True story: My second great grandfather had one of those Arabian last names, those names who start with 'Al' and have a sound you keep in your tongue after you send it away. One night a casual conversation with grandma told the truth about our so thought exotic last name, which then it wasn't even mine to "wear" Almarz had adopted a son, who wasn't his, and didn't carry his blood, neither his imported color. This boy was my great grandfather. We weren't Almarz, nor exotic or aliens to that dusty land anymore. We were the same but different....What are we then? I worried ... Dad took it humorously and cheerfully replied "we are pirates" (Almarz pirated). That day I stop justifying my long nose through outlandish ancestors, even if the boldness of it didn't even come from that side. I am a pirate!!
True story. Mom looked in me and saw I was an artist long before I believed it myself. When I was little one Mother’s Day I gave her a painting of blue skies, a boat, and some fishermen on a lake. Nothing profane ...but years later she told me how she had noticed I had included the reflections of the boat and clouds on the water and knew my eyes saw things very different than hers. As a teen I thought all the extra Art clases and art supplies was my mom’s way to award me for my good grades. Now I know I wasn’t being spoiled I was being understood. As a mom I keep my eyes open for clues to understand my children’s spirits, and make sure their talents and gift are being nurture. I owed it to them and my mom.
The story goes like this, grandma had a passion for horses since she was very little, one time trying to convince her cousin to ride on one and not being very tall to balance over a horse even with the help of a chair, she brought a horse inside the house to see if they could get on it by jumping from her mom’s (my great-grandma’s) bed... But the story gets better, one day grandma started wearing pants instead of dresses to ride horses, she was the only woman in her family (and city/town) wearing “boy clothes.” She wanted to ride horses all day like her brothers and pants just made more sense. I am sure you have a similar story of woman pioneering fundamental rights by merely pursuing their OWN passions. I believed passions emanate from the truest more authentic part of ourselves. Grandma never boasted over her achievements as a feminist or fashionista , for her: horses were horses, pants were pants and humans were humans. I like grandma, I carried her story with me. It makes me a little braver at times but over all it teaches me that it serves to every human in the world to believe in our passions with good faith. Happy International Women’s Day.