Sandra Cisneros - Blog Posts

The woman you are becoming will cost you people, relationships, spaces, and material things. Choose her over everything.

The House on Mango Street was the first book that put what I wanted when I grew up into words. I hyperfixated on the shoes especially. They symbolize Esperanza's sexuality, and then her inner conflict between that sexuality and her desire for independence. I had similar struggles, particularly when I was 15. Quinces are a huge event in a Cuban girls life. Everyone in the extended family comes to ogle at the garish decorations while talking smack about the girl's dress and body in between bites of ropa vieja and croquetas. At the end, they exchange the little girl shoes she has for a high heel. Symbolizing her "ascension" into womanhood. This terrified me. I was still growing into my body. My feet still clumsy and my hands too small to hold onto to the ridiculous bouffant skirt of the dress which would inevitably lead me to trip even more in front of judging relatives. More than anything, I wasn't ready to be a woman, even symbolically. The questions of when I would get married, have children, would increase in their seriousness as they did for my first cousin. Under this pressure, she then had her baby at 17 with a man who constantly cheats on her to this day. They will tell me to go to university so I can find an educated man. Not to worry about about an education from myself. That I already study/read too much and men don't want overly smart women. This was the picture I had of "becoming a woman" since I transitioned from baby to child shoes. I told everyone the Christmas before my Quince in September that I would not be having one. The adults laughed and my cousins jeered at me at the kids table thinking I was loca and "antisocial". My mother, told me it would be my choice, but that the family would like to join me in this joyous occasion. I was shaking beneath their eyes, but again I said I did not want one. As September drew closer, the questions for when the invites were going out started to grow numerous. I again told them I would not be doing a quince. My aunt cried and called me selfish. That she never had a daughter, only sons, and she wanted to help me plan it. For the first time in my 15 years, I refused to give in. No amount of crocodile tears would get me to budge. I'm glad I did. It was the first step in MY path to becoming a woman. No high heels needed. Now, I keep my heelless "child shoes" near my bed in my own apartment where I live alone with my dog. Comfortable and free.

YOU decide what it means to be woman. Do not let anyone and their outdated traditions tell you what to do.