Stereotypes

I am a fruit. An exotic nut that can only be found in the Carribean. To an American's mind, Carribean is a getaway to another world of tropical paradise. I am of Dominican descent and I do love where my ancestors are from. I am a Dominican York, someone who is of Dominican descent, but was born in New York.

Despite of my background, I dream of escaping from trains and icky smelling petroleum that this city spews and venture through basically, paradise. I do believe tropical countries are paradise. The beaches have such white sand that gleams like a diamond and water that is so clear, stress doesn't exist. Something a day spa can't fix for a whole day.

Though I love where I'm from, it seems as though people in this country don't appreciate it. Dominicans have a stereotype of having a certain attitude and having dark skin. I am quite the opposite. I have very light skin and said I behave like a white girl. I've been confused for Jewish, Italian, White American, Puerto Rican, South American, Japanese, and Middle Eastern. I don't know where these people come up with these things, but I guess they refuse to believe I'm Dominican just by the way I am.

I can be shy or I can be a monkey. I decide on my mood and surroundings. I am a very random person. My skin color is light, and the African American and other Hispanics that went to middle and high school with me will totally agree with you, but the people in Upstate New York would disgress, because they would convince themselves first and then me that I am darker than them. Let's get this straight: WHO CARES?!?!?! God made me this way, so why can't we love what God has done? Don't you love God? If you love your friend and she made you a lovely bracelet, wouldn't you love it? It hurts when your own Dominicans refuse to believe your heritage all because you don't hail the stereotype.

The media has taken Hispanics as these people with weird accents, tan skin, and common names, like Juan and Maria. Well, my name is Tatiana, it's Russian, but, I'm not Russian, I'm Dominican, but my father speaks Russian like we speak English, but, he's still Dominican. But, but, but, silly word keeps coming into my way and making others believe that I'm making this stuff up. Would you like to stop by my house for a day? I'll make you a cup of tea. Maybe you'll see if you believe me. The media refuses to believe my side of the story because they're making crap loads of money off of this stereotype. They show us as dirty dancing people, and not that movie Dirty Dancing, the other side of dirty dancing. Where I break it down and drop it like it's hot. And that I'm a slut and have unprotected sex and end up pregnant. My high school has a day care, and the babies are the students, not the teachers.

This past Mother's Day, I was walking around the cards section to look for a lovely card to my dear Mamí. I had to get it in Spanish because she wouldn't understand it in English. Obviously. Mostly, the Spanish cards had all this Catholic crap as if every Hispanic mother believes Mary will get her to heaven. Only one card just talked about God without Catholic stuff and it was the one I got for her. She loved it. Hello, not all Hispanics are Catholic. I don't go to mass. I don't need to. I am saved through the blood of Jesus Christ and therefore, I can read the true Holy Bible and don't need a superior other than God to translate it for me.

All this rounds out to the fact that why doesn't everyone just love each other? Not caring about color, race, or anything that can separate. Though I went through racism and prejudice, I don't hate any culture. I love everyone. Love is the only thing that can take the hate away. Jesus loves everyone. God loves everyone. Let's all love. All we need is love. Take it away, Beatles...

Reality

Haven't you ever heard how the Bronx is so bad and your friends that live in the East Village who are actually from nowhere town USA suddenly move to the fake NYC to attend NYU paid by their rich parents, say that they can never enter the Bronx and they don't do "borough" based on what they've heard? Well, how ignorant of them to know that once upon a time, living in the East Village was for the poor and the Bronx was for the very wealthy. A major street in the Bronx, The Grand Boulevard and Concourse, or officially known as Grand Concourse, has the most majestic buildings in all boroughs. I'm sorry, but Brooklyn is the ugliest borough, no matter what the money eating hipsters say. Living on the Grand Concourse was like living in Park Avenue today. If you've walked there, don't you notice the fantastic details on the buildings only the rich could afford? Don't you notice in the East Village, SoHo, and TriBeCa, how all the buildings look the same, except for the newly constructed ones based on gentrification?

Yes, Upper East and West Sides have always been for the rich. Washington Heights was also for the rich, and so was Inwood. When you cross the George Washington Bridge coming in to New York, haven't you noticed the buildings that occupy Washington Heights are more beautiful than your squished building Downtown? Basically, the rich have always taken opposite sides to stay as far away from the poor as possible. Just like how the rich went from being the most pale faced mummies, to the darkest burnt corpses by frying their skin from tanning. It was said that since the poor was always outside working, they developed darker skin. The rich was always inside because they were too rich to work and because of that, they developed pale skin. But, when the Industrial Revolution came about and the poor were locked into giant dark factories, their skin turned very pale and the sign of richness was doomed. After Coco Chanel came back from a Mediterranian getaway, the tan became a craze based on sexiness and value of wealth. You were rich enough to relax outside on a beach and soak in some sun, while your dad's company hired a vast majority at a sweatshop. One small change can revolutionize the social class.

My life has always been opposite. I never understood it. Like, when a family member of mine doesn't want to take a picture with us, our aunt would blame my sister and I (we are twins). They call us odiosa, which I don't have a translation in English but it isn't a nice word to call someone. Or whenever I think about the worst of something, the outcome is excellent. If someone tells me to think the best of something, the result is bad. But, if I think it's going to be incredibly boring or it will be a bad time, the end is the best day. It might be Murphy's Law soaked into my soul.

My name is Tatiana and I'm from the Bronx. I love the history of New York City, especially the Bronx and Downtown Manhattan. I frequently write about everything and anything I want. I have notebooks filled with pages of my fresh mind. I read and read and read. I love to read. I love theater, ballet, filmmaking, and anything related to the arts. I is a selfish word. It brags about me, which doesn't want me to talk about you. You makes me feel equal. This is a little introduction about myself based on reality. Call it journaling, blogging, it's just writing to me. This is how I view my world. How about yours?