On Hurt Humans Hurting Other Humans

Yesterday night I sat down and began to type out a public letter to all the parents of the 4th grade children in Wolfie's school. I typed the post out in anger, got everything out I needed to process, and then deleted the whole letter. Here's why: humans who are hurt tend to turn around and hurt other humans. What would have been the point of using my anger in this way? Who stood to gain from my words?

On Monday night I asked the Wolf to please take a shower so I could brush out his hair really well. On good days, it takes me 30 minutes to brush it out. It can take as long as an hour on other days when he doesn't let me put it up in braids and decides to wear it free. But that night was different, I brushed it out section by section and asked him how many braids he wanted--he typically chooses either one thick one in the back or one braid on each side of his head. I ended up doing four braids on his head to keep it all out of his face and manageable.

Here is Wolfie with his four braids on Wednesday night. 

On Wednesday night before I left for the theater, I stopped in his room to ask him how his day went. He told me everything was fine. He said, "Everything's good, Ma." This is code for, 'I survived another day of elementary school in Huntington Beach and one day I will write a book about my experiences and make millions.'

I responded with, "I'm glad you had a great day at school. I bet the kids loved your braids." He looked me in the eyes for a few seconds before his composure cracked and he said, "Well, they didn't really like my hair. Some of the kids were telling me that I look like a girl." I kept my cool while we began to discuss how he handled the situation and I was so proud when he told me he didn't punch anyone, but that he did respond that there is nothing wrong with being a girl. I asked him if he told his teacher about the behavior (he never does) and he responded that teachers are busy and it wasn't a really big deal. I believed him, but I still cried all the way to the theater (30 miles away) because I wished he didn't have to continually defend his choice to keep his hair long.

The following morning I woke him up early to take his braids out and brush through his hair before taking him to school. He was excited to get the braids out and let his hair go free for the day. He did warn me that he would need to wash it again in the evening because it was a day he would be doing PE. I sent him off to school with the hope and prayer that the kids would be kinder today. I shouldn't ask so much of the universe, or of fourth grade kids, when Mercury is in retrograde.

Wolfie with his hair free and not in braids.

Thursday evening comes around and it was time to get the Wolf into the shower. I asked him how his day went. He said, "Well, I guess it was ok but the kids won't stop running their hands through my hair. They just want to touch it and I have to keep running away." I don't know if I was effective in hiding my emotions in the moment, but I asked him if he could please tell me who was doing this to him so I could address it at school myself. He would not tell me because he didn't want the children to get in trouble. So I asked, "Did this happen in your classroom?" He replied that it was during PE, which meant that it could have been any of the 4th graders at his school. I wanted to SCREAM! I again apologized to him that kids are this way with him and we continued our evening with his shower and a good brush-out.

A little background on the Wolf's hair and his sensitivity to anyone touching his hair: HE HATES IT. There are only three people in the world who are allowed to touch his hair on a regular basis--me, his father, and his sister Azcal. He allows us to brush, braid, or set loose his hair without feeling some sort of anxiety or like he is not in control of his head. If anyone else touches his hair, he feels as though he doesn't have control or agency and the results of that are not fun for anyone. Wolfie feels all of his power through his head/hair, and he knows who he feels trust with in order to allow them to touch it. It's as simple as this and shouldn't require constant reminders to the kids at school. Right? What happened to using "keep your hands to yourself" as a general rule?

Azcal brushing out Wolfie's hair in preparation of braiding it.

So now that I have discussed what has happened to the Wolf this week and why kids shouldn't touch his hair, I want to touch on the topic of hurt humans hurting other humans. 

On the way to run an errand today I called Lola (our 21-year-old) to ask her how her day was going. During our discussion she told me that the Wolf was being bratty with her this week and mean in the way he would speak to her. When I asked her to give me examples so that we could address it with him, she told me that he made some unkind references to her appearance--he said them in jest (her interpretation), but even though they were delivered in jest she was still shocked he would speak to her like that. 

My initial response addressed her pain. I apologized that she was feeling this way and that of all people the Wolf would do this to, she should have never been the recipient of his jerk behavior. She was as shocked as I was. I then said to her, "I am not saying this to you to justify his behavior. I want you to know that I will 100% address this and he will come to you afterwards. I also want you to know what has been going on with him in school this week," and I explained the above. I then went on to say, "he is using you as his scapegoat for the pain that others have inflicted on him this week. He is not justified and he is terribly wrong and unkind in doing this to you, but I want you to understand that he is not doing this because he loves you less, ok? He is doing this because hurt humans hurt other humans." 

