As I search for the true meaning of life and relationships in this millennial world; I have done the whole novel themed life. I have worked for pennies, I have had many heartbreaks, and I also met a prince..

Once Upon a Real Life Spanish Novela

 January 2015

I was living with my sister and I was just recovering from a severe blood loss due to a hormonal imbalance (see “When There is no one but Each Other” for background story). Being responsible for a teenager was not easy. Alicia has always been just like all the women in the family; stubborn, free-willed, and very brave. She was in 12 grade now and I had just graduated from high school. Okay…. I know you are confused by now but I am going to explain….

I had finished high school in Cuba but when I came to Canada I had to start from grade 10 up until grade 13, why? Because that is how the system works around these parts.

Back to the story…

I was trying applying to OSAP (a government loan for students that are residents of Ontario) but I was told I had to wait two years to be able to apply for it, since I was legally under my parents economical responsibility.

Okay, let me pause for a second…

I must admit I wish I had been under my parents care, though I wasn’t the government assumes that every family is the same and puts every student under the same stereotypical microscope.

As I was waiting for two long years I started to work at a grocery store with my sister. Working at Metro gave us some kind of independence. We were sort of able to pay for living expenses but the pay was minimum wage and I found myself working full time for $400 a month. We worked there up until the summer which was when my two years wait had come to an end. Alicia and I decided to move apart since our coexistence was no the healthiest. I moved to North Etobicoke; the neighbourhood my College was located and to which I had applied the past June for the ECE program and I was accepted. The plan was to find a room close to school in time for my freshman year starting in September. OSAP sent me a letter just before school started, saying my application had been refused due to my bad credit. K comes along.

The Heartbreak

September 2016

K was tall and very handsome. He had short curls that covered his face sometimes. He was smart and was always the leader of every social event. He had moved from British Columbia where he was born and raised. At first we became friends because neither of us had any friends in the area. We then discovered that we both enjoyed videogames and enjoyed talking about geeky stuff. I was one night on the phone with a guy I was dating and out of nowhere he said he no longer wanted to be with me. K was right across from my room and he could hear me from his room. I hang up and took a sleeping pill; I knew I was not going to be able to sleep that night on my own. That’s when K knocked on the door and asked me if I was fine. I had been crying and he was someone I trusted. We talked and it was getting late. K suggested we kept talking in his room because our roommates were sleeping. I did not think anything of it, I naively thought he was being a good friend. As we kept on talking the sleeping pill kicked in and I was rocking myself side to side when K told me that it was okay to just lay with him. I did, and we both fell asleep. After this we began a romantic relationship which ended in him telling me that he was not interested in girls that did not own a car nor had a high income. At that point I knew he was a social climber, but I had fallen in love and he knew it, I told him. He meets a girl almost a year after we meet. He starts to date her and leves me behind. After K I was so heartbroken I started to believe I was not good enough and that I had to find a better paying job and eventually buy a car to be worthy of love. F that!

September 2017

I start a new job at a restaurant as a food runner. My life had made a one hundred and eighty degree upgrade. I meet cool people and had men to choose from left and right. I was still not ready for love but opened a dating app profile in November to see if I got lucky with a good man. As I become a server at a family owned restaurant I see Gram while sweeping on my dating app. His blue eyes catch my attention and I said hi. He replied almost right away, something magical had started.

