social workers who help others find help within the system but not many who are providing counseling through therapy.

The point of this is that as minorities we should be able to fight stigma and use the resources available to us in order to become better versions of ourselves. It’s not just Latina women but also African American women who don’t deal with emotional problems in a productive manner. Another friend[3] of mine once told me that she was always told that people should work through their own issues. I’m a big believer that each person should try what works for them and that we shouldn’t be scared of what other people may think. Easier said than done right? At least you’ll know that there’s one person that won’t judge you (points finger at self).

If you’d like more information on mental health visit : Nami.Org or if you’re looking for a therapist with a minority background check out Psychology Today  for one near you.

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[1]  This is from a fact sheet on Latinos and Depression from Nami.org

[2] This article was written in 2001 but not much has changed since then

[3] I’m obsessed with her blog. She’s an amazing writer.

Camaradas (or how I fainted at camaradas) July 20, 2010

Outside of Camaradas in Spanish Harlem

All I remember is everything going dark, my friend rushing to find the waitress and the lady next to me saying “oh my God, you lost all the color in your face!”

Wait. Let’s start at the beginning.

My friend Jah and I go out to eat every once in a while to catch up and talk a whole lot of nonsense. It’s one of the things I look forward to. Let’s face it, we all work really hard, most of us are underpaid and it’s very easy to become jaded. A midweek break is what we all need. I decided that we should go to Camaradas in Spanish Harlem at Angelique’s suggestion.

 Jah and I walk in the place and enjoy the atmosphere. Camaradas is a bar that serves Puerto Rican appetizers. The vibe is very lower east side with it’s mixed hip hop and neo soul beats. If I closed my eyes I could imagine a hipster sitting nonchalantly next to me. Actually, when I opened my eyes, that’s exactly who was sitting at the other end of the picnic table. Did I mention that the tables are long picnic tables? That’s what adds to the atmosphere and what makes it such a comfortable spot to enjoy on a nice summer day. Not to mention that the Sangria pitcher is 15 dollars and everyone loves sangria! No? Not everyone? Well everyone should.

Back to the story. We sit down and both decide that we really like this place. I look around and notice all the eclectic groups of people all enjoying the food, the music and the drinks. I point this out because this is one of the few places that was founded and is still run by Latino’s in the area. Jah let’s me know that the entire area is changing. He’s from harlem where gentrification is obvious from the Starbucks to the American Apparel within a block from each other. We decide to order the Camarada’s platter so that we can sample a little bit of everything on the menu. Everything is fried, except for the skewers. Now don’t get me wrong I love fried things. I grew up on fried things. But on this day it was not agreeing with me.

 “are you enjoying your food?” I ask.

“ It’s pretty good. Not the best I ever had but good for a bar” Jah says

 

I’m looking at him eat his food and laughing at something or other when the entire scene in front of me starts to fade.  Jah starts having a Michael Jackson transformation in front of me. He went from brown to white in 15 seconds. I try to explain that I’m not feeling well though the words don’t seem to come out. I hear everyone speaking to me but their voices sound like it’s under water. The lady next to me asks if I’m ok (sidenote: this lady spent 15 minutes talking to my friend and I and asked us to meet up with her if we were ever in Miami so we can take her out. But she lives in Miami. Shouldn’t she be taking us out??). All of a sudden I feel my eyes roll to the back of my head. My head is so heavy I can’t hold it up anymore and I slam head first into the picnic table. All I remember is everything going dark, my friend rushing to find the waitress and the lady next to me saying “oh my God, you lost all the color in your face!” Good thing I had Jahkeen with me and he came to the rescue. He got me some water and paid the waitress and came next to me to hold me up. After drinking eleventy glasses of water I felt a lot better.

So what do I think of camaradas? Well other than feeling like I almost died I had an excellent time! The atmosphere is great. I enjoyed the skewers and will probably try a sandwich next time. The Sangria was delicious. Plus, I love supporting businesses owned by Latinos. Honestly, I want to go back again and experience everything without being the main event. All the tables were staring at me when I came to and their eyes were saying “who brought the sick kid to the bar?”  Anyone want to join me next time?? I promise not to faint.

