Dear Reader,
I grew up around stories. Whether it was
during the tamales assembly line during the holidays, my mother
having coffee and pan dulce with her comadres, or my sisters
chatting with friends as they babysat me. Most of these stories
where things I overheard when people did not think I was
listening. Others were intentional sharing of what the person
considered vital information. No matter how the stories came to be
told their purpose was always clear to me, in one way or another
they were educational. Some lessons were simple: The proper way to
cook a traditional dish, the upcoming holidays, tricks to clean
the house, etc. However, the ones I found most interesting, were
those having to do cultural expectations and each person's place
within that culture. These stories had villains, heroes, right
choices and wrong ones. Those who behaved in ways that matched the
values of the culture were praised, admired and seemed to have
lives that always ended well. Those that deviated from the
collective norm even in the slightest, were shamed, outraised,
usually women and whatever evil that befell them was justified as
being a consequence for having deviated from their place in
society. There were many words used to describe these women
indesentes, mal educadas, faciles, and Salvajes being some of
them. I believe the intention of sharing their stories with one
another was to discourage any woman listing from following in
their path. A path that always seemed to end in some terrible,
severe or violent manner. It is of these women that I write about
in Las Salvajes (The Savage ones).
Las Salvajes is a string of short stories I am currently working on. They tell the lives of bold women who did not easily fit into society. I examine the impact these stories had on me as a child whose identity was being formed and assess what these stories mean to me now as grown woman who challenges many of the cultural norms placed upon her.