miss-anna-banana-blog

[miss-anna-banana-blog]

BLM and Hispanics.

In these past few days, we have seen all this protests and peaceful movements arise all over the US, and all these people having these debates about the biggest joke on earth AKA “All lives matter” it’s honestly tiring how people are so ignorant about why is wrong to chose those words right now. But that’s not my point rn, I’ll take an entire life trying to understand wtf is wrong with some people, I’m here to talk about Hispanics and their support on the BLM movements. The United States Census Bureau uses the ethnonyms "Hispanic or Latino" to refer to "a person of Cuban, Mexican, Puerto Rican, South or Central American, or other Spanish culture or origin regardless of race" and states that Hispanics or Latinos can be of any race, any ancestry, any ethnicity. So now that you got an idea of what I’m about to talk, I’d like to state that I’ll be speaking on behalf of the Mexican people, as a Mexican myself and I’ll try not to generalize. So, here we go.....We have to admit, as Mexican folks, that we ARE racists and we have been racists our whole life (I could even include myself, because I used to be an ignorant person a few years ago, but I have seen the light). We might think that we aren’t because we do not have *exactly* a relation with African-american people or black people (Now FYI we do. Because a lot of people from Haiti, Nigeria and other places just arrived in Mexico a few months ago in hopes to cross the border) So at the very beginning that was our excuse. We do not have any black people in our community, we’re not racists. WELL, that’s a lie. We are racists from the very moment we chose the white looking people to represent us on television and other media. Oh and we also call “Indios” and other stuff to all the native people that live here in mexico. We do have lot’s of tribes here, and they came here first, they come from the Aztecs, Mayans and other tribes that used to rule Mexico before it was fucking Mexico. And yet, we treat them as pariahs and get the feeling that we are superior than them. That’s fucking sick and also fucking real, but that’s not our only problem, actually, we do have a bigger one, and that is...IGNORANCE! We have to admit as a country that we re way too ignorant and uneducated. Why do I say this? Because we have no idea about what history is really about. I bet half of the people only learned from the racism in the US from movies or social media, and they got surprised that that ever happened. And that’s because our schools are so focused on teaching us about the good’ole European history. You know that shit, right? How all fucking Europe colonized the whole world and came to Mexico, made us speak fucking Spanish and changed our whole traditions, and yeah, that’s our story, but that’s like, everything they want us to know. They don’t teach us the important history moments in a country some of us have so close (I’m referring to all the cities that have a border crossing) so....we don’t have fucking clue about what’s right and  what’s wrong, or maybe we do, we just like to ignore it because....We are ignorant’s lmao. 

Here’s what I have discovered: we think that because we are not exactly white (most of us are brown but YET that does not make us black or light skin) it makes us MEXICANS, LATINOS, HISPANICS. So if we’re not black, then why do we feel entitled to use the N word that much? Like, yeah, I get that we share some unfortunate stuff with black people (like white people hate our guts and some other stuff) but it is not the same. We can’t put ourselves on the same level, honestly. And that means, we do not have permission to use that word. But we do it. I used to do it. Because I thought “I’m not racist, there’s no black people around to be offended, It could be fun. I am Mexican, the only racists are the white people and I am def not white” but guess what? I kinda turned myself into a white racist person, having those thoughts. I think I used the word because I knew it wasn’t a big deal bc I was in Mexico and because we even had a rapper named by the N word. HE CALLED HIMSELF LIKE THAT. And we sang his song at the top of our lungs and we never thought it was wrong because no one told us or said something about it. It was normal, it was like  “there’s nothing wrong. That’s his stage name” but ofc it was wrong. still is wrong. And people now seem to forget that we managed to make it look like it was something normal. 

We could blame the ignorance, the lack of cultured people this country has, the fact that people love black people (as rappers, actors, sports players) but they just not respect them. So now, that we are showing support and becoming allies, let’s make one thing clear. You can’t be an ally if you keep disrespecting black people by singing that part with the N word while you happily listen to rappers such as Future, Travis Scott and whoever you listen to.

I have never apologized for using that word as a “fun word” because I didn’t knew how. But I’d like to do it. To state that I never intended any harm or never thought it was disrespectful because no one ever told me it was and I never had the initiative to look it up on google. But I am sorry and I’d like my people to feel sorry for doing the same. I’d like their support towards this movement to be honest and not to just post some BLM pictures and then continue to sing the part they should not sing. 

If you, as an Hispanic person would like to help and be an ally, then you should ask yourself first if you ever were racist or disrespectful towards black people. Even if you never met a black person or if you have never been in the US. Just ask yourself that. And then, support. And do it because it’s the right thing and to because your favorite celebrity is doing it or because “It would look cool” because yeah, all the help is good, all the support could be used, but it’s better when it’s honest and specially, when you do it out of guilt. 