Ps. A special side eye is sent to my friend Jah for this Gchat conversation:

me:  I’m trying to write about Camaradas and this is harder than i thought!

 Jahkeen: Prob bc u passed out?

(reeealll funny.)

Y Ella Too July 12, 2010

[Y Ella Too (and her too) is a series about Latina women who are an inspiration and who do things that should be highlighted. If you know someone or are someone who should be in the series please email me at TheEllaProject@gmail.com]

Angelique Imani Rodriguez

 

Confession: When I was in high school I was never the cool kid.  I was most closely related to the smart kid. However, I was fortunate enough to go to high school with a lot of smart kids. There I met Angelique Imani Rodriguez who I would say was a pretty cool kid. Not only a cool kid but someone who would always smile and say hi to me in the hallways and I never forgot that.  Thanks to the wonders of social media I connected with her again through our “blogs” on Myspace (R.I.P). Now she has a great blog (penhittingpaper.com) a new poetry book out “Les Jeux”, and is hosting a great fundraising event for the breast cancer walk. I LOVE her and this is why you will LOVE her too.

Being Latina:

Have you ever felt disconnected from your latin culture?

The problem was not a disconnect within myself and how I felt about my culture, but more of a disconnect with the Latino community and how I am viewed. As a Puerto Rican woman born and raised in the Bronx, I have often had to deal with the dual personality of being a Nuyorican. Latinos born and raised in the States have to realize that they are not one culture, but two. I am a true Nuyorican, but the fact that I am a Bronx born and raised Puerto Rican does not make me any less Puerto Rican or any less Latina. Some people disagree with this. I say this to them: Nothing anyone can say, think, feel or do to me can make me any less of what I am. Yes, I was raised in NYC, but trust me when I say I am one of the proudest Latinas you’ll ever come to know.

How do you maintain the connection?

I maintain the connection with my culture by knowing my roots.  I was always taught by my parents to never forget where I came from, where my roots began and what blood I have in my veins. Knowing the aspects of my culture via the food, dance, music and history often has provided me with a clear connection to my ancestry and the Latina I am. I am very proud of being Puerto Rican and very proud to be Nuyorican.

What Latina stereotype “grinds your gears?”

 One of the stereotypes that I dislike most about Latinas is the oversexualized persona.  We are constantly described as “fiery, red-hot, spicy,” and it just irks me. However, one of my biggest frustrations is unfortunately within our own culture. Watch a telenovela…. the heroine is usually light skinned, straight haired and light-eyed where as the trigueñas(editor note: neither black nor white) and darker skinned women are often the maids, a bruja (witch) or a comic relief. In order for us to grow in mainstream culture past the stereotypes we are placed in, we must look at the boundaries and discrimination we have created WITHIN the culture.

About Ella:

Penhittingpaper.com is very personal. Do you use this as a sort of journal? What type of people are you trying to reach?

Originally, I created the blog as a way to force myself to practice my writing. Writing is a sport and without practice and constant dedication, you can get a little rusty, a little blocked creatively. However, I began to start posting things that inspired me, using the blog as my mood board so that if I ever needed some sort of inspiration I could always refer to something I posted. I began posting more personal entries speaking to whoever happened to go on the site. I hope that, if by chance, someone reads what I have written, they can see their own situations in different perspectives and find some kind of solace or inspiration in the words I have written, to let them know that we all are just trying to figure out where we are and what it all means. The most heart warming thing for me is to read a comment from someone on my blog that says “I really needed to see this.”

Angelique's first poetry book "Les Jeux"

How did your first poetry book come about and why did you pick the name Les Jeux?
Actually, the book has been a long time coming.  I have been encouraged by countless friends and fellow poets for a long time and I decided to just go through with it. I have had a lot of help and support from the visual artists in the book as well as the friends who have kept pushing me throughout the process. “Les Jeux” is French for “The Games” and it is from one of my favorite writers, Anais Nin. I chose it because it represents the flow of the poetry I chose, the games of life, love and self-discovery.

What is Poetry in Pink?

