Machista influences...boo!!

Coming back home has been great. Eating with the family and just being around them is always an enjoyable experience. I think that family is truly a blessing in every sense of the word that I can fathom at this point in my life. I love to be around family, because there are always shared laughs, funny stories, catching up and hearing the latest chisme about family and other people in small town Merced (my abuela is the queen Chismosa, la reina de chisme). Food indiscreetly makes its presence known to accompany conversation but surprisingly...or maybe not, it's never an interruption (I love how my culture is communally oriented around food) and an indescribable but familiar peace comes over me, and I would like to think all of us, when we're around each other. It's just one of those "good" feelings. I guess that's the simple way to put it. However, amidst all of this there was one thing I couldn't help but notice. My father kind of stood alone and seemed a little more reluctant to join conversation. I could think of a number of reasons why. I mean, my dad is a considerate man. He always offers to let the rest of the family sit down and eat first, because there isn't exactly tons of room in the kitchen. Maybe it was the fact that it was my mom's side of the family and he was just letting them sit down and enjoy the time together although my father and mother have integrated themselves well into each other's family.

Perhaps, my father was just withdrawing himself from any further temptation of eating certain Thanksgiving dishes given his newly restricted diet he must adhere to after probably his closest encounter with death to date which happened about 3 weeks ago when he had a stroke. I'm not really sure, in any case, I was conscious of this and I went to stand up and eat by him. We didn't talk much, in fact, my ears were still guiding my mind towards the table where my Abuela was talking about how life was full of amazing things and how she was still young and she was encouraging my primos and tios to get out. Anyone who knows my Abuela, knows that she can talk forever, one shouldn't feel too bad about cutting her off.

Anyway, being around my dad, I was kind of lost for words. I'm not sure if he noticed me standing by him. I'm not sure if he even appreciated my gesture. I started talking to him about the first thing that came to mind. I asked him to continue checking his sugar levels. Really, my poor attempt of trying to have the "Dad I love you and I want you to know that I want you to change your lifestyle talk because I don't want to see you go and mom and the rest of the family need you..." talk. Yeah, I'm pretty sure I didn't convey anything of that nature, but maybe the circumstances of the situation kind of made me not go full out with it. I mean, everyone was around, plus that is a personal conversation to be had or maybe I'm trying to justify my pathetic effort. Probably the latter but it's on my heart and on my mind. Hopefully, at least that was conveyed. However, I fear that "duty" from a son to a father may have stood out over "love" from son to a father. This has been something that has convicted me lately. Clearly from God. In this season where I'm learning about relationships in general and how to be a "man", it's only fitting that God would bring this out in my life. Kind of a double whammy and God straight mollywhopped me. Of course, it was done with grace.

Rewind my life a little over 3 weeks ago and I was getting over some slight depression in my life and I get the call from my mother that my father was in the hospital. I think I was more shocked than anything. However, I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. One too many tortillas, beers, and other greasy foods probably did the trick. I just continued to check on my father through my mother, but I never felt the urgency to really to talk to my father. It wasn't until a week and half after the stroke where I called my mom and then she asked if I wanted to talk to my dad. I thought to myself, "Yeah, I guess...I think I'd be alright either way." A moment later I simply said "yes." This thought made me question myself a lot. One of those "What kind of person am I?" moments. It made me really call into question my relationship with my father. At the end of our brief telephone conversation which is honestly reduced to sports, if I have seen my sister and trite "how are you's?" the dreaded of all things came as it always does when I had to confront the awkward feeling when I said those three little words "I love you" accompanied by a more sincere than ever "Take care of yourself." I wonder if he knew I meant it?

I think this is something that he and I have created between ourselves the past "x" amount of years and I only say that because I can't really detect a certain point where it all began. I think back when I was a little kid, and my dad never told me he loved me so much as far as I can remember. He taught me how to box, wrestle, play catch, throw a football, play soccer, etc. He was even somewhat of a father figure in the neighborhood where many of my friends really didn't have fathers. My dad took me fishing, and taught me how skip rocks at the lake, but never really mentioned to me that he loved me. I think he expressed it in different ways. He has always provided for the family even though that role has shifted the past 5 years. Now it's my mom who works two jobs and my dad is probably going to start working his job again next week which doesn't pay well and doesn't have any benefits.

Anyway, my dad never really has told me often. They are too far and few between to really remember when they were said. I think the times I feel most loved by my father are when he calls me simply "mijo." A simple and affectionate term that literally translates into "my son." I don't really understand it, but when he says that to me, I feel loved. I think my Abuelo treated my father and my tios the same way when they were growing up. My mom actually told me this once, because I asked her as a child "how come dad doesn't say he loves me?" I distinctly remember this and she told me "You dad mijo, loves you even if he doesn't say it. You have to understand that your abuelo didn't ever really tell you dad or your tios that he loved them and my dad never told my brothers that. This is just the way it is but it doesn't mean that he doesn't love you. Your father wakes up early every morning at 4:30 and works his butt off so that you and your sister can have everything that you need and more..." I think that this is the extent that my father's love reaches me and maybe this is a little selfish, borderline emo (yes i can see the bangs over my eyes playing simple plan's "Sorry i can't be perfect..." yeah I don't even know if that's the name of the song and that song doesn't really describe this situation but it's really the only emo song I could think of) of me, but I think that this is wrong. I said it. I think this machista cultural characteristic is silly. Don't get me wrong. I love my culture and I embrace everything, but this is something that I thoroughly dislike and I wish more men would stand up to this false sense of manhood.

I think about a man I interviewed at a taqueria when I was in D.F., Mexico for a immigrant returnee project, and how he mentioned that life was hard as an immigrant in the U.S. The labor was hard clearly but also the fact that he lived with eight other men in a small apartment, and they never talked about their struggles together. He would mention how he would cry at night in his pillow and hope nobody heard him because he missed his family, and he couldn't talk to anyone about it really and life was just so hard. I kept thinking to myself, I wish he had an outlet for this. I know that everything wouldn't have been good but I know it would have made him feel better emotionally. It sucks to hold things in, and it feels better to release your feelings. You know, let loose like college kids in TJ, no reservations. Well, ok, maybe not like that but seriously, it's always nice to share your feelings with someone. Being a man is characterized as being tough, not admitting you're hurt or sad, and controlling your emotions, otherwise, one might be considered too much of a girl if they did that. One might even be considered a joto (derogatory term for gay men) or a maricon ("faggot") if they open up too much to another man.

I don't really understand how this all began, because I think human beings are inextricably linked by love. That we all desire to love and be loved. Hopefully, we all look to God for that. When I think about it, I think I've only seen my father really open up once and I could tell it was very hard. It was when I was about 9 years old and my sister had ran away for the "x-th" time and I my father just started crying in the kitchen. I didn't really understand it. I just walked over to him with my mom. When I think back, I think he was crying because he felt like he was working really hard to keep my family together, but my sister, had run away, and I think it hurt him to feel like he couldn't hold things together. That is my guess, I don't really know how he felt.

Anyway, going back to what my mom said, I don't think that the extent of my father's love should be through my mother but from him to me and me to him. Even when I get cards on occasion from my "parents" it always says "we love you" but I know it's my mom who wrote everything. Now, I don't think this is completely my father's fault but I don't think he really knows how to express himself, which has kind of made me have to work a little harder when I have to express my feelings and analyze and process how I feel. I don't think anybody should feel restricted to express themselves by fear, or by shame, or by embarrassment that it makes one "less manly" because I'm sure that this the core issue here. I look to my father and my abuelo to be an examples of everything a man is suppose to be but I don't think I can really look to them in this area because I think God is shaping me differently as far as what it means to be a "man."

I see the way my father interacts with his father and they're somewhat affectionate now, but I don't really want to wait until my father is approaching 90 to have to tell him that I love him and that I mean it. I think now more than ever with all the pressures of being a "man" comes a test to take a step towards that and I feel like God has really convicted me to have my first ever heart to heart with my father. I think the longer I wait the more I become what I fear which is to not be a "man of God". This is not to judge my father's shortcomings by any means, because I'm sure that I will fall short of it all as well, but it's really just the cry of a son who wants to love his father more and be in love with his father more and want that in return. In any case, I will attempt to do this all this week while I'm here in Merced. It is my hope that it goes smoothly. As for now I must go because I need to go watch a football game with my dad. Yes, on a Friday night here in Merced there aren't really too many father-son things to do and my mom is at work, so maybe it will happen soon maybe not. I can only hope for the best.

SZ