December 2017

Gram and I had been talking every day for about a week when we decided to schedule a date at an Italian infused Greek restaurant. Since this is not your typical story Gram is the one who made an entrance. He was not dressed fancy, in fact, he was wearing a hoodie with a button up shirt underneath. His hair was short pulled to the side exposing his fine features. His bright piercing blue eyes called my attention right away and he was the most respectful man I’ve ever had contact with. I had ordered wine and he ordered wine and so did him. I must reveal that Gram is a beer drinker, he had wine out of his marvelous spontaneity skills. Maybe his nerves and his pleasing personality made him decide I was going to order for the both of us… for the rest of our lives. We walked through St Clair West Village after a delicious Italian dark chocolate dessert which we shared, we walked for about an hour and then he dropped me off at work. We did not kiss. Our next date was right after Christmas, I had bought a ticket to Ottawa to see my cousins and spend the holidays with them. Once I was back we decided to go on a second date. Gram as the great bass player he is invited me to a gig and I invited my former best friend, her brother and my sister. We had a great night and on the first of January Gram and I went to another of his gigs and that’s when the first kiss took place. From that moment on we’ve been together. We’ve travelled, laughed and gone through many adventures together. We went to St John NB and he met my father and months after we went to Cuba. My mom adored him and can’t stop talking about how beautiful her grandchildren will be. Right after we came back from Cuba we got out beautiful puppy, Otis. The arrival of Otis to our lives made us realize we wanted to spend the rest of our lives together, that we are a great team and most importantly of all, that we have a family that supports our love and considers us a member of each family. Meeting Gram made me realize I did not need to be rich to find love, that all I needed was someone that loves me just the way I am. Someone that takes care of me and I take care of. Someone that shares his dreams, his worries and his goals with me. That fantasizes about houses and children and includes me in that fantasy. This is my happy ending story. A story that carries heartbreaks and disappointments but it’s also a story about true love. I feel lucky and very blessed to have found someone that doesn’t call me his but a part of him.

WARNING: The content of this blog may be triggering and some viewers might find it offensive. This blog contains a descriptive true story of sexual assault. Viewer discretion is advised.

Why I’m sharing this part of my life.

In Cuba one in every one  and a half women are sexually abused at some point in their lives, one of them was me.  What I want to create through this shared horrible experience is not hate, but comprehension and to create a safe space for my readers to feel safe and understood.

Throughout time sexuality in women has had a taboo that allows abusers to rape, murder and kill women all over the world. Cat calling, slapping buttocks, hitting, stabbing, and killing is normalized in most third world countries because men are considered to be better, period. In first world countries 80% of women have been sexually assaulted or sexually harassed. In small groups this topic is still marginalized and seen as something we should not talk about to protect our integrity as women, F that! Today I’m giving the middle finger to this mentality and the marginalization against this topic. I no longer fear society and its dismissive behavior towards truth only when it comes to women. This story is not for me, it’s for you. 

THIS IS MY BOLD STATEMENT. 

Once Upon A Nightmare…

 

Santiago de Cuba, Cuba. 2009

I was 16 when it happened the first time. To be honest it might have happened more often. I sometimes think about it but I don’t cry, or resent anyone. Somehow I did get myself in these situations.

I got a call from one of my best friends; I had 4 at the time. The youngest one, (I’ll call her L to protect he identity) called me on a Saturday to tell me that she needed a third wheel.  She was at the time dating a guy much older than her and her parents did not agree with the relationship until later on. I was a wild child, I must admit, I gave my mom headaches just because I was born as the living reincarnation of resilience. What I did do is tell my mom everything I was up to except for that day.

L wanted to go down to a river called San Juan that was about an hour walk from home. We really didn’t have transportation to go to remote places and it was very common for us to walk miles to get to our destination. L and I go down to her boyfriend’s neighborhood which was not far from ours, maybe 15 minutes walk. When we get there we realize that her boyfriend has brought with him a friend. I did not think anything of it because being a third wheel sucked and we all know it. I thought it might not be so bad since there was someone else I could talk to.

On the way to the San Juan River this man who’s name I do not remember insinuated that he wanted something romantic with me and I refused. At the time I was dating my first official boyfriend and was very much in love. Adding to the fact that I found this 20 something year old man repulsive, I repeatedly told him that I was not interested. Once we got to the river L and her boyfriend decided to go to a private place, leaving me with this man alone. I took my t-shirt off and kept my shorts and my bikini top. I told L I was not comfortable with the idea of staying alone, they left anyways.

 The River

It was a magical river; I can tell you many stories that happened before and after this event and they where glorious and fun. San Juan was not like one of those rivers and lakes that are showcased all over the media. It was big, yes it was. One of the biggest rivers in Cuba. The part of the river that we frequently visited was very rocky and it had huge rocks surrounding it, making the current through it very strong when it was high tide.  That day the water was very high and this man and I tried to stay at the shore. As time passed by and L and her boyfriend were not coming back he sexually harassed me. He started to insinuate that I wanted him to beg him to have sex with him, that I was just “playing hard to get”. I told him that I was not interested and that I already had a boyfriend. He ignored what I had told him and grabbed me by my arms. At this point he was very close, right in front of me breathing the same air I was breathing. As I tried to let go he grabbed me by my waist, my 16 year old waist. He tried to force my shorts down and I kept on telling him that I wanted to go home and was going to scream.

