When I was 10, I attended my cousin’s quince in Villa Guerrero, Mexico. Months of preparation for a full day event filled with tradition and expectation. It was the highlight of the town for months. Having grown up in the United States as a Mexican American, I existed culturally but was universally divided. I spoke the language, looked like the people, and ate the same food… even so I was the outsider. 

The issue began with my hair. My aunt, a hairdresser, insisted on having every one of nieces looking perfect, from the dress, to the shoes and hair. Me, a chubby, dark skinned, short hair girl felt so out of place. What were you supposed to do with a bob, I thought to myself. I sat still until my aunt finished whatever she was doing, “Asi te miras bonita.” Like that you look beautiful, she said, I couldn’t tell her I felt uncomfortable and in turn I gave her a smile. 

The church ceremony, the setting stone for the whole day. Goodness, was it something, I knew my extended family was Catholic but I wasn’t. My father had told me and my siblings earlier we didn’t have to attend the church ceremony, I insisted on it. Sitting down on the brown stained benches, silently questioning everything. Why don’t we christians do this? Why is the Catholic church so pretty compared to mine? Why is everyone getting up to eat a piece of cracker and to drink juice? Why can’t I do it? I stayed silent.  

Towards the end of the mass, my cousin had fainted. The guest gasped worried, I must admit I was too. Later, I find out that my cousin was forced to starve herself to fit in the dress, a cruel thing, a cruel thing for beauty. All these standards to be a woman, a beautiful woman. 

Later during the quincera party, I overheard many elderly women speaking, “Esta muy bonita”. She was very pretty, I heard someone speak. “Tiene piel blanquita, no como sus primas” She has pale skin unlike her cousins. “Esta embarazada o porque se demayo?” Is she pregnant or why did she faint? The anger bubbled in my chest, why are they speaking about a younger girl, why conform to the so called standard of beauty and expectations?