Dos Mujeres, Una Cocina | Two Women, One Kitchen

Her way is always better. She won’t say it, but I know that’s what my mother thinks every afternoon when she walks into my kitchen. And it’s implied in very subtle ways. The way my mother rearranges the tupperware in my cabinets or the food in the fridge. The way she scrunches her nose as she watches me cook. Or the way she scrutinizes my purchases, frowning at their prices. “It’s not that you cook good, you just buy expensive ingredients,” she’ll say.

My kitchen is the size of a small cell. Room enough for only two: one to cook, one to watch but always one of us in the other's way. 

When I was a girl my mother used to call me into the kitchen while she cooked, commanding me to pay attention. Even though the kitchen was big enough for the both of us, I'd still get in her way; usually handing her the wrong items and asking too many questions. After a few ay Dios mío's and coño's my cooking lesson was over and my mother would exile me to the living room.

Many years later, my mother and I are titans, both vying for power in la cocina. I look forward to cooking holiday meals, creating my own traditions. My kitchen has become a place of solace, a place to stand and clear my head while cooking for others.  But in a galley kitchen like mine, it's too easy for my mother and I to clash. While I cook my mother will tiptoe to lean over me and criticize my technique, “That’s not the way I do it.” 

My mother wields the pilón; I pump the mini chopper. My mother blends peppers red and green, cloves of garlic, bulbs of onions, recao, cilantro and olive oil to make a large batch of sofrito. It is the base of her every meal.  I cook with sofrito so rarely that when I need it, I buy the ingredients, chop everything up and sauté it into my meal.

I shop at Whole Foods or Trader Joe's; I buy organic. My mother shops where she has coupons, scouring the neighborhood for the best prices. She goes one place for milk, another for eggs, somewhere for meats and so on. My mother will never pay full price for anything if she knows she can get it on sale.

My mother cooks her specialty dishes with ease, never having to consult a book, eyeballing ingredients. I rely on Food Network, printed-out recipes and measuring spoons. My mother trusts her culinary instinct. Mine are still being cultivated.

I am the occasional cook, making elaborate meals for a holiday or celebration. My mother cooks every day; it’s a part of who she is. I realized this the day I invited my parents over for Christmas dinner. I was going to cook the signature Puerto Rican meal: pernil, arrroz con gandules, potato salad.  My mother said she would bring pasteles.

The thought reminds me of childhood; watching my mother at the kitchen table late on Saturday night. A large pot at the center, sheets of wax paper in front of her, a ball of white twine. Wrapping each pastel in parchment paper like a present; humming to herself or the phone nestled between her shoulder and ear, talking with my madrina  It is an all day/ all night affair, an offering. And the culinary commitment secures my mother’s place as the master. I am still the apprentice.

My mother's pasteles are perfection. The masa is firm, filled with flavorful meat and neatly wrapped with care. And when cooked, it slipped out of its wrapping in one piece.

I do not want anyone else’s recipe other than hers. I cannot wait for the day for her to come over and share her pasteles recipe and technique with me. No matter how big or how small my kitchen is - there will always be room for my mother to stand beside me.  

A Thanksgiving cheers with my mother | 2013

This is a revised version of my essay Clash of Las Cocinas originally published on Being Latino, December 2010. 

#L4LL “Día” Blog Hop Guest Writer F. Isabel Campoy, "Friendship"

In honor of Día de los Niños, Día de los Libros - the Latinas for Latina Literature are hosting a blog hop and special giveaway. I am thrilled to host F. Isabel Campoy - sharing a lesson she learned from a autistic boy named Kio. And a beautiful poem. Enjoy. 

I have the great privilege of knowing a genius. He lives in a different continent and I cannot communicate with him in his first language, but Kio opens the window of his mind in so many ways that I have learned to understand, admire, love and value, his unique take at life through his actions.

It is a challenge for me to catch up with his level of knowledge and understanding of his fields of interest, but that is precisely what attracts me to his personality.

Kio lives in Europe and by his ninth birthday he could translate, from English, complex manuals about how things work. English by the way, is his second language.

Kio’s parents are young professionals with demanding social and economical responsibilities and Kio’s personality has been a difficult path to understand, first, and a unique opportunity for them to venture into less traditional paths for parenting and organizing family life.

Through them I became interested in knowing more about what doctor’s called his “disorder” and I have read articles, blogs, and first person narratives of professionals and parents who are part of the “Autism Spectrum Experience.” Kio belongs to the group of children who live with Aspergers.

When I was invited to write for this blog I felt I couldn’t share any intelligent opinion, first-hand experience or interesting reading advice for the growing community of families who live the Autism culture on a daily basis. At first I wanted to learn facts, figures, everything available about the field but then I realized that my approach could only be the one of a friend, teacher, children’s author, who walks along with all the parents in this path of unknowns.