The river was surrounded by thick vegetation and it was far from civilization. L and her boyfriend had gone so far they couldn’t hear me scream. He forced me against a huge rock right in the middle of the river. At this point I was standing towards the current and this man was standing against it. He forced my shorts down to my knees and started to kiss me aggressively. I kicked him and punched him and yell loud, so loud I couldn’t hear what he was yelling back at me, all I could see was him looking at me with vicious and furious eyes. He reminded me of a fierce wolf that was hungry and wanted to eat me alive. To the day I cannot remember his name, or his face but I can remember his eyes.

He then tried to pull down my bikini bottom and I kick him very hard so hard he lost balance. I then manage to let go and as I try to run away he grabs my hair. The pain of having my hair literally pulled out of my scalp leaves me paralyzed. I could feel and hear my hair getting plucked and at this point he was behind me with one hand pulling my hair and the other pulling my bikini bottom down. He pushed forward towards the rock to gain more power over my body. His body was behind mine and I was trying to force my bikini up. At this point I give up and I think that he is going to rape me. That there is nothing I can do to stop it. I let go.

He pulled my bikini down to where my shorts were and started to unbutton his shorts. I realized I had a final opportunity to get away and I kicked backwards. With the force of the current he lost balance and the current pushed him about 4 feet away from me. I started to climb up the heel and to the path I saw L and her boyfriend go. I started to run and scream their names.  At one point this man catch up to me and grabbed me by my hair. I told him to let me go, that I just wanted to go home. He called me names I can’t repeat and said I liked it rough. I told him that I had a boyfriend and needed to go home and that he was hurting me. He began to loosen up my hair and I sprint away and found L who was naked, having sex with her boyfriend.

I was hysterical and I didn’t mind at that point seeing them. I was actually very glad to be among them, even in that circumstance. I was trying to tell them what happened while they were trying to cloth themselves and then this man arrived and grabbed my hair again. L’s boyfriend asks him to let go of me and this man said he was playing with me. L told him that I was crying for a reason and asked him what had happened. He laughed and let go of me without saying a word.

Back to Normal

L hugged me and I told her I wanted to go home. The hour walk back was hell to me; my head was pounding from the pain and ache through my entire body from the physical trauma was taking all my strength. Yet this was not all. This man kept on pulling my hair on the way back and at one point L and her boyfriend stopped asking him to leave me alone. We walked through the highway towards the city and once we got to the beginning of my neighborhood L and I took our separate paths and I went home to bathe. I never spoke of this again until a few years ago to my sister.

Weeks after my boyfriend and I go dancing to this huge plaza that hosted different djs and dancers to perform on Saturdays. As I was hugging my boyfriend I see this man. He was looking straight at me with the same wolf eyes. I stayed quiet and pretend that nothing happened. This man then does something that has stayed in my head ever since. He ran his thumb across his neck while looking straight at me without blinking. I then tell my boyfriend that I was feeling ill and wanted to go home. He takes me home and that is the end of this story.

This story

When we are young and we have dreams we become not hungry but obsessed with being successful. Sometimes, somewhere along your path to that success you realize that not everything is surface leveled and that sometimes personal success means struggle, knowning one self and self respect. Once we come to understand our worth and our value, we can then start to share that value with others. It’s not an easy path, I’m still learning, and that’s why I want to share my path, my story and my projects with you.

Today I have started my own blog so you can know me, my story and everything that you can learn from it.

My blogs will tell you what the life of a foreign woman looks like. You will read a true story; a story that carries tears and joy, and that will wake in you realities that were imposible to imagine before.  I’ll tell you how I was able to overcome my insecurities and fears and how I had fought and still fighting for my dreams and my goals, which keep being the same ones I’ve had since I was a teen.

My objective is to give a piece of mind and strengh to all of those who feel insecure and are also trapped between the claws of the monsters inside their head.

Welcome to my blog!

Today I want to talk about how I got to this country, Canada, which has given me the freedom to tell you now what you are about to read.

