I Heart Spanish Class

The great thing about an advanced Spanish course is that it's not centralized on grammar and vocabulary building.  We learn tons of new words from all of the reading we do, and our use of grammar becomes more refined for the same reason, but we don't focus on it. Exploration and learning how to think beyond a list of words (that we supposedly need to know but never actually come up in real life) help us to truly grasp the language. Every day it becomes more beautiful to me. So maybe you won't take as much from this as I do, but I'd kinda like to share one of my favorite things we've discussed so far en mi clase de español.

If you look at the two pictures, you'll notice they are very different depictions of the same woman, the Virgin Mary.  On the left, is the traditional version, and on the right the modernized, female power one.  I'm not much of a feminist, but for some reason I really enjoyed this topic.  So we see Mary on the left, prayerful, silent, covered from head to toe, obedient. And being held up by Baby Jesus (whose wings are the colors of the Mexican flag. Yee.)  Maria, especially for the Latino culture has always been the shining example of purity, chastity, and meekness for the ideal woman. 

Then there's Yolanda Lopez's representation, which combats each and every one of those binding female stereotypes.  This famous Mexican American painter is well known for her portraits of controversial social subjects, but that doesn't stop her. She should have come to Cal instead of UCSD.  Anyway, this painting is very very different from the original.  First, she's got real shoes. Pretty sure sneakers didn't exist in her day. Probably one way for Lopez to show how times have changed, and how the woman is changing with it.  And underneath those sneakers is sweet Baby Jesus, a visual way of saying "Yeah, my body can make babies. Doesn't mean I have to."  Mexico remains stalwart in trying to uphold the female role of child rearer as well as seen-and-not-heard wife; Lopez may have recognized our country's acceptance of a new direction, possibly shown through the red, white, and blue of the downtrodden bebe. 

Other details we noticed were su melena suelta (prettier way of saying she let her hair down) y su piel exposado (blunt way of saying her skin is showing).  What's more, she's got the snake of sin clutched tight in her hand. Gone is the condescension, and she wears this triumph in her smiling face, and on her back, with the covering that she turned into a cape.  She is powerful, she controls what she does and how she does it. I love the movement in the painting, she is so mobile, going wherever she pleases. This woman can be whoever she wants to be.  This woman has a voice.

And then we tied it all together using a Shakira video.  

Starters

RonRon, D Fish, Bynum, Gasol, Kobe: better openers than the one I'm about to put down.

My name won't ever hold the same panache (thanks, Cyrano) that my Lakers boys get for theirs, but mine is Amanda, in case you were wondering. Most call me Mandy unless you are my mother.  Or my Spanish teacher.

So. I'm probably one of the last to make one of these blogger things, but I hear they do wonders for the weary. An outlet of sorts. Modern day diary? I've lived in the Stone Age with regard to this aspect of normalcy in the modern world. Ohh, technology. Never had a computer til college. That made papers in high school fun; thank you dear typewriter, you dinosaur. Anyway, I thought I'd put a contemporary twist on a habit I've held since the tender age of a middle schooler. Journaling was never really a hobby or an artistic endeavor. English was always my strength, but it never truly translated to the small lined pages of a flower shaped diary (hidden not-so-well from the sticky hands of sneaky siblings). I was always more of a scribe, filling page after page of meticulous detail, every small occurrence, from how fast I read the fifth Harry Potter book to Polo's first word. The older I got, the more it went from itemized to comprehensive. Feelings fleshed out the facts. I didn't yet know who I was, but it was all recorded to be pieced together later. What I like about the whole journaling deal is that I can trace the changes, the blossoming, and even more importantly, the consistency. Even from a young age, some qualities stuck around, adding definition to my pixelated identity. Still not completely there, but I am learning.

I'll maintain the old method, but here I can edit, hash out, rethink, and blurb in a way that is less constricting than a tightly bound notebook. Also I like the sound of my keyboard as I type.

Math and science are my authoritarians at this point, leaving me next to no room for literary indulgence, and Scrabble (play with mee) can only do so much. This'll be fun, writing for release.  Maybe it'll be exciting, maybe it won't be. But don't worry, I'll keep it real.