Root

Cause

Analysis

The Wolf saying goodbye to the sun. 

I am going to end this post today with a huge ask: if you have children who do not live in a bubble, please talk to them about agency over their bodies and explain to them that putting their hands on someone else when not invited to do so is harmful. It may cause trauma and that trauma starts a domino effect. Please tell your children to be kind to other humans (and animals!) and to start by not making fun of other children because they don't fit the gender mold you have brought them up to believe--or that the media has had them believe. 

Life is difficult enough as a 10-year-old native boy growing up in Huntington Beach. TRUST ME ON THIS. He has enough challenges without your kids acting like their opinions of his hair are more valuable than his right to wear it long. 

Just do better. And ask your kids to do the same. 

Signed, 

One exhausted momma

On My Love Letter to Eva, La Malentendida...

One day I will post on all the reasons why I write about women who are misunderstood, but this blog post will focus on my performance last night.

I am part of a group of female writers who form the collective, Chicanas, Cholas, y Chisme. We are based out of Boyle Heights, California, and housed in the beautiful CASA 0101 Theater. In its 8th year of production, Latinas from the area come together to write stories, our stories, so that others (like Jeanine Cummins) don't do it for us. Once the plays have been written, we cast local actors, produce, direct, promote, and fundraise ourselves. To say we are a group of mujeres who do it all is an understatement!

Speaking of fundraisers, we had an event last night called Love, Lust, and Locuras. I participated in it last year and wrote "Food is my Love Language" while driving to the event. This year I signed up to perform a piece and I wanted to make sure to write a piece that would give a little bit of context as to why I wrote about Biblical Eve for this year's new works festival. I told Claudia, Elvia, and Mariana that I would be reading aloud a love letter to Eve--what I should have specified was that I still HAD TO WRITE this piece and it was already Monday night!

On Tuesday night I still didn't have anything written.

On Wednesday night I said to my husband, "I don't think I am going to follow-through on my performance this year. I feel like I'm under this cloud of grief and I can't get motivated to write it. But I will still take the potluck food and support the writers. Plus, there will be other opportunities for me to write to Eve." I was half-expecting him to push me to write and perform, but he said, "Ok, babe, you've had so many great opportunities to perform your work in other spaces. It's ok if you can't do it this week." Those words were magic to my ears: the pressure to write a piece and perform it, all while balancing life and grief, was removed from my shoulders instantly. I told him that when we got home I would send a message to the producers of the fundraiser that I was giving my spot up.

I obviously never got around to sending out the e-mail...

Fast forward to yesterday morning when I'm sitting in a conference room in Escondido. I was early to a work meeting and was thinking about how I was going to arrive to the fundraiser with my famous vegan chili and a steaming pot of jasmine rice. That feeling of confidence that it would be enough started to wane very quickly. I looked over at my colleague's daily planner and noticed he had a lined pad that still had some blank pages in it, so I asked him if I could have a sheet of paper. It was 9:57 am and our meeting wasn't scheduled to begin until 10:30.

I began writing "A Love Letter to Biblical Eve" while waiting for more of my colleagues to arrive for our meeting. And I kept going until the meeting began and I felt I was in a good place to stop.

When the meeting was over and we were going to begin the drive back to Fountain Valley, I asked my colleague (he was driving) if he would mind if I kept writing. I had written a page and a half and still had many more things I needed to write to Eve. As he didn't mind, I kept writing and writing, and after running out of space on the lined paper, I turned over the agenda from the meeting and began writing on the back of that...

It felt like we flew back to our office and I didn't have the slightest idea how to finish Eve's letter. All I knew was that I had to hurry to my computer so I could get it typed up in time to perform at Love, Lust, and Locuras.

I didn't really have an ending thought out yet, and I had 11 minutes before I had to leave to grab a change of clothes and the food for the event, so I wrote what felt the most natural: invite Eva, La Malentendida, to come watch the play I had written about her.

I printed it...gave it a final blessing...and packed it up in my Happy Planner.

This is the result:

A Love Letter to Biblical Eve

I don't know if you have ever performed in a theater full of allies and accomplices, but I received so much positive energy and love from everyone in the theater. In the interest of full disclosure, I black/blank out when I perform: I do not like the anticipation of performing, but somehow manage to thrive when sharing my voice with the world.

I hope you enjoyed my love letter, and I hope to see you in the theater! "Di que si, di que si, DI QUE SI!"

Until next time...

-LorenaMorena, una Malentendida