I laughed to myself as I read fellow blogger Libby’s piece last week on being a Latina who doesn’t cook. Reader’s comments ranged from expert rice cookers who sang the praises of the caldero to readers who seemed more likely to order a pizza and watch the game with the guys. I laughed even more because I could relate to both extremes.
My mom did everything in the house. She cooked multiple meals a day, ironed my dad’s clothes, washed the floors with trapos, and did laundry for a family of six. This is what my mom did, what her mother did, what my aunts in Ecuador did. And if you listen to certain men (and women) talk about it, this is what Latinas should be doing. (Preferably while wearing a smile and 4-inch heels.)Growing up though, I decided this role would not be mine. I would wait on no one and chores would be every person for herself. Even while under the same roof with the Latina version of Julia Childs, I never bothered to learn how to cook. (To my credit, my mom who didn’t cook until she got married at 19 encouraged me to focus en los studios instead.) And I’m embarrassed to admit I didn’t do laundry until I got to college. I remember skulking into the dorm’s laundry room at 3am, so no one would witness my confusion as I tried to figure out the machines for the first time. I was basically hopeless when it came to keeping a home. But I wore my ineptitude with a sort of pride – pride in not being domestic, in not being domesticated like a sad, limp animal whose wild ways have been tamed.
The thing is, as I’ve gotten older, this sharp dichotomy that once lived in my head – strong independent woman versus
sappy Suzy homemaker – no longer rings true. Maybe it’s my age. Maybe it’s because this is the first time I’ve lived in the same apartment for more than a year. Maybe it’s exposure to more balanced gender roles. Or maybe it’s because we really 
do become our mothers. But DAMN IT, I’m enjoying being domestic. I enjoy cooking for those I love…watching their faces the moment they take that first bite. I actually enjoy making lunches, keeping a clean kitchen, bathing and grooming the dog, folding the towels so they all point the same way and fit perfectly in the linen closet. (I keep a fine linen closet, if I do say so myself.)
I once would have been embarrassed to admit my bouts of domestic bliss, and a small part of me dressed in overalls and a baseball cap still wants to kick the crap out of my linen closet. But I’ve learned to appreciate that maybe along with her curiosity, passion, and warmth; I inherited some of my mom’s domestic skills too. The difference is that without stringent expectations to be a domestic goddess, I can find the joy in becoming one.
About Adriana Villavicencio
I’m a young newly married woman and my husband comes from a very old fashoned traditional mexican family. The mothers, abuelas, tias, and wives cook and clean do laundry and take care of the men and la hijos. I on the other hand, come from a mixed family. My mom is mexican, but doesn’t know spanish, or how to cook. My dad is an italian who loves to cook. My mom even says how she married a gringo so she didn’t get put into the role of repressed housewife. Jajajaa. So I was raised to cook for myself, do my own laundry, and clean up after myself. I was compleatly thrown off gaurd to see how much my husband and the other men do not help. My first few days where spent learning to make homeade tortillas! But as time passes, I’ve learned to accept it. (Ever though my friends call me a housewife and ask how it feels to be married to a child) but still I feel that its to each his own.
It’s all about the expectation. I keep a cleaner home without a husband than I ever did with one! Or maybe it’s just that he was the messy one…
I was raised in the Bronx. Being the oldest male, no dad, I never had to lift a domestic finger in my life. I was an excellent student but after I got involved with the wrong crowd, I so wanted to fit in, I dropped out.
I joined the military when I was 17 and 1 day old. I remember bringing home the enlistment papers aand my mom not being able to sign them quick enough.
And like Ms. Villavicencio I too had no idea how to wash clothes. But unlike her, the first time I did my own laundry, I went when it the laundry mat was busiest. That way I could pretend I was reading as I waited for an empty washer in order to scope out what the other folks were doing.
