Friends as you know, I am very white. Buried deep within me, however, is the spirit of my grandmother, born Dolores Sanchez. Now, my Grandma loved me and my family members very much, but was one to have a bad temper from time to time. I have some very vivid childhood memories of seeing Grandma Castillo display the scariest bursts of anger my young eyes had ever witnessed. Grandma Castillo was also fiercely loyal to her family and would defend you to the end. She also always had fabulously manicured nails. She passed away several years ago, but left me with one fantastic gift. Latina Rage.
Overall, I have been known to be somewhat of a pushover for many years. I can be very passive and struggle to say no. I especially have a difficult time ever telling people when I am angry or frustrated with them. There are many reasons for this, but I mostly blame my mom's sweet, Northern European deference. Occasionally, however, I am pushed beyond my ability to let something slide, and I find my easy-going, doormattey self start to give way. My inner Sanchez is released. The first time this happened, I had no idea how to control it, like the hulk, I was transformed into a screaming, arm-flailing, crazy-person for a full 45 seconds. Immediately afterwards I felt horrible guilt and burst into tears. Not the best problem solving I've ever done. That was several years ago, during my tumultuous teenage years. I have slowly gotten better. The last full-on Sanchez incident occurred during the early summer of 2009. If it involved you, you remember it (sorry about that...).
Now, I find myself slowly fighting off that rage to a point where I deal with things like the mature, logical adult I should be. From time to time, I need a brief outlet for this anger. Be it a sport or dart board or a song from Evita. Certain people or situations sometimes make controlling this inner monster more difficult. The last thing you want to do is call someone out who is on the verge of Latina Rage. Do you really want them to start screaming at you in the crowded room of people? I didn't think so. Above all though, I have learned to channel this inner Latina Rage into something constructive. Instead of just shouting, and arm-flailing, it helps me not be such a horrible pushover. It is in fact inner-strength and confidence. It overrules my otherwise shy abnegation to make sure that I am treated decently, or almost decently.
Yes, sometimes I let people get away with treating me badly. Especially when it is a murky situation. But, know that you are playing with fire if you think you can get away with it for long. It's only after so much that my inner Sanchez is awakened. So, don't come near me with your feet, spiders, contacts, or pickles of any kind, and treat me with the same respect you would your fellow human beings, and you won't have to meet my Grandma Castillo.
P.S. Just to make sure you don't think I am some scary, angry person all the time, here are some kittens on a slide:
