There are a lot of things that make me, me - Lluvia. There is for example why I don’t believe in religion, or why I think my mother is the strongest woman in the world, or being raised a female in a third world patriarchal country. But I decided to write this essay on how I became a woman.
31 ½ inches - breasts too small. Instead of focusing on my point of view; on what I think, they look at my breasts. At twelve they are already starting to judge me for the way I look. My mind, a powerful loaded gun, but instead of bullets it is full of ideas that yearn to be expressed. But no - I have to be quiet, I have look nice, women are supposed to look good and smile - that’s it.
28 inches - not thin enough. Your waist has to be as thin and delicate as a tuberose rod. My ability is underestimated even when I try my best. I’m judged because if they consider me thin enough it is also bad because that mean I’m weak. And if I am not consider thin enough I have a horrible body.
32 ½ inches - my hips are not big enough, sexier enough. A women with small hips is considered not good to give birth. My work is not taken into account because a woman is born to give birth, to clean the house and to cook. In school classmates judge my weight, my body shape and if I use makeup or not. The hard work that I do everyday is ignored but they follow every mistake I make. Since I was a little girl I educate myself to work as hard as possible for what I need and for what I want but I’m not taken into account I’m ignored.
When I was six years old, my mother left me in Mexico to pursue the American Dream. This story affected my life as a women, as a kid and as a human being. My mother was everything to me because she had divorced my father when I was three. I was about to turn seven years when the most important person in my life had to move away from me. She had worked as hard as she could in Mexico to support me and my two brothers. When I was four we moved to another city to start from the beginning. We moved to a big house, to a horrid and murky house where we tried to make a home. My mom started working long hours in two different jobs. The work absorbed all her time that we needed a nanny. We survived for three years living with the ghost of my mother because she was never really there, but she was being the best mother she could. But she finally reached the point of exhaustion, working long hours and not having enough money to support her three children, so she decided to mo
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