Unfortunately I decided to emulate the wrong girl. I didn’t know it but she didn’t exactly know how to wash clothes either. I watched her drop soap in the machine and then dump her clothes in. She put the money in and off went the machine. I said to myself, “I can do that.” So I followed her example only to be surprised at how pink my tighty-whiteys came out. Everything white was pink as the red t-shirt I had in there ran.
Now at the time we lived in open bay barracks like the ones we see in all those 40′s noir movies. And to top it off the shower stall was made for six soldiers at a time. Needless to say the heckling I received due to my pink underwear was unbearable.
Over the years I learned to separate colors and whites. When to use the different laundry agents such as stain removers and softeners. I’m pretty set and being the domestic person I share with my daughter and son-in-law, I keep a real tight linen closet.
Cooking came pretty easy to me. Repairing the engine or transmission to an Apache Helicopter as part of the helicopter repair company I was assigned to, that was difficult.
I don’t know why but for some reason all, except pasteles, of the foods I ate as a youngster growing up in the Bronx, arroz con pollo, pernil, habichuelas con patitas y calabaza, and so on… it all came easy once I learn to make my own sofrito.
My daughter is half Japanese and half Puerto Riquena. Her husband is Anglo. And we eat all sorts of ethnic foods but when I cook comida criolla I can see them salivating. My son-in-law has even learned to make arroz con pollo and will go to the Latino store here to get Latino products such as Goya.
I’ve come a long ways since pink underwear while in the military but I lovee that I take care of the house while the kids do their thing. And I wear my title of, “Houseman,” with pride. Boricua pride.
We latinas are expected to know how to do everything. Growing up, I helped my mother with the chores around the house but cooking. In fact, I couldn’t even make rice. Once, I got married, I learned how to cook. My husband doesn’t tell me what to do around the house or how it should be done, thank goodness. However, I do enjoy being a home maker and doing chores. I’m still independent. I go to school and I’m finishing up my degree while I manage a household….
OmG!! Are you talking about ME in this post?!?!?!?!
Well almost…
The thing is, I have been trained to be a housewife since I can remember. However, both my parents encouraged me to study and make something of myself. While gorwing up (which I’m still doing lol) I decided I didnt want to be a housewife, and yet, I can’t boast enough about my cooking and cleaning skills (laundry needs a little work).
Nowadays, I take great pride in being able to make anyone a nice plate of Arroz con Carne, ensaladita y tostones, right after I wipe the floor with their “intellect.” after all, debate does give anyone an appetite JejeJe
Aaaaahhh the joys of an educated domestic goddess =D
AWESOME POST!!!!
As a Haitian- American man, I find there is nothing wrong or demeaning in my partner/girlfriend/wife taking the role of Susie Homemaker in the home. The reality is that as this is a partnership we both play roles and I have my own responsibilities as a man in the home to live up to, provider, handyman, garbage man, exterminator, electrician, belt wheeler, big piece of chicken eater, etc. So as long as I fulfill my duties as your man to make the home and relationship operate as easily and productively as possible there should be no problems in you, my partner, doing the same. Just because its old doesn’t mean its wrong, sometimes that just proves why its right.
Signed,
The unmarried black guy
Marry me.
I know exactly what you’re talking about! I’ve been living on my own for about a year and a half and I really enjoy being domesticated. I enjoy it so much that when my friend started living with me recently after getting kicked out of his house and having no where to go, I found myself wanting to cook for the guy. I never realized how domesticated (or “Latina”, as my roommate says) I was until I started living with an Arab lol. If he doesn’t eat my food, I act like our mothers or grandmothers do when we would refuse to eat their food for whatever reasons that was. I think we all forget that we can balance being professional with being domestic.
I think we should all learn household chores so when you go out on your own you’re able to do laundry, clean up your apartment, or make yourself something to eat it’s about being independent and self-sufficient I think what turns people off is the expectation due to gender and culture if not there there’s always drop off laundry service and take out and I’ve used both especially the laundry service.