#blm #article #hispanics

[miss-anna-banana-blog]

I never thought I’ll be writing something like this, specifically the part of exposing myself in front of the people who follow me + the ones who don’t but still are checking up all the time. These pictures take me back to summer 2017. The worst year of my entire life. You couldn’t tell of course because I made sure no one wouldn’t be capable of noticing these kind of things. I posted positive, happy and silly things and I “became the best version of me” lmao. Now I can finally admit that was some huge ass bullshit and I’m mad no one said a thing. A few months before those photos were taken, I started to battle with my super toxic new old friend Anorexia, followed by her cousin Bulimia. I could remember having a goal: To be as skinny as possible. To look as good as I could ever look on a family trip to the beach (now that I think about it, it’s like, come on, it’s your family they don’t give a shit). Also, before that, I had my high school prom and you can guess what my new eating disorder did for me. Did you guessed? Yes, it made me bought a smaller freaking expensive dress! So that I could have a motivation to lost all the freaking weight I hated. I remember being asked by the lady in charge of the dress store “Don’t you want the L size? I think you could feel more comfortable” And my whole face started to burn. I felt awful. But I remained calm, laughed and said “I’m about to go on a diet. I’ll loose all this weight” and she ofc had to be this supportive “buy all my shit” kind of person. So she suggested me to get the S size. But around that time I was dumb, but like not that dumb after all because I knew that, there was no way in hell I could fit into that shit, even if I stopped eating for like a whole month. So I decided to get the M one. And yes, maybe M is kinda considered a fat girl size, but this dress was made of lace. fucking lace. Which means, it was tight and getting the M was sort of a big deal. That day I paid for my own dress (because my parents had no idea about my future plans) and went home all happy and excited because I finally had a goal to achieve: To fit in that dress, because I couldn’t afford to throw all my money away. So at this moment I’d like to state that I have a mild pill addiction (nothing serious, but sometimes they still appeal to me as candies or some shit) and it appeared around this time because this girl had an eye opening moment when she found out about...*drum rolls* LOSING WEIGHT PILLS. It was a whole thing. I was shocked. Like, I could lose weight by taking this lil pill? Everyone said “yes” forgetting that ofc It’s not that easy. So I started to take them daily, even surpassing the recommended dose. I began to let those pills solve my whole eating problems. I started dieting but sometimes I had these huge cravings (I could also say I’m kind of a compulsive eater?) anyways, I wanted to eat junk food, but I couldn’t do it. My whole brain was like “No honey” and then we started to have a battle and when I won that battle, I decided to choose the losing weight pills as my ally. So, in resume, I ate a lot of shit and then I’d let the pills do it’s job. And what job I’m talking about? Diarrhea LMFAO. I mean, I had to get used to be shitting my pants every single time because everything I ate ended up in the freaking toilet in a very gross way. The thing is, I learned to live with this awful thing. I made it look like something normal. But the truth is, it wasn’t normal and I could have gotten a serious disease by doing that. But as always, that wasn’t enough. And when I realized the pills process was kinda slow I decided to cut most of the foods I considered “bad”. I ate once a day, drank tons of water and detox tea; courtesy of my mom. Because, now that I realize all this stuff, I didn’t started all of this by myself. I let my mom help me develop it. She has always talked about losing weight methods, pills, creams, all the things that would help you lose weight, my mama knew. So I always had this fear of my mom targeting my fatness. I had the fear that she would be disappointed because of the weight I had after all the advice she gave to me and my sisters. I mean, she always had something to say about this losing weight thing, How could I be fat? She literally was giving me options to not be fat anymore. So to her, at first was kinda normal that I decided to go to sleep to avoid eating. I would literally had a small plastic bag with some granola for breakfast and water. Then I would eat tuna with lettuce and lemon and more water and then I’d have more tuna for dinner. And when I felt hungry as hell? I went to sleep. It helped me a lot to be a sick person at it’s fullest. But hey, I def started to lose weight. With all the things I cut and the pills I was this close to achieve my goal. I decided to join my mom on her gym routine and people there started to compliment me about how skinny I started to look. I was living the dream!! I started to push myself way harder on the gym (I also almost fainted like 2-3 times a week) but Hey, I needed to get toned! Being skinny wasn’t enough. So I started to realize I could get myself to look better. And guess who helped me achieve my skeleton look? My dearest friend, index finger. We had our first meeting one time at the bathroom. That time I didn’t thought I’d be capable of doing something like that. I was scared of the result. But somehow we managed to forget that rocky start and the first time I vomited I was like “woah so this is how it feels. My god, can’t believe I’ve missed this my whole life” and it was so easy. I didn’t even need to cut foods. I could eat whatever I wanted! And then It would be gone for good! And all I had to do was push my finger deep in my throat. So fucking easy. And that’s how I finally achieved my goal, by playing the girl from the exorcist movie in my bathroom every day after every meal. I should’ve been happy, but my ED said “nope” and I had a whole breakdown and missed my prom. I went trough a lot of changes, decided to cut and dye my hair and tried to become a whole new person while stile carrying my oldest two versions (The one before the ED, and the one who had the ED) and I felt like I became an actress in this movie called “how long could you keep it cool until you become crazy”. Around that time, I weighted like 43...42 kg. I was way under my weight. My legs were tiny and I loved them. I loved to feel my ribs, my hip bones. I loved to see how my clothes looked bigger on me. I even sent some of my clothes to be fixed so that they would be smaller and fit me and yet, they didