Trust in Pride

With permission from Cecelia, here is her contribution on the subject of toxicity in the Chicano culture.  First a brief description about Cecelia.  Cecelia and I met at a writing workshop.  I was there with a living hero, Jimmy Santiago Baca.  He allowed me to participate despite never being published or credited as a writer.  Cecelia was there too.  She supported me during a really difficult moment during the conference.  I didn't believe myself to be a writer and I was among professional and aspiring writers.  I was challenged to share my work out loud.

I was asked to read aloud my novice writing.  With my voice trembling in my tentative tone, I read a poem.  It got rocked and I was told my writing wasn't passionate.  I was called out, and I remember it went something like this, "your writing seems to lack passion".  With that statement, woke the calloused part of my soul.

I found an inner passion to describe the sadness I live with.  I told them about the parts of me that skirt around the big dogs because I don't feel I belong.  I have never been asked to read aloud.  I told the group how difficult it is to play passionately because what I am passionate about will provoke and confront their privileged metaphorical Anglo playgrounds.  I have to be somewhat abstract to conceal the sacredness of the moment and those involved.  But I let my educated, learned, and vetted understanding of myself and history propel my passionate, possibly disappointed, perspectives flow.

They came out in a voice that turned from trembling into a shaking near tears fountain of rawness. Out came my thoughts, from the depths of the cellars they have been kept quietly pacing.  Like bunched up New Mexicans at the labor lines waiting for the opportunity to contribute to my cause.  It felt like a petition, and quickly I realized I had spoken my truth.  At the end I found myself embarrassed and ashamed.  I felt like I had no right to be so passionate in someone else's passion playground.

But to sum it up, I described how I hold myself back because it feels like my place.  My place is modest and purpose centered.  I watched my grandmother prepare the best New Mexican food for the richest Anglos in New Mexico, and never ask to be called a chef.  I watched my grandpa build cabinets for several churches in the North Valley of Albuquerque never asking for recognition or profits.  I try to live the same way.

Here I was a wanna be writer among skilled writers just happy to be in the same room as Jimmy Baca.  I couldn't be passionate because I was scared that what I had to say would hurt feelings.  The source of my passion is in their ancestors injustice.  Especially the judgment, maybe jealousy,  I see in how free the Anglo culture is allowed to be proud and loud.  The passion I have is rooted in the paradox of being given opportunity to be great but only knowing how to be modest.

Cecelia and a few other strong Latin writers supported me and best of all shared the feelings.  I had skeena.  I have shared my passion with people who rarely understand and often call me disruptive, cynical, and harsh.  I have had to remind myself that I am a tender person who is a warrior.  I have to keep close the reminder that I was raised not to fight, and not to be afraid to protect myself.  Cecelia ratified my emotions, ideas, and passion.

We sat at dinner and she shared her story with me.  I knew after leaving that weekend that I must speak my passions modestly.  I will not be afraid to defend myself, my story, and my perspectives.  I will know that my truth is not necessarily offensive but can incense emotions in others.  It's not my responsibility any longer to wonder how my story will make others feel.

Thank you for the standing along side me.  It has felt for awhile as if my ideas are isolatingly antagonizing.  It is a joy and relief to be in the spirit of great people like Cecelia.

Cecelia  shared the following:

Ron,

This is a reflection on both Toxic Humility and Mistrust of Pride, as I see the two topics inextricably linked - at least in my experience as a Mexican-American woman growing up in southern California in the 50s and 60s.

My father was a strong man, with a humble spirit, and unspoken pride in his heritage, his work ethic and the accomplishments of his children.  He taught me "never draw attention to yourself" as that was arrogant and unnecessary.  He believed that "If you work hard and do what you have signed-on to do, people will notice and they will recognize you and reward you, as appropriate.  You don't need to promote yourself."

I have lived my 65 years of life believing this is true, acting in concert with it and seeing his prediction play out in my own life.  And yet, there have been moments when I too have been unable to take pride in the "magnificent" parts of myself and that has felt uncomfortable and (although I never would have come up with the term myself) "toxically humble."

These posts have shined a light on layers and layers of my being and my identity - for me to reexamine.  I will let you know where that road takes me.  Thank you, Ron.

Cecelia