A little after my 18 birthday back in August 2011 my visa was ready and I had with me a ticket to freedom, a ticket to Canada. My mom, my sister and I were ecxited and why wouldn’t we be? My father who was remarried had claimed my 14 years old sister at the time and myself. The hours waiting at the airport looked like days and the trip on the plane months.

Finally! We are here and even though I couldn’t speak English watching the show “Friends” back home gave me the ability to tell the angry faced officers that I was a permanent resident and that my father was waiting for me behind one of those doors. Talking to them was not as scary as the intimidation I felt looking at the guards through the glass.

I moved on to the exit and there was my dad, with a huge smile in his face and my step mother was so nervous that she hold the camera for two hours but recorded nothing.

Saint John, New Brunswick, Canada: September 17, 2011.

Everything is so different, I quickly noticed we were going to be the only dark people in the block, and as it turned out we were the only dark people in the whole neighbourhood. Everything smelled different, like a new box of shoes. I remember looking outside and being so anxious to roam free and go to the mall, OH the mall! I was so ecxited to know what a real mall looked like. I was so happy to be able to shower with liquid body soap, the one that leaves your skin soft and radiant. I wanted to eat everything in the fridge, there where fruits of all kinds I had never seen, and chicken and pork and vegetables made in a way I had no idea how it came to be so tasty. So new, so shiny, so different than what I knew.

A few days after, me and my sister were going to high school attending ESL all morning and regular classes the rest of the day. I got involved in a group where I had the opportunity to teach salsa dancing and some Spanish to my classmates. Then the school dance came around and with it came Halloween. My Cuban body for the first time faced -30° weather with wind chill, and to be honest with you it felt nothing compared to what is coming next.

The freezing winter was passing and so did happiness. I started to notice a strange behavior on my sister. Not far from that, the jealousy from my step mother towards us increased to the point that my dad had the brilliant idea to send us back to Cuba for good.

Since we were Cuban my dad was forced by the government just like any other Cuban to buy a back and forth ticket to prove that we were staying in the country for a limited time.

Disappointment and anger from my mom made me incredibly mad; the only option I had was to take my sister with me and use the ticket I had to come back. Since the flight was Havana- Toronto- Saint John, New Brunswick, we took the plane to Toronto and left the connection flight lane to Saint John NB. We had to run to grab our luggage before it was transfered to the next plane. Boy that was some adventure!

My sister and I found ourselves standing in a train station that to my understanding was a connection to busses and taxis. Between the chaos and confusion a young man approached us and asked us if we knew where we were going. I looked for the words in my small vocabulary to answer his questions. I told him that we had no place to stay and that we had no idea what to do. He then proposed to take us with him and figure something out. After some calls he decided to drop us at a police station and from there a world of sacrifice, adventure and accomplishments began.

For many Cuba is the island of dreams, culture, nature, beautiful women and beautiful beaches. For a 10 year old girl that has to watch over her little sister is no more than responsabilities, fears, broken dreams and a far away hope.

Life in Cuba was like being an animal, any animal. Surviving day after day and collecting as much food as possible so others don’t take it.

I remember my mom having to exchange some of our clothes for food so we could eat something. I remember doing homework at 11:00 pm at my mom’s second job because her job as a gynecologist couldn’t pay for our basic needs. I also remember having to sell cookies at high school because it was a way of making money, and contribute to the house.

Cuba, this beautiful island that has many faces, but there is only a face Cubans know very well and can talk about only when they are far, far from it.

Cuba that beautiful island that also taught me how to be strong and positive. Thanks to the struggle, the hard work and constant positivism to keep my soul healthy and pure as a kid, I have become today this woman. A woman that doesn’t know what giving up means and that will fight for her dreams as long as is breathing.

Cuba made me see children prostitute themselves to feed their families, and that music can cure any illness; the illness of loneliness, the illness of poverty, the illness of hunger, the illnes of hopelessness. In an Island so warm and colourful people can have cold hearts and dark souls, and sometimes take the colour from children’s lives. Is an Island with many faces and in the shadows, where Cuban children roam without a guide, many kids lose their innocence, and their inner freedom to be human.

Reference:

picture extracted from: https://remezcla.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/06/Cuban_Children_Culture.jpg