This is why I write Uncensored

This is why I write Uncensored

Why do I write if I could be doing anything else during my spare time?

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I write because it's the first thing that defined my character since the age of 5. Ask anyone to draw a quick image of me growing up and they will probably depict me with a pen and notebook, sometimes even a book. It's almost impossible to imagine my life without pen and paper. I've recorded the events around me from least to most important over the last 15 years. Depicting a developing handwriting of a kindergarten kid to the scribbles of someone who has to force fit time to write.

It is not that I was so introvert I preferred to spend my time writing. On the other hand, I write because I can speak in a more profound manner. I write because my goal has always been to hit home for someone. I began to write about the events around me. I have a box filled with notebooks, diaries, and whatnot offering a time travel at any given moment of my life. I began writing as a way of analyzing people, through my note taking of personalities and mannerisms, I found a universal set of behavior patterns people follow. Years later would I assimilate these early realizations as proof that, ultimately, Goldberg wasn't lying when he came up with the Big 5 Traits of Personality. Little did I know that these early practices of mine would unconsciously be taking me into the world of psychology. Because of my writing, I became a more observant of people. I watched their facial expressions and came to learn that they reveal more truths than speaking does. Yes maybe this could categorize me in a list of weird kids, but it developed skills. Perhaps one of the most intriguing things I recorded was something I titled in scribbles, "The Inanimate Noise." In it I narrated my observation of watching someone yell, yet their level of noise and supposed exasperation never matched their facial expression. So what could be the explanation? Their facial expression was lazy and almost not into it, yet, they yelled. To which again, years later would the answer appear: A narrow-minded person, uninterested of outside opinion, yells. They yell to cause intimidation, yet their expression proves otherwise.

I decided to compromise myself to the practice of always carrying pen and paper in my bag. The same way I also carry hot sauce in my backpack, btw. As I began to immerse myself fuller in the real world, I began to notice atrocities. Atrocities that sometimes are considered not cardiac enough to be featured in the news. Yet, they are much there. I am speaking about the times I was belittled for being a woman as wanting to have the same rights as men. The times that I was brutally verbally attacked for being a foreigner in another country. The times that I witnessed others being disrespected. How could the world possibly know, if the news and media only portray certain things, and even that is polarized.

I write with exposure because I don't care about pleasing. I care about causing conscience. I was criticized as a young girl by those around me for reading too much. For writing and being involved in serious talks of current affairs instead of choosing to talk nonsense. Not because I wanted to appear mature, but because how could I speak about superfluous matters when there are things we really need to talk about.

You see people told my parents at get-togethers about how bad it looked that I was so outspoken. Instead of applauding my thirst to read all I could, I got shaking heads from many people close to me. When I mentioned matters like rape, racism, feminism, and such I got choking faces from the older generations. People wanted me to cease. They wanted me to write about the weather and superficial aspects. Why? because it troubles no one. It doesn't stir up anything. That was approval, because if I didn't bring these matters to light, then no one would feel guilty. It's easy to live in a world of pretending when you have the luxury of living in a bubble. But bubbles are meant to break at some point and when they do, you get denial. I have had people deny that racism exists, yet the food they eat was brought to their table by someone working strenuous hours in the heat for meager pay. Yet, they claim its non-existent. They say feminism is a rebel ideology just to argue about something, yet not too many days ago I was banned from attending a soccer game because only men were allowed. It's occurrences like these, that happen every day, that if it wasn't because of their exposure, it would go unnoticed.

There was a shift as I became older, when I noticed writing could reach people. After writing pieces about matters of injustices, doing reports on honorable people, to the point of writing about the treasures Mexico has to offer after all the crap it has gotten from the news, I have gotten feedback. Maybe not everyone agrees, and I'm glad. I've had Mexicans message me saying how much they've enjoyed finally being portrayed as not narcos. I've had people having their egos boosted when I do interviews about their contributions to society. But I also have received feedback from girls who can relate to issues I've spoken about, like that of my first publication. This is what keeps me formulating articles. That I have the satisfaction that I will reach at least one person. I combine personal experience and current events in writing as a way of adding force to that push that is needed to keep bringing forth the new voices that need to be heard. It all started with a pink notebook, and like me are many boys and girls who are told they're being too extra with their passions. To which I say, let the haters see you rollin'.

Cover Image Credit:

https://pixabay.com/en/lamp-light-lighting-light-bulb-3489395/

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A Thank You Letter To My Best Friend

All the things I should thank you for more often than I do.
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To My Best Friend,

This thank you is long overdue. There are so many things I want to thank you for, and I’m sure I’m going to still be missing some by the end of this letter. But here is a small token of my gratitude for just being by my side in this life and making it all worthwhile.

Thank you first of all for accepting me and loving me for exactly who I am. This isn’t easy. I can be stubborn, difficult and confusing, but you love and accept me for me. There are days I wonder when you’ll finally come to your senses and move on and find a new BFF, one who isn’t so complicated, but to my amazement, you never do. You tell me you’ll take the good with the bad, and when I question whether I have any good left, you’re always there to reassure me and show me that I do. Thank you for loving me in my dorky and difficult moments, moments where if the rest of the world saw them, they’d probably walk away. Thank you for understanding me like no one else does; if we didn’t have the connection we did, I can’t imagine how lonely and big this world would feel. Because of you, this world seems like a little friendlier place, one I can see myself being a part of.

Thank you for being my biggest fan. Besides my family, you are my biggest supporter, and I know that when I win, you win, and when you win, I win. In this battle we call life, it doesn’t matter who’s in my opponents corner, because I know I am always going to have you in mine, and that’s the best asset I could ever ask for. You encourage me to chase my dreams like no one else does, and I can tell that you sincerely hurt when I hurt — not many people care about me in such a deep way. Whatever crazy dream I tell you I’m going to chase after next, you believe I can do it, even when the rest of the world thinks I’m crazy for even suggesting it. When something good happens, you’re the first person I want to tell, and when something bad happens, you’re the first one I go to for support.

