There are few words that I won't say. Few words disgust or offend me. Those few are all in the racial slur category. With that being said, I swear a lot, in case you hadn't noticed. Fuck being a personal favorite in English. For the longest time I have battled my tendency to cuss, trying to weed certain words out of my vocabulary. About a year ago, at the suggestion of my parents, I even went through this blog and edited out all the shits and fucks and whatnot. It only took me a short time to realize that it just wouldn't be possible. Sure, I have a semi-effective child and professional filter, but here? I can't hold back. It's not happening.
And when I began to live half my life speaking only Spanish, it was only natural that I began to swear in my second language as well. And in Spanish, my most used swear word is verga, much to my husband's disgust. He says my choice of words embarrasses him, that I sound like a naca, a cualquiera, a callajera. Ghetto.
Yup, he got it right. I'm well aware of what I sound like.
Again it was suggested that I watch my words. My mother-in-law tried to teach me to say a la ver gatos ni ratones quedan instead of saying a la verga. Yeah, that one didn't stick.
I understand why it's such a big deal. Honestly, I do. Especially when speaking Spanish, I understand that my language isn't lady-like. And I get that for whatever reason, a woman who says hijo de la chingada is more offensive in Mexico than a woman saying son of a bitch in the US. I don't know why, that's just the way things seem to be. And as a woman with a colorful vocabulary, I am misunderstood quite a bit. Maybe thought to be low-class. Okay, that's great, I just don't give two shits.
I really don't care if people think I sound like a low-class hood rat that was raised by a pack of wolves. I know who I am and I know how I was raised. I'm not planning on dining with any Juarez debutantes any time soon, much less the Obama family. I just express myself in the most accurate way I know how. Take it as you may.
Honestly, if you haven't noticed by now, I'm really writing this for my husband. It's my twisted way of putting my foot in the ground and valiantly saying, "Now you listen mister, if I want to say que ella es una perra mal nacida, you better let me say it!"
And you know, when I am speaking to people, sometimes I see a gleam in Ray's eyes. A little glint of pride behind all of his embarrassment. Maybe it's because he's proud of my Spanish even though he doesn't approve of my choice of words. Maybe it's because he wishes he could express himself so freely, even to strangers. I'm not sure. All I know is that this is me, and everyone is going to have to just take it or leave it.