Identity

"My looks do not define me."

I am a thirty year old woman living in Los Angeles, California. I was raised in the city of

Inglewood. Born in the city of Mexico back in the late seventies. I came to the United States at a

young age. My parents brought me here because of a disability that I have called Polio. The

doctors in Mexico suggested to my parents that it would be best to come to the U.S. to be

seen by a specialist. I am aware that I am disabled, but not incapable. I pretty much do any-

thing and everything any other human being on this earth can do. I definitely do not limit

myself to anything. I live my life to the fullest and I'm extremely outgoing and enjoy my life.

Back when I was five years old I went to a special school in Los Angeles for children with dis-

abilities. I felt out of place a lot of the times because I never really felt like I was diabled. I

always felt like I wasn't any different than other people. Growing up in a home where most

of the time my parents were at work me and my brothers and sisters raised by my two oldest

sisters. I come from a big family it's eleven of us to be exact. Six brothers and four sisters.

My parents never treated me any different. I always felt equal to my brothers and sisters.

Till this day none of them treat me any different.

I attended a regular school called Woodworth Elementary in Inglewood. It was a bit different.

There the kids did look and treat me different. They would always ask me, "What happened to

your leg?" I would never tell them what had happened to my leg my response would always be,

"None of your business." I stuck to that response until I entered junior high. Junior high was

different. I guess the kids there were afraid to ask me what had happened to me because one of

my brothers who was a well known gang banger went to school there with me. He had a lot of

friends there who became my firends. So it was easier for me. I would never worry about kids

asking me unnecessary questions. I just smooth sailed right out of middle school.

When I entered high school I was excited new school, new kids, new teachers new enviro-

nment. I was really bad in school I began skipping school to go to ditching parties. If i did go to

class I was never on time, never had my homework, never really cared about participating in

any class activities. In my sophomore year I got expelled because of my truancies. My parents

were really disappointed. After that we moved to the city of Hawthorne. There my mother

enrolled me in a high school named Leuzinger. Again there I had to adapt to the whole new

concept of the new school, the new kids, the new teachers. The whole I got to get to know new

people type of thing. I was very nervous. I didn't know what to expect. I had always attended

the Inglewood school district so most of the people I went to elementary with were the same

people I went to junior high and high school with. When I enrolled I was told that I had to repeat

my sophomore year again because I didn't have the credits needed to be placed in the eleventh

grade. I was upset, but I had no choice. I remember the first day it was like walking into the first

grade all over again. The kids were just staring at me. After a few weeks I was more at ease. My

nerves had completely gone away. I was back to being me. Relaxed making friends left and right.

I dropped out of high school in the middle of my junior year. I really didn't have a good reason I

just lost interest. I tried to go back many times, but I just didn't find the motivation to continue.

A year later my father died. He died of cancer. I was seventeen years old. My father had been

illed for a long time. Cancer took over his body really bad six months before his death. A week

before he died he was transferred to a convalescent home. Where my mother spent most of her

days with him. We took turns to watch over him so my mother could come home and rest a

while, shower, and go back to take care of my father. The day of my fathers death it was me and

one of my sister's turn to go watch him while my mother came home to rest a bit. My mother

called and told us to get all of our family together and go to the hospital because my father was

dying. We arrived at the hospital at about eight o'clock at night. My father died at 10:40 p.m. on

July 14, 1994. It was hard on me specially to see my mother cry. We all gathered around my

mother who sat next to my father's bed side. We cried and said our goodbyes. After my father's

death I became a different person. Stronger. Understanding. Thought twice about the way I

looked at life. I couldn't bare to see my mother falling apart. I became more indepent. My

mother took me to apply for disability benefits. I was approved so I would help my mother with

rent when rent was due. I would try and take care of myself finacially with what was left from

my check. I learned that life wasn't easy when only one parent has to keep taking care of a home

with five kids. It was hard to move on, but that's life and it continues whether we like it or not.

At age eighteen I started to accept who I really am. I knew that I was born a lesbian, but I

had never told or mentioned it to anyone. I remeber once in high shcool my friend had told me

that one her guy friends had asked her if I was her girlfriend. It came to a surprise to me

because like I said I had never mentioned to anyone how I felt about women. My friend and I

laughed about it and never again touched the subject.

When I turned nineteen I came out to my mother and told her I was going to move out with

my girlfriend. My mother hated her. Maybe because I had never told my mother about my

sexuality until I told her I was going to move out. I am still with the same girl till this day.

My mother didn't talk to her at all for the first six years of our relationship. Now they are really

good friends and that really makes me happy. I never thought the day would come when my

mother would accept my relationship with a woman.

I am now soon to be thirty-one in June. I recently became a citizen of the United States in

April of 2008 after being a resident for twenty-seven years. I am attending Los Angeles Trade

Tech Community College working hard hoping for a better future. People might look at me

different because of the way I look. Because of my disability I am forced to walk using a single

crutch and a brace on my left leg, but my looks do not define me. It's my persona, the woman

who I became, the woman who I have accepted, the woman who I am now. Me.