I am a woman.

Yes, I might look white, but I am latina too.

I’m a short woman with a strong character, like if that were a bad or wrong attribute.

I have curves, and I felt observed more times than I dare to say, not, sorry, not observed…but stared at, eaten alive with the eyes, made felt uncomfortable and afraid of those eyes. I have been touched without permission by strange and disgusting hands, sometimes between laughs and parties, and other times in lonely roads.

I may have an hetero relationship, but that does not mean I haven’t questioned my sexuality, even experienced with it. That does not define me. That doesn’t mean I’m not affected by society, by the expectations and by everybody who feels entitled enough to judge me. That doesn’t mean that I play the loving, caring and defenseless woman’s role, that doesn’t mean I am fulfilled, that I’m happy.

I loooove dancing, and might have played with barbies too, sometimes. But I also played with legos and raced cars, and rode a bike and loved roller skating and jumping and running and falling and being dirty.

I suck at sports, but I am great at computers, yeah I’m a geek. I like reading, love it actually, novels and essays, but also philosophy and deep bullshit stuff. I’m way above the average at logic, quite good to be honest, although my imposter syndrome (what a surprise!) continues telling me the opposite.

I was good looking (as if that could be a thing, but I was, according to patriarchy rules). I flirted and used high heels (regretted still a bit thou). I wore makeup and shaved my legs, but I was never 100% completely truly to myself. I prefer comfy clothes, sneakers and jeans, I love them actually. And I also wore them, I dressed (almost) however I wanted to. Pink, black, purple, white, red, gray, green, brown,.. and all over again.

I loved, I broke hearts, I got mine smashed. I cheated (not proud of that) and, of course, got cheated on. I betrayed and was betrayed. I cried, I screamed, I laughed and enjoyed, I moaned of pleasure and caused pleasure. I enjoyed my sex, I pleasured me. I learnt.

I am a woman, and sometimes I am feminine. But I am a scientist, a masculine one. I am a girl trying to survive in a male dominated area, trying to be heard, respected and valued (as if). I fought and failed many, many uncountable times, and I also succeeded some others. 

I did not dress nice, not care for my hair and body, not payed attention to what society asked me to be. I struggled to be me, to be free and still to be a woman, not by choice but because of chances. Because I was just born that way... with these chromosomes, these hormones, these organs, a vulva, and the theoretical capability of producing life. I didn’t ask for it, neither my mom nor my grandma, but we still got it that way.  And because of THAT, we were... we still are oppressed.