Self-Acceptance

"Self-Acceptance" a Personal Narrative by Estefania Garcia

Estefania Garcia

Mrs. Barnett

English 131

17 October 2020

Self-Acceptance

The greatest challenge in life is to be our own person and accept that being different is a blessing and not a curse. A person who knows who they are lives a simple life by eliminating from their orbit anything that does not align with his or her overriding purpose and values. A person must be selective with their time and energy because both elements of life are limited.

-Kilroy J. Oldster, Dead Toad Scrolls

One’s cultural identity tells another who a person is inside and out. I had a hard time accepting who I was due to the comments and opinions that everybody else had. I was tired of hearing what was right and wrong about me. As confusing and mentally exhausting as it was to accept and recognize my true self, I was able to liberate myself from the chains of shame.

I was born in the large city of San Jose, but at the age of 10, my family moved to the small town of Selah. My mom and dad are 100% Mexicans who identify strongly with the culture and traditions of their ranchos in Mexico, small lands with a large history of indigenous people, stereotypical machismo values, and Catholic beliefs. Growing up in my home country allowed me to experience both sides of who I am, the Mexican blood in me, and the American customs I’ve grown up knowing and acclimating to. But, unfortunately, when I moved during my prime years of self-discovery, it was when I began to slowly not recognize who I was. With my family, I was a different personage than who I was outside of my home.

To begin, Selah is a predominantly white town, and there’s nothing wrong with that. However, being at school and going out made me stick out like a sore thumb. When I was hanging out with friends and family we’d get weird looks and strange glares from strangers simply because we’re speaking a different language. Over time, incidents like those made me uncomfortable to speak my native language in public. What would puzzle and saddened me the most were my relatives. When I was around them, I would get silently criticized for not being able to pronounce or say a word correctly. I would get called “white-washed’ or “la muy Americana.” My confused self felt that I couldn’t say anything anywhere without being crucified for speaking the wrong language at the wrong time. Another time when I struggled with my identity was when I began to disagree with my culture’s machismo values. Like many young people, I see my family as role models in specific both my parents and brother. As I grew older, I saw the wrong in the gender roles that I was used to seeing when I was younger. There are these stereotypes when it comes to gender, females are dainty and do the cooking and cleaning whereas the males are strong and fearless and do the hard work outside. What I mostly disagreed with was how my parents would treat my sister and me so differently than my brother. We, women, are seen as weak, emotional, and dependent, which is so far from the truth. And men are seen as strong, prideful, and non-emotional which again is so far from the truth. After several discussions with my dad, about how the macho culture was unfair and outdated, he never admitted to being in the wrong. Instead, I was told, “That’s how I was raised, that’s what makes you a real Mexicano.” And I couldn’t disagree anymore.

In school, it was like I was wearing a mask, hiding who I was from the world. Once I was home behind closed doors, that mask would come off, revealing my authenticity. I was sick and tired of trying to live up to people’s expectations; I couldn’t keep up. I decided once and for all to put my happiness first, it seemed selfish of me but it needed to be done for the sake of my well being.

First, I started with small changes that began at home. I was never one to confront others, especially papá and mamá. It took a lot of guts for me to sit down with my parents and tell them their wrongdoings. Tears filled my eyes as I told my dad how his sexist remarks were hurtful. His wrinkled eyes looked down at the kitchen table as he realized how much he had hurt his daughter. My mom who was right next to my dad shut her eyes and shook her head, ashamed of herself for not ever having my back. Once I finished speaking we all sat in silence. In my head, I was telling myself how proud I was for finally standing up for myself after the years of constant heartbreak. Our conversation came to its end, my mom promised to never turn a blind eye towards me and my dad promised to leave his machista fueled way of speaking behind. I could feel the knot in my throat tripling in size. Tears wanted to burst out my eyes. It felt like things were finally going to get better. That night I went to bed optimistic about what was to come, and I hoped my parents kept their word.

As the weeks passed, my parents' promise had yet to be broken. We grew closer as a family, when before I felt so distant from them. Still, though, I was not okay with how I was getting treated elsewhere. I knew I couldn’t change what others thought of me. It was an impossible thing to do. The change I had to make was within myself. With certain groups of people, I always felt like I was never enough. I always felt so out of place, like I didn't belong. But I couldn’t let the disapproval of others affect me any longer. And so I started by undoing the self-manipulation I brought upon myself, I destroyed those personas I once had created to shield myself from the world. I changed my mentality, now whenever I hear an unwanted comment I stop myself from reacting and I question myself, “Am I going to let this person affect my mood because of what they think of me?” No, the answer since the beginning should’ve always been “no”. These people don’t know anything about me, yet they make ludicrous comments about my life. When it came to the people who I naively called my friends, I recognized that I was better off without them. The toxic relationships I had with these so-called friends started dropping like flies. As for my extended family that always had something to say, I learned to ignore them. I couldn’t let them get a reaction out of me for their amusement.

Not long ago, I started taking pride in who I was, I began to feel more confident with myself, and I am no longer ashamed of my roots. Today, I proudly speak whatever language I want whenever I want, sometimes Spanish, English, and even Spanglish will slip out. The ignorance of people’s minds fogged mine. It affected me so much that I had become embarrassed to be around my parents because they would speak with a thick accent. I should have never pitted myself for looking different than others. I always saw beauty in everyone no matter who they were, so why did I stop seeing that beauty in me?

Because I sought validation from irrelevant and ignorant people, I ended up tearing my identity apart. But in the end, I was lucky enough to rediscover my true self and I found people who instead of rejecting me, embraced me. With this journey of pursuing my happiness and with the love of my amazing friends and family, I’m a proud Mexican-American daughter of loving immigrants. Everyone, no matter who they are, should think that they need to change for the pleasure of other people. If people say they care for you, then they will care for you no matter what.