There is one thing though that I can do, and that is to help raise the awareness of this community wherever I go and whenever I am speaking to teachers, parents, and children. It takes a village, yes. It takes each and every one of us to create the paths of inclusion, to share spaces and activities, no matter how new those experiences are for all, to learn to understand silence, solitude, separation, in order to create new ways of communication, care, and camaraderie.

I have reached an age in which I finally understand how precious life is. I took it for granted for sixty years and now I cannot stop admiring our human capacity to adapt and to invent, to wander and wonder and to marvel at each new turn of any living creature.

My pen is my only weapon to conquer the minds of my readers. I put it here to the disposal of the cause for insatiable hope. And let us carry a book in our hands on the way THERE. Any kind of book, as Kio has taught me.

Here is to the celebration of books and children:

Día de los niños. Día de los libros

F. Isabel Campoy

Warning.

Open with care.

Laughter, fear, wonder,

forests, lions, monsters,

all hide between the covers of a book

ready to jump out and grab you

and lead you

down an endless trail of  mystery.

Get ready

to fly, to seize the power

hidden in a well-told tale.

Get ready to sail to the Moon

and back. To open the curtains wide

to a thousand stories,

dive deeply into the lives

of the wild and free.

Get ready to follow the footprints

of great adventurers

to look inside the hearts of heroes

to triumph over a zillion dangers

and end up as the hero

of your own epic tale.

Beware.

Proceed with caution.

Rich rewards await for those who dare.

F. ISABEL CAMPOY is the author of numerous children’s books in the areas of poetry, theatre, stories, biographies, and art. As a researcher she has published extensively bringing to the curriculum an awareness of the richness of the Hispanic culture. She is an educator specialized in the area of literacy and home school interaction, topics on which she lectures nationally. Her extensive writing, of over 150 titles, has been recognized with the Laureate Award from San Francisco Public Library, the Reading the World Award, the Junior Library Guild Award, among others. She is a member of the American Academy of Poets as well as of several organizations for the advancement of multicultural awareness and world peace.

*** 

The Giveaway

L4LL has put together a wonderful collection of Latino children’s literature to be given to a school or public library. Many of the books were donated by the authors and illustrators participating in this blog hop. You can read a complete list of titles (as well as the blog hop SCHEDULE) here on the L4LL website.

To enter your school library or local library in the giveaway, simply leave a comment below.

The deadline to enter is 11:59 EST, Monday, April 29th. The winner will be chosen using Random.org and announced on the L4LL website on April 30th, Día de los Niños, Día de los Libros, and will be contacted via email - so be sure to leave a valid email address in your comment! (If we have no way to contact you, we'll have to choose someone else!)

By entering this giveaway, you agree to the Official Sweepstakes Rules. No purchase required. Void where prohibited.

¡Buena suerte!

10 Things I've Learned About Blogging In The 2 Years I've Been Blogging

Today is my Blog Birthday! I'm 2 years old. This last year especially has been insane and looking back, I'm incredibly grateful for...everything.   

I've also learned a lot in these last two years and I needed to remind myself with this list:  

10. Don't share your blog with your school district and then trash talk about how your kid's school is failing to provide a FAPE. Because they will read it.  And they won't like it.  (I know...seems like a no brainer. But um, I learned the hard way.)

9. Be okay with random people knowing personal sh*t about you. And wanting to talk about it. Even if you think "I just want to write to get it out...there's no need to address it after." 

8. Blogging is hard work.  Seriously. And takes a lot of time. At times, an embarrassingly amount of time. And often without a big financial pay off.

7. Be 100% certain about a post before you hit the publish button. Once you publish something - it's out there. There is no going back to delete. By the time, you second guess yourself and try to hit delete - someone has seen it or taken a screen shot. Someone may have printed it out or cut/copy and pasted into an email or word document. When in doubt about a post - wait until you are absolutely certain you want those words out there. (see #10 & 9 if you're not sure what I mean.)

6. Don't quit your day job thinking blogging is the road to riches and free vacations. (see #8)

5. It's okay to say NO. Just because someone emails you saying they have this amazing product or book or website, you are not obligated to write about what they want you to write about. 

4. Don't take it personal.  There will be times when no one comments, it's okay. There will be times when people attack you.  My wise creative writing professor (Terrence Cheng) once said, "If you expect to be told what a great writer you are, each and every single you write something - go show it to your mother." The same can be said for blogging. If you are only interested in praise - write for your mother, your husband, your BFF or anyone else who loves you enough to lie to your face or blow smoke up your butt.   

3. Bloggers are people too. I've met some really amazing people through blogging. I'd even go as so far to say, I've made some genuine friends - especially in the autism mom blogger community. And then I've met some not so nice bloggers. And this may totally surprise you especially if you've follow their blogs and seem like the nicest person on line. But mostly, I am incredibly grateful for all the wonderful women and men I've met through blogging. Like I said, I've made some real friends - there are too many to name but they will know who they are - thank you for your friendship!

