Diary of a mad, fat Puerto Rican Woman leaving the island

Let me begin by stating a fact that has taken me years to get over. I am a fat Puerto Rican woman. I am only a size 14 but that is huge for our standards, especially on an island where the pressure to look your sexiest is a lifelong pursuit. Throughout my life, I’ve somehow felt pressure to apologize for not looking like what I’m told would be the “best version of myself.” Understand this is purely an aesthetic issue, otherwise I am quite healthy and active. I come from a long line of fat, beautiful, strong and loved women. My mom was fat before me, and probably so was my grandmother. 

While on the subject, my mother’s family moved to the United States at the age of two, and I in turn left for Puerto Rico at the age of five, which, according to most intellectuals on the matter makes me a Nuyorican amongst my people, regardless of where I was born.

This coming-and-going is quite usual in our history. As current studies show, my generation is veritably stampeding out of the island in alarming numbers, and soon I will be yet another figure in the trend. At the same time, it seems like every day there is another post criticizing our young workforce for leaving the island. The cynic in me worries this is yet another stab at further dividing us.

As I sit down to write, I struggle to find the right words to keep me out of trouble with all the influences that make my experience unique, yet all too common. I find that the best place to begin this piece is by responding to the video “What Life is Really Like in Puerto Rico.” I would, however, add one element to the equation: what is life really like in Puerto Rico for a WOMAN?

In short, what follows is a breakdown of some of the claims made in Seeker Daily’s video based on my background as a feminist, a firm believer in Puerto Rico’s colonial mentality, and an island resident for the past 24 years.

Fit, tan, sun-hat wearing, rum-sipping locals are often emblematic of the territory […] The vast majority [on the island] live in densely populated urban areas often accompanied by power outages and high rates of violence, homicide and unemployment when compared to the United States.

Yes, we have year-round sunny beaches…except when there are reports of flesh-eating bacteria. The fact is our days hang in the balance of sensationalist news, intolerable traffic conditions, and the folly of politicians who have for years mismanaged public funds. Power outages are indeed common, as are drought periods; we are actually currently in one. Of course, add to all that our two national pastimes: debating over the political status and beauty pageants.

In truth, we are universally known for our beautiful women. Recently an article popped up in my news feed stating that Puerto Rican women are genetically ideal. A computational biologist at Berkely came up with this formulaic proclamation in December of last year (and what a marvelously useful bit of science that was!)

These kinds of reports routinely resurface in our local news cycle, especially in times of crises. Why? Well, because our women are our hottest commodities. The general thinking seems to be, as long as we feel fabulous, and our men feel proud to have us, everything will turn out for the best.

The result? Most of us women are exactly as capitalism and our tourism industry wants us to be. We are sexy, we dress provocatively and we pride ourselves in our oversexed reputation. As ready-made consumers we run to buy makeup, hair products (whip out some keratin and straightening irons!) and search for ways to afford cosmetic surgery.

Meanwhile, cases like that of Dhelmalyz Ríos Rivera, Nancy Santana García, Beverly Ann Brignoni and Migdalia Cordero Cabrera, who all died after their cosmetic procedures stand as short-lived reminders of the dangers some women face in order to fill an expensive and transient physical ideal perpetuated by mainstream media and assimilated by an intrinsically chauvinistic society.

On a side note, throughout the video the bodies of young, athletic women at the beach or at a party are very kindly exhibited. Conversely, overweight, darker and/or older women are, slyly, rendered invisible. Watch out though for a healthy dosage of older, balding men with proud beer-bellies. We are certainly never short on those.

9 out of 10 people are Roman Catholic.

This last figure is highly debatable. There is a growing number of followers flocking to other (mostly ultra-conservative) churches, some of which hold great political power. Moreover, this figure doesn’t take into account an entire community of people who are nonbelievers.

But even if it did, it doesn’t change the fact that religion is imbued in every part of our lives, whether we like it or not. Religious music is regularly played in our government offices. It is not uncommon for radio jockeys and news announcers to talk about religion at one time or another, and everyone offers you a blessing. Again, whether you like it or not.

A few days ago, a man drove up to my house selling cakes for a young girl supposedly in need of a bone-marrow transplant. As you may know already, times are financially tight here, but there is another reason I’ve decided to not cooperate with these individuals anymore.

