In the game of life; M. Leah wins

Stack my little plastic car full of babies and spin the wheel because I’m having a pretty good day today. I don’t know if its because I’m teaching a class on gender right now or (gasp!) I’m becoming an adult, but after going to my college reunion I thought it would be a good time to reflect on the life that is mine.
College was an interesting time for me. I made the best friends in the world. We’ve had some rocky points as friends, but I totally trust them to never judge any of the decisions I make in life (unless they are totally stupid and ridiculous, and then they will just let me have it). Mind you, not all of the people I socialized with were winners. I had a few test drives before I found my friends, my major, and my life path. Now throw in some sexual assault, misogyny, a culture that breeds an unequal power dynamic, and some freezing New England weather; and that’s just a recipe for disaster. I know everyone flails in college, but I feel I especially had a rough time finding myself. I look back with a little regret. I wish I did more and got drunk less. I wish I tried more new things instead of worrying if I looked cool.
I had a really good weekend. I spent time with people who I enjoy and it was a wonderful time. In college I was too busy getting drunk and having unsatisfying make outs with unsatisfying men. But at reunion, I did it my way.
Not like I don’t fall back into that every now and again. Please, I think life is a daily struggle between yourself and your demons. Mine happen to be insecurity and men. However, now I am totally fine being the quirky kinky mixed-ethnic goofball hottie that I am today, back then…not so much.
I know I talk a lot about my mother, but I feel some of her insecurities seeped into me. I know she tried, and I thank her and commend her for what she has done, but I also think about how I will be when I have daughters.
On my way to my reunion she tells me not to drink (yeah that’s not going to happen) and not to have sex with anyone so it won’t wind up on You Tube (I think she recently discovered it, there must have been a Dateline special or it was on The View). She just never gets it, she should have said, have a very good time, say hello to your friends and enjoy being able to reconnect to people you met during the most weird and tumultuous time of your life. But instead I get, why do you want to go there, what do these people mean to you, would they even notice if you weren’t there and don’t be a drunk slut.
I was a little unsure in college and not very self aware, it took me awhile to grow into my skin and I found college to be a little overwhelming and intimidating. This was the first time I experienced such extreme elitism and money and it was so foreign to me. Some people looked so at ease in college, either in the classroom (which I wasn’t) or socially (which I tried) but I just always felt I was one step behind, so to make up for that I probably did a few things or a few people that I regret.
And so I was telling her that it went well, that I was happy with where I was in life and that I looked good! So maybe it was me instead of them. Maybe I was the one who was so insecure that it showed and people didn’t know how to relate to me. That is a possibility, maybe I just judged too quickly that someone so different just couldn’t understand and therefore I made the decision to not try before they could have the opportunity to reject me. And what is my mother’s response
“Well maybe you were just acting like a loud Puerto Rican”
Now how is someone supposed to be proud of their heritage when their mother and link to their Latin culture despises it so?
I was never a loud Puerto Rican. I was an insecure sad awkward girl who wasn’t proud or comfortable of any of her ethnicities and therefore could never take pride in my Puerto Rican-ness since it was never something I understood. I was never a loud Puerto Rican, I was a girl who obviously looked different but never was taught to love that difference.
Now, I am trying to work through it all. Figure out what it means to be me. Going to college brought back some hard memories. Stepping up to [redacted] fraternity, my chest began to constrict. I was too drunk to think straight, and all those years of building myself up, I came crumbling down. I was that insecure freshman again.
I was a freshman, he was a sophomore, he told people he took my virginity, I countered with a personal e-mail telling him he had a small penis.
Now how was I supposed to know that would mean social suicide?
As a stood there hugging my cardigan to my body listening to some guy I had never met tell me I was a slut and a perverted kinky bitch who licks cum off guys chests (See the older M. Leah would have said “hell yeah I did, what you jealous?” But 19 yr old M. Leah was mortified), I broke a little on the inside. My façade came crumbling down. You go to college to reinvent yourself, my performance was just called out and it was still the first month. Almost nine years later it all came back to me as I walked up those steps for probably the hundredth time since, but this time with a little reflexivity and a whole lot more self awareness and confidence, I just didn’t want to do it. Standing around awkwardly in a male dominated space just had no appeal to me, so I did what I never would have done back then; I left.
I think college sucked in a lot of ways, but I wouldn’t be where I am if it wasn’t for that, and honestly I can’t complain too much. I had a good time for most of it, but I’m glad it’s in the past. I live in a different world now, one that doesn’t revolve around trust funds and summer homes in the cape or out on the island. I didn’t go to college to be exposed to a larger social network of eligible wasp husbands. I went to find myself. I think I did.
(More on the career path of my peers later)