Part Two

Then I discovered the other half of my heritage. At 15, I found my long-lost Grandma Juanita, papi’s mom. She represented all I thought I wanted to be and I inherited her name. Initially, I was magnetically drawn to her — Grandma Juanita was and is–modern.

She goes to the salon every two weeks and along with facials gets her toes and nails well groomed usually with earth tone colors. (more…)

Wela, my great-grandmother, is still in the cocina infusing the smell of rice and beans into my hair and clothes. For years, I’ve watched the heat in the kitchen paint her face like a tomato and the steam from the pot of rice fog her 1980’s glasses as they slip down her pudgy nose.

Growing up, I thought Wela was too old-fashioned. I did not understand her perspectives, her restrictions and her style. “You have to learn how to cook so you can serve your husband and family,” explained Wela countless times. She automatically assumed my ultimate destiny meant marriage and kids. (more…)