Thank you for being you. You are incredible my dear, and I can’t wait to constantly remind your husband that he got crazy lucky and out kicked his coverage big time. You are beautiful inside and out. On the outside, you are so gorgeous; you’re very own unique and incredible definition of beauty, and I know I’m one of many who see it. You’re intimidating to stand next to in pictures because I know your light shines so bright, but I’ll gladly stand next to you and take a picture, because I’m so excited to show the world how breathtakingly beautiful my best friend is. On the inside you are even prettier, with a warm heart, a sharp mind and an unbelievable personality. You are hands down the funniest person I know, and I still can’t believe that someone as funny and hilarious as you chooses to spend her time with someone as dweeby and awkward as me. I mean, half the time we’re laughing at some fail I had or something stupid I did, so I guess I contribute a little bit to our constant laughing. You are so kind and so sweet, and have the biggest heart of anyone I know. God spent a little extra time when he made you, because you’re the total package: you’re beautiful, awesome and amazing, all wrapped in one, and I’m so lucky he put you in my life—he knows I’d be lost without you.

Thank you for being there for me whenever I need it. It was once said that “all that relationships are are being there for someone when they need you,” and you’re a pro at this. Whether it be because another boy is being stupid or I’m feeling alone, I know all I need to do is call you, and I’ll instantly feel better. You help my through the countless problems Lord knows I have trouble solving, and you reassure me that no matter what, you’re always going to be there for me. This is huge, and something very few people have been able to do for me, but you always have, and I know you always will be. And that is the most reassuring thing I know, knowing that if all hell breaks loose, the world falls apart and I have no one, I’ll have you. And that is all I need.

Thank you for being a spark, a light in my life that no matter how dark the world around us gets, is always there to light my way and show me the way home. Thank you for laughing with me when God blesses us with a funny moment, and crying with me when God is trying to tell me something. Thank you for standing beside me in the greatest of moments and the darkest of hours. Thank you for being the one I share my fondest memories with: all the nights we stayed up really late, all the exciting adventures we went on and all the inside jokes we still laugh about today. Thank you for growing up with me; for being there every step of the way and creating some of my happiest moments with me. Thank you for all the memories I've shared with you, and I can't wait for what crazy adventure we're going to go on next.

So thank you for accepting me, loving me, and supporting me. Thank you for being your wonderful self, and thank you for being there for me, through thick and thin, even when I'm at my lowest. Thank you for shining your brilliant light into my life and illuminating my world.

Oh, and thank you for being my maid of honor. I know I won’t need to ask you for a while, but you had to know it was coming, right?

Thank you for being the godmother to my future children, the sister to my family, and another daughter to my parents.

And finally, thank you for being the best to my friend.

Cover Image Credit: EnkiVillage

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Irish-American History Is Just As Important As Any Other Culture, You Can't Prove Me Wrong

I cherish being Irish and I will not let anyone let me feel bad for that.

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Depending on when you're reading this, Saint Patrick's day has either just passed or is around the corner. For me, Saint Patrick's day is tomorrow. I've been debating this article for some time now because I didn't know how it would be perceived. At this point, though, I feel it's important for me to get out. No, Irish people were never kept as slaves in America, and I will never be one to try and say they were. However, Irish people were treated tremendously awful in America. A lot of people tend to forget, or just try to erase entirely, the history of the Irish in America. So much so that I felt shameful for wanting to celebrate my heritage. Therefore, I want to bring to light the history that everyone brushes under the rug.

In 1845, a potato famine broke out across Ireland. This was a big deal because the Irish lived off, mainly, potatoes. They were cheap, easy to grow, and had tons of nutrients. So when the famine struck, many people either died of starvation or fled to America in seek of refuge. When the Irish arrived in America they were seen as a threat to the decency of America. People viewed them as drunk beasts, sinful savages, barbaric, violent, belligerent, stupid, and white apes. When the Irish would go to look for jobs, many times they found signs that read "Irish Need Not Apply," even when the job was hiring. Therefore, the Irish did the jobs no one wanted, and even jobs African slaves wouldn't do. The biggest example of this is when Irishmen built canals and drained swamps. They were sent to do these things because of the enormous amount of mosquitoes; in the swamp, they would get bit and ultimately die of malaria.

Also, during this time, Irish people were poor and therefore lived in the same neighborhoods as the free African Americans. A lot of the Irish people were friendly with their neighbors of color and even got into interracial relationships. Because the Irish lived in these neighborhoods they were seen as dirty and even a lot of people at this time put African Americans higher on the totem pole than Irish. One person during the time even said, "At least the black families keep their homes clean."

The main reason American's outlook on Irish people changed was that most Irishmen took up fighting for the Union in the Civil War. I make this argument, not because I think the Irish suffered more than African slaves. I don't say this in means of trying to erase the struggles of the African slaves. I do not think that any of our ancestors should have been treated the way they were. I mean to say that the Irish did in fact suffer. Irish people were treated wrongly on the basis of...nothing. Simply because my ancestors hailed from the shores of Eire, they were treated with malice. And I write this simply because I want people to remember. I want people to understand what happened.

On Saint Patrick's Day this year, next year, and for the many years to come, I want people to embrace the Irish culture. I want the folks of Irish heritage to not be ashamed of where they come from; to not be ashamed to share their culture the way I have for many years. I want everyone to have a beer, wear some green, eat a potato or two, and dance the Irish step; to celebrate the history of Irish people with a bit more understanding than before.

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