Apparently there is a nearby factory that sells its surplus cakes relatively cheap to people who plaster a child’s face on a poster and claim they are collecting funds to save its life. The leader of this one particular group hired an acquaintance of mine and some of his friends as sellers in yet another example of Puerto Rico’s whopping underground economy. For some perspective on this issue, some experts believe a third of the island’s economy runs underground due to unemployment rates and a host of other factors I will not discuss here.

Now, back to the man selling me cakes. I politely said I wasn’t interested and he quite plainly asked me if I was religious. When I answered no, he began yelling furiously from his car “You don’t believe in anything!”

“That’s right, I don’t!” I responded, at which time my husband came out of the house. The man proceeded to tell my husband to ponerme respeto, something that loosely translates to “teach her some respect.” My husband was furious, I wasn’t surprised at all. It’s just another day as a woman in Puerto Rico, where all men assume a paternalistic attitude towards women.

As if that weren’t enough, there is also a new fad: bloqueos de fe. Or faith blockades. In scattered cities, some police officials stop drivers and force them to pray, or pay a fine.

Puerto Rico is rapidly tightening its paternalistic grip on its citizens…As I mentioned before we are currently in a drought period. This time, the rule is we lose water service every other day. The use of hoses on the days we do have water is prohibited; else the government catches and fines you. The newest threat is to take water away from my area three days at a time.

At parties, it is common to see people dancing reguetéon, jíbaro and salsa.

But we do know how to party. Rum-sipping, salsa-dancing is dead on. Admittedly, jíbaro is not a dance but I’ll let that one slide. Let me just say that the amount of parties and festivities celebrated on the island is downright frantic. And I have yet to see a serious study done on the levels of alcoholism amongst our citizens.

I confess my generation gave reguetón to the world (I’m sorry). And most of the world was rhythmically enthused with the music’s raw and relentless vibes, especially non-Spanish speakers. The simple fact is that it has always been a music forged on violence and demeaning attitudes towards women. It is hard to quantify its effects on our society, except maybe if you consider the amount of women who die at the hands of their partners.

I know of two cases personally.

I won’t even count the rapes.

Unfortunately, finding work in government can be challenging, especially since it’s the island’s main source of employment.

Most states in the union report 4% of their employment to be in the public sector. Puerto Rico’s is 20%. Interestingly, women are 54% of this workforce. This means that despite women’s laughable numbers in high-level government positions, most of the people working behind the scenes are women.

I worked briefly for a government office. Specifically, I formed part of a group of university students selected to work in different projects for a municipality (something like a town). Despite my experience—and most probably because of it—I was hired at minimum wage. After a few weeks my supervisor left me in charge of the office due to an operation she said she had put off for too long. It was only later I realized she meant a facelift.

This program has since been cut out of the budget but the anecdote is just another example of the abuses young people here face in the workforce.

So I’m leaving my beautiful island. I’m leaving because I’m tired of the mailman only handing my mail to the “man of the house.” I’m leaving because my religious rights are repeatedly violated. I’m leaving because I cringe every time I see the government-sactioned rape-prevention posters all over my campus, because our young revolutionaries only troll, talk and drink. Because some use their media influence to petition bars to pay the latest consumer tax and keep the beer prices stable. Because no one else seems to care. Because the precious few who do are often ridiculed. Because local interests groups stick anti-abortion posters all over our only train route.

Because the assigned office for women’s issues does next to nothing to address any of this and I’m tired of feeling alienated for thinking the way I do.

I’m leaving because two political parties, (and two nations!) have fought for power for generations and have done nothing to make this a better place to live. Because I’m fed up of hearing shady and/or domestic-violence chismes about our old and future political candidates. I’m leaving because woman after woman looks visibly uncomfortable talking to my local news anchor, and because the only political figure openly promising gender perspective for our education is yet another sex symbol. Mostly I’m sick of the gaping silence of my people. Of our women.

I am leaving because I’ve studied and worked hard, the opportunity has risen and because I deserve better than to be second-class citizen because of my background, my gender, because of my physical appearance. And no amount of fat-bashing, slut-shaming, guilt-inducing remarks will stop me from saying, writing it.