Monday, December 16, 2013

A Tale of Two Cultures

I was born in Esteli, Nicaragua. I moved to the United States at the age of six. As a result, I grew up immersed in two different cultures - the mainstream culture of the United States and my Latin American culture.



In school, we spoke English, at home we spoke Spanish. In School we ate foods that did not include rice and beans as part of our daily serving, while at home, we rarely consumed food that did not include either rice or beans (or both). Perhaps what became very evident during my upbringing was the contrast between the level of participation in sports between my Latin American culture and that of the United States. I'm sure there were/are a significant amount of factors in my household (and culture) that placed participating in sports at the bottom of the totem pole. We had one car for a household that included six children and four adults. There just wasn't enough man power to drive anyone around to various games. There also wasn't money to pay for athletic apparel or uniforms. Furthermore, the last thing my mother wanted to do was attend a game after standing for eight long hours in a chicken factory removing bones from chicken breast and thighs. In my Latin American culture, participating in organized sports was something that just wasn't the norm for the average person - especially if you were a female.

When we had the privilege of owning a Nintendo, my mother found the entertainment system a nuisance because it ran up the electricity. Never were we told to go outside and play. In fact, I was the first female in my household that learned to ride a bike and learned how to swim (both my grandmother and mother did not know how to ride bikes or swim).



There are many times in my life when I look back at my high school years and wished I would have had enough self-confidence to try out for track and field, or soccer. It wasn't until I joined the Marine Corps at the age of 21 that I realized I would have really enjoyed partaking in organized sports. At times, I have a bit of resentment at my family's ignorant ways (and I say that with sadness and resignation). While I am intellectually aware of the fact that in no way shape or form was my family trying to impede me from being the best I could as evidenced by our move to this great nation we call America, there is a part of me that wished they would have encouraged me to try out for something. When running became a staple in my life, the response I received was tepid. My grandmother thought it was not good for me because it would make me skinnier and therefore I would be extremely unhealthy.


As a mother of two daughters, I want for my daughters to understand that working out is part of the norm in our household. My older daughter seems to have little interest in sports, but I still encourage her to at least give herself an opportunity to experience what it feels like to be a part of a team. I don't want to impose my childhood desires on her (alright, sometimes I do, but I'm not perfect), but I also don't want for her to ever say that I did not encourage her to try something new and discover whether she may actually enjoy it.

Sometimes late at night (like tonight), I lay and wonder how my life would have been different had I been more involved in sports. All the thinking makes my brain hurt, but at the end of the day, the only thing different would have been the replacement of my feelings of resentment for feelings that just don't exist. Perhaps those feelings of resentment have fueled my passion for running and furthered my desires to challenge myself physically and mentally. It has taken away my fears and replaced them with passion and determination. I am less afraid of failing now than I was during the years in which we believe we are invincible. Perhaps I may have had a late start in the field of running, but I've always seen the importance of challenging oneself, being a team player, and understanding that if you want to savor the flavor of success, you've got to put some sweat equity and earn it.

Do you have anything you resent from your childhood? How has it fueled your goals in life?

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