When I was growing up, the biggest compliment my dad’s side of the family could give something was to say that it was “como en los Estados.” Just like in the States, they would say. That big, bright, American pie in the sky. The way that phrase would roll off their tongues– it was almost as if they could taste the vast stretches of highways and the pizza from shopping mall food courts.
When I moved back to Nicaragua with my parents in the 90’s, American luxury goods were not extremely easy to come by. And by “luxury goods” I mean things like chocolate bars, CD’s, movies on VHS, books, Campbell’s soup. In order to get access to these things, you needed to have access to high-class shopping venues or have relatives who would come to Nicaragua bringing American wares with them. But what this really meant is that you needed to have money and class. You had to have the money and the class to know what you were missing and to know how to appreciate it when you got it.
Money and class were irresistible to my dad’s side of the family. And why not? In our small town of León they had come to be known as a wealthy and classy family. Even after the country went through its political turmoil and my family found themselves with diminished wealth and status, they continued to be enamored with maintaining a high-class lifestyle if only for appearances sake. My grandmother owned so many Louis Vuitton purses that I grew up assuming it was a style favored by old ladies and not an item of haute couture. My aunts smeared themselves in crimson Chanel lipstick and my uncles favored only the best cars. My female cousins were decked in jewelry at all times and their mother would carefully chaperone how they looked every time they left the house.
My mom’s side of the family was equal in (diminishing) wealth and status, but they were less concerned with expressing it. I was never decked in jewelry because my mom rarely wore it herself. I never saw my mom’s family make a big deal about material things. Certainly, they must have been aware of their privilege and happy with their comfortable lives, but it was all very natural. They lacked the anxiety and pettiness my father’s family seemed to exude.
The older I got, the more problematic this became for me. On the one hand, I didn’t want to be anything like my father’s family. I was slightly embarrassed of them for being so transparently superficial. But on the other hand, I liked nice things. I didn’t want my mother to dress me and force me to wear jewelry, but I did like jewelry and wanted more of it. I didn’t want to play the who-has-more game that my dad’s side of the family seemed to be experts at, but I did want to have more and was dissatisfied because I knew I wouldn’t get it. The older I got and the more aware I became of what I did and didn’t have, the more frustrated I became because I knew I wasn’t living up to the social standards around me. All of a sudden, I wanted to be como en los Estados. I wanted that ultimate gold stamp of social approval.
Well, you can’t get any closer to being como en los Estados than actually living en los Estados. I killed two birds with one stone in moving here: I got away from the social pressures of high-class Nicaraguan society and I increased my chances of attaining everything one needs in order to live a luxurious life. Independently, of course. I am slowly but surely building my own standards of satisfaction that have nothing to do with what my dad’s family would want for me.
Or does it?
The jewel-encased cousin I mentioned earlier lives in los Estados as well and recently took to Facebook to brag about her husband’s new car and her new ridiculously expensive shoes. Oh how our grandmother would be proud. Reading her status, I felt a cold, familiar grip in my heart. That pang of not wanting anything to do with our family’s dumb obsession with wealth and also the desire to be able to afford everything in the whole wide world and be fabulously haute couture myself. I can feel myself become petty and…is it possible that I am jealous? Here we are, the new fruits of a generation with all the world in front of us and we bring with us the habits and traditions of the old. I want to run away and never hear como en los Estados again, but I also want to stay and fight and prove that I don’t have to be como anything at all.
Talons and Skills 