Friday, October 11, 1996
GENDER:
Culture dictates roles but one can mix old-time virtue with
modern feminism
Many things were decided for me at birth. The most influential
of these was what type of woman I would be. As a Mexican woman
 Mexican by birth, regardless of my U.S. citizenship Â
there were basically two choices for me. I could be the woman that
(Mexican) men marry, or the woman that (Mexican) men sleep
with.
My parents chose the former.
Case closed.
Confession:
At 22 years old, I am a virgin. Yes, you read right. A
virgin.
People often ask, "Are you religious?" when they find out. No. I
went to Catholic school for 12 years, but I’m not especially
religious. It isn’t a fear of hell or sin that has kept me a
virgin. It’s other things.
Theory:
As I said before, there are only two choices within the Mexican
culture  the virgin or the whore. Women are raised to be one
or the other. Or rather, forced to be one and guarded against being
the other. This has been a central point in forming my gender
identity  deciding what type of woman I want to be.
Becoming a Mexican woman:
My parents did a lot to ensure that I would become, and would
remain, the woman that men marry, una mujer decente. They had me
under tight control. They raised me as a staunch Catholic. I was
taught to follow the Mexican code for female behavior and gender
roles, Marianismo. My parents preached its virtues, referring to
them as morales.
I was sent to an all-girls Catholic high school. The only boys
school I could associate with was my male relatives’ alma mater,
the one where my cousin Memo taught history. The only dances I
could go to were at this school and even then, I could attend only
when Memo was chaperoning. He later became Dean of Discipline,
which did wonders for my social life.
My parents had me covered on all sides. No sleepovers, no mall
trips. I couldn’t even go to the library. My friends used to say
that my curfew was when the street lights came on. All this to
ensure that I remained a decent woman; to save me, lock me up in an
ivory tower for the man I would eventually marry.
Virgins:
One of the models of feminine purity and decency I look to is my
grandmother, Maria De La Luz, an old-style Mexican Lady if ever
there was one. A virgin until her wedding night, my grandmother
bore ten children and buried two. She survived the Cristero
rebellion, world-wide depression, World War II and immigration to
the U.S. She was married for over fifty years to my grandfather and
was at his side when he died. She still wears black on special
occasions.
This is the type of woman I was raised to be. One who follows
the example of the Virgen de Guadalupe.
I was taught to be proud, decent, obedient and docile. Gentle. A
virgin on my wedding night, a good wife and one who would hold her
husband’s hand on his death bed. I was raised to be a Mexican
Woman, a Mexican Lady.
If you are a virgin, a mujer decente, you are promised all sorts
of rewards. A good marriage, honorable children, social approval
and a loving husband who won’t cheat on you.
Whores:
But if you are a bad girl, a disobedient daughter, a loose
woman, a slut, a whore  well then … you get something
different. You lose your family’s approval. Society looks down on
you. Men use you for your body because they know who and what you
are. They beat you, distrust you, leave you. You are used,
discarded.
What are you anyway but some cheap piruja, callejara,
prostituta? You are devalued, you can never be married. Your
children  shamed.
Commentary:
Oh, I know the system is fucked up. I know that it allows for a
sexual double standard. One that allows my 17-year-old brother to
stay out until 2 a.m. while I, a 22-year-old woman in college, have
to ask for permission to go to the movies or beg to stay out half
an hour past midnight. This creates a system which requires men to
prove their masculinity through sexual conquest while warning women
to beware the conquerors.
And it hurts in other ways too. It gives men power. Sexual
power. Sexual freedom. It takes away ownership of our bodies Â
my body  and puts it into the hands of our fathers, our
brothers and our husbands.
It makes our worth  my worth  dependent upon whether
or not a hymen is broken. It makes rape and molestation more
powerful. More shameful. Because something else is taken away.
Self-worth, pride and that damned purity that is so prized within
the Mexican culture.
I’m not saying that I agree with the dichotomy I have just
presented.
I’m just explaining what I have to live with and the rules that
my society holds me to. The voices that go through my head when I’m
held, when I’m in love, when I’m about to enter a relationship.
With all this pressure and all these issues centered between my
legs, is it any wonder that I’m still a virgin?
Losing my virginity would not be just some rite of passage into
adulthood. This decision is closely tied to what type of woman I
choose to be. It is this inability for me to separate virginity,
being a Lady and being a decent woman which is the focus of
deciding who I will be.
Conclusion:
So you are wondering: do I plan to stay a virgin until my
wedding night? I’m not sure. But at this point, it would be like
quitting the marathon when I’m in sight of the finish line.
And honestly, in spite of all the cultural bullshit and the
Catholic religion, one of the main reasons that I’ve waited this
long is because  in the deepest part of my soul  I want
to be able to look at one man and say, "You are not only the first,
but you are the last and the only man that I will ever be with."
Because this is a part of how I define true love.
Am I a Mexican Woman, a Mexican Lady? I hope so.
I pray to God that I am, because I want to be one.
I know that no matter how the world, or my culture, or my family
change, no matter how limiting these gender expectations may be, I
want to be a Mexican Woman, a Mexican Lady.
But I have expanded my definition of what it means to be a
Mexican woman. I refuse to be passive or docile, because to be a
Mexican woman means to be STRONG. Strong like my grandmother,
strong like my mother, strong like the Virgen de Guadalupe is
strong.
I will not be silent in the face of injustice or betrayal. I
will not accept a husband who cheats on me or a friend who betrays
me. I will not put up with your shit.
Virginity does not mean frigidity. I own my body. I do. The
decision to remain a virgin was not mine  it was my parents.
But from the moment I left home until now, it has been mine. My
decision, my body and my choice  not Catholicism’s, not my
parents’ and not for lack of opportunity.
I am a Mexican woman, and that means passion. And that means
fire. You cannot control me. You will not control me. I am a virgin
because I choose to be so, because I make it so. And yet, I retain
those aspects which I see are good, which make a Mexican Woman.
Tenderness and compassion do not negate strength or power.
Virginity does not negate passion.
I want to be the wife who wakes up with her husband and makes
sure he eats breakfast and takes a lunch. Because that is part of
my definition of what a good wife should be. I want to sing to my
children and cuddle and pray with them in Spanish. I want to be a
gentle mother. Because that is a part of my definition of what a
good mother is.
But I will not teach my daughter passivity. I will not teach her
submission. I will teach her strength. I will teach her compassion.
I will teach her to be a Mexican woman like those who came before
her.
And I know that when the time comes, when life is in its final
chapters, I will sit at my husband’s bedside and look back on
50-odd years (God-willing), and look back on good times and bad,
and hold his hand … as he drifts away. And I will wear black at
the funeral, and I will hold my head up high at the Rosary, and I
will lead the nine days Novena, and I will serve pan dulce and
canela. And I will be a Mexican woman because that is what I was
born and that is how I plan to stay.
Noémi Guzmán Espinoza Ramos Rodriguez Peréz
Carrillo is her mother’s daughter and is a fifth-year student.