2. Content & Consistency matter.  If you want people to read your blog, your content needs to be good. And if you want them to return, you need to be consistent. Especially in the beginning.

1. Always remember the reason why you started to blog. You may want to write it down and post it everywhere you write because there will be days when you will wonder: I don't know if I want to do this. Does my writing even matter? or Why didn't this post get any comments?

There have been so many times over this last year I've wondered if my blog matters, if it's 'successful.' This usually occurs when I see little to no comments on something that I've written, when something I write doesn't get shared, tweeted or retweeted, when I visit other blogs and see that their posts have like 30, 40, 50 comments and I'm hoping for just 1. And every so often, I'll read a comment or get an email or even a text from another autism mom I know with a simple, "thank you for writing what I cannot say," and then I remember why I started to blog. If anything I've written has helped just one person, then that is my measure of success.

Thank you again for stopping by, for reading my random thoughts, for crying with me, for sharing my joys, for cheering me on, for offering me advice and for being a part of our journey. 

Did you know I'm nominated as a Yahoo Women Who Shine? 

Read why I'm nominated & vote click  HERE.

Why I Write

 

I think Toni Morrison puts it best.  Don't get me wrong, I have reasons of my own.  One day (soon) I'll tell you.  But for now?  This will do.

"You Have To Own It" ~ My Lesson Learned From #Hispz12

I've worked in Corporate America for more than a decade.  I've always been the minority.  The receptionist, the secretary - the person no one wants to hear from.  The person whose opinion does not matter.

And being a Creative Writing major in Graduate School?  I am still the minority.  Even though my school is in Harlem.  While I've been told my writing is good, I've heard how much harder it will be for me to get published - because I'm Latina.


And whenever I go into any kind of meeting for The Boy, I'm treated as if my thoughts regarding my own child mean nothing.


So it's easy to feel, well...?  As if no one is listening.  And that what I have to say - doesn't matter.  


I mean, this blog started out as a class assignment.  And out of 30 students in my class? Only 3 people read it - including my professor (he was grading me, after all).


So when I was invited to speak on a panel - Blogging for Cause - at Hispanicize 2012.  I was surprised.  Because...who the hell am I?  


I walked into the JW Marriot, not knowing a single person in real life - not even my roommate.


It was overwhelming those first few hours.  A whirlwind of fabulous Latino bloggers,  journalists, philanthropists, film makers, writers, celebrities, media folks - all jam packed into one place.  I don't think I've ever been in a room with so many influential Latinos.  It was truly inspiring. 


And then there was me?  And I thought to myself, "I have no business being here."


I'm not a professional.  I don't get paid for writing this.  It's just something I do, because I like to write.  It's a distraction for many things.  And since I don't have the time or the energy to focus on writing fiction - this blog, keeps me writing.  


I know why this blog is important to me.  But I never considered it to be important to anyone else.  


Sure there were bloggers that I had established an on line relationship but I can be painfully shy.  I'm not the kind of person to walk up to a stranger and say "Hi!  My name is...blah blah blah."  No matter how many comments we've exchanged on line.  And I could quite easily hold up a wall.


So when I started to mingle and introduce myself, I was hesitant.  Assuming that no one in that room had ever even heard of me and my little blog.   


Obviously, it's a great big blogosphere, so there were people who did not know me.  But they were interested in talking to me.


Then there were the ones who knew of me.  Like Angelica, Bren, Eva and Aurelia - who greeted me with open arms, telling me how happy they were to meet me.  And in my head I'm all like, "Seriously?  Me?" 


And then I met a mom blogger (I'm not tagging her because I don't think she writes publicly about her son) who cried when she met me.  We hugged and cried for a good ten minutes.  Then I met another mom blogger (again, not tagging because I don't believe she writes about her son) who said "Had it not been for your blog, I would have never known what to look for."  I don't even have the words to say how moved I was by these two women and listening to them speak about their children.  And there were a few more mom bloggers who had children on the spectrum, who I connected with.


Even after all this, I still had that feeling of not belonging.  


And then on the second day, after lunch a few us were sitting around chatting with Piera aka Jolly Mom.  We had attended her session earlier in the day and were picking her brain.  I expressed some of my insecurity.  And she said five words I'll never forget:  You have to own it.


I knew she was right.  I don't own what I do.  Don't get me wrong, I believe in what I'm writing.  And I believe that my writing is good.  But I am too quick to dismiss it.  I am too quick to think that I don't have a place within the blogosphere.  And I've been suppressed for so long in other aspects of my life, I find it hard to believe that my voice matters.  


My three days at Hispanicize, I learned that it does.  


I want The Boy to believe in himself and take pride in the things he does well.  I want him to be confident and know that he has a place in this world.  I want him to own whatever it is that he does.  


How can I expect these things from The Boy when I have such a hard time expecting it of myself?   


I have to look in the mirror and raise my own expectations.  I have to get out of my own way.  I have to assure myself that my voice matters.  That this blog matters.  And I have to own it.