Poetry in Pink is an event I started in 2009 to raise funds for my Making Strides Against Breast Cancer walk team, Maggie’s Latin Angels. My mother was diagnosed in 2007 and I have been doing the walk with my family since. She is currently, and thankfully, in remission. I continue walking for her and for all of the women I have met that have been affected by the disease in some way.  Poetry in Pink is a showcase of local spoken word and visual artists who come together to raise awareness about this disease that has affected so many women. Last year, with the help of spoken word artist Jani “Bomba” Rosado, the event was held at Camaradas and was a huge success. This year, the reins were completely in my hands so I went for something a little different.  The event will be held at Society Coffee Bar on West 114th street and Frederick Douglass Boulevard in Harlem from 3:00pm to 6:00pm with a happy hour at 67 Orange Street Bar from 6:00pm to 8:00pm.

Poetry In Pink!

Tell me something most people wouldn’t know about you?
I am the youngest of three and the only girl. I learned from childhood to entertain myself. My love affair with reading spawned my true love with words and writing.  I thank God I was kept in my house with my mother while the boys went and played outside. It was the most valuable experience of my life.

For more information on Poetry in Pink please visit: Penhittingpaper.com

If you want to order Angeliques book  “Les Jeux” (which you should because it’s nothing short of amazing) you can email me at TheEllaProject@gmail.com or get it online at http://www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/1444988

Stop It. You’re Embarrassing Me. July 8, 2010

not as innocent as they look

The other day I found myself on the bus on my way home from my mother’s house. Now, my mother moved to what I like to refer to as Upstate Bronx. I have to take a bus and a train to get from her house to my own. If you know New York City then you understand that this is an annoying, frustrating but necessary evil (it is my mother after all). Kinda like going to the dentist. In order to make my trip more bearable I sit down and start reading a book. 10 minutes later four loud mouth teenage Dominican Girls walk in the bus and sit next to me.  How do I know they’re Dominican? Well, they were talking about it pretty loudly.

What else were they talking about?

They apparently wanted the entire bus to know how they were putting it on some 20 year olds at a party last night. One of them gets up from her seat and proceeds to show everyone else how she was booty poppin. The other 3 laugh and then they begin to talk about how surprised they were to graduate from high school and how two of the four have to go to summer school and get their diplomas in august.

Then I overhead this:

Girl A: I can’t believe I got an 86 on my Spanish test

Girl B: That’s cause you speak Spanish. I failed that cause I don’t know nothing

Girl A: Just cause I can speak it doesn’t mean I know how to read and write

Girl B: true! Hahahahahahaha

Me: (turn and give and seriously dirty look to shut them up so they can stop embarrassing me)

Now believe me, I was trying very hard to disregard the ignorance and tomfoolery on the bus. But every once in a while I would turn to them and give them a very stern look. They of course ignored me completely. 

I started thinking back 10 years when I was a teenager and whether I was that ridiculous on the subway or bus. Don’t get me wrong I’m sure I was a loud teenager (I mean I’m a loud adult so it had to start somewhere). I also know I wasn’t an innocent teenager who was just reading books and doing her school work. Teenage hormones are crazy. But my mom used to tell me she had spies in the streets and knew everything I was doing. I believed her because that lady might be crazy enough to do something like that. These girls were poking people and laughing at them. Yelling about how Dominican they were. All I could do is sit there and be embarrassed. Mostly for them, and their parents but also for me and how people outside the Bronx would view them. Would they view me the same way? The answer to that is they probably will. This is the view America will have of Latin girls. Loud, over-sexualized and poorly educated. Parents should be held accountable for the behavior of their children and should strive to raise forward thinking individuals. Or at least raise children with enough manners not to touch and taunt other passengers on a bus. 

 When I was a teenager I didn’t know I was an example of how the outside world views other Hispanic inner city girls. I was in a bubble. That’s probably because I was never told that by anyone. It’s something I had to learn on my own. As I sat on the bus after they left I wondered if I should have said something. If I should have said that being loud is not being Dominican. If should have stopped them from poking and taunting the man standing in front of me. This time I didn’t. But if I ever become a parent I will make sure my children know where they come from and what example they are setting for others. And the next time I’m on a bus coming down from Upstate Bronx, I’ll make sure to say something.