What to gossip about me next

So here I am in Rio de Janeiro, the city where I was born and spent 30 years of my life. Here live my childhood friends, my parents, my beach and some memories I still carry with me.

I find it interesting that as I bump into these people on the streets, I notice they are curious… what have I been up to? Do I have enough money? How’s my marriage?

I try not to concern myself with their opinions of me as I walk my familiar neighborhood streets.

My favorite memory goes back to my childhood. I was around 5 years old and we lived walking distance from the beach, where I used to spend all my mornings before it was time to get ready for school.

Back then, Rio was safe, clean and a very friendly place to live or visit. I still feel the sun embracing my body, the waves licking my toes, and the taste of ice cream bars melting in my mouth. Life was beautiful then. I truly miss being a wild child challenging nature, the waves; chasing the birds as the hot summer sand burned my feet.

Back then, socializing was easy. My mom played a strong role in my socialization skills.

“Sweetie, do you like that little girl over there playing with the pink surfboard?” she asked.

“Yeah”

“Hey, little girl!” Mom called out to her. “Would you like to have a playdate with my daughter?”

My Jewish momma solved it all!

The years have passed and I have developed strong bonds with my friends. I knew them before I knew myself as a person. Although Rio de Janeiro seems to be a big city, I always had the feeling I knew everyone. I knew kids from most schools in the city, and we would socialize at the bus, the beach, the parks and later, the bars.

Growing up in Rio also gave me the advantage of belonging to a family very well known in social circles, and while that would make my life easier in many ways it would also expose me to criticism and gossip.

The decision to move to the U.S. was not an easy one. I needed to leave behind everything -life as I knew it- and face a new world where nobody knew who I was or where I came from.

My mother used to say her daughters had wings instead of arms and I think I have both. Flying was in my genes and I needed to see the world. While I needed my wings to fly I used my arms to embrace my new life. New friends. The unknown.

Being an immigrant is difficult. While I moved into a privileged circumstance because I had a visa, a home, and a job, life in the U.S. was far from the “American Dream” I once envisioned.

My husband and I were trying to balance two broken families together, and we were not even close to becoming the Brady Bunch. The kids were upset, nobody was ready to be a step-parent and no children were ready to survive a divorce.

That said, we lived in an upscale suburban area in NYC where we quickly became the topic of more gossip. I learned then, that the real bullies were the parents and that the children learned from them.

I have an interesting story that, I think, shows a lot of what I mean by that. My youngest daughter used to go to a public school in Scarsdale, an exclusive suburb in NYC. Her best friend was the daughter of the school PTA president.

Well, if you follow my blog, you must have heard of Julia, our little troublemaker. So, she was in 3rd grade and her friend started to bug her by asking if she wanted to date a boy from their class. Julia immediately said no, but her friend insisted. Finally she confronted her.

“I’m gay,” she said.

That was it. I heard no word from the parent anymore. Julia was forbidden to even say hello to the kid and other parents joined too.

In a world where we fight for tolerance, I found out that some people are hypocrites and this affects their children.

Julia is not actually gay, she was just being provocative. But what if she was? How would she be treated? And could I protect her from the intolerance of our society?

Being an immigrant was not easy either. My son was called “dumb latino” by his classmates many times in high school, despite being on the school honors roll since first grade.

However hard it was, moving also opened doors for me to see the world. I saw people from many different places, religions, beliefs, identities. I thank New York for this. We live in an incredibly cosmopolitan city. My kids grew up learning to accept different cultures and traditions as their friends were from all over the world. They celebrated Diwali, Rosh Hashanah, Christmas, Ramadan and so many other holidays.

They grew culturally rich, not only for being exposed to new cultures, but the whole cultural life in NY. Their school trips took them to museums, shows, orchestras and prepared them to appreciate different cultures.

So here I am back in Rio encountering some people I haven’t seen in decades.

When you experience the world in so many different ways, you grow. Your perspective, interests, and life become very different from what you once knew.

Just as the parents in Scarsdale would judge us and our family by how different we were from their standards, the people I met in Rio look at me a little differently now. They did not change that much.

Their conversations still surround other people; who has money, who doesn’t, who has this or that. I realized later, that when you leave your comfort zone and are able to experience the world, you grow. You are able to step out from your family heritage and neurosis and find out who you really are. Separating is painful, but sometimes necessary.

So to my friends that stayed behind, know that I love you. I encourage you to challenge your comfort zones, get out of your shell, visit new places, try new foods, meet new people, find something you love.

And if you’re wondering what to gossip about me next…

Please read my blog. It’s all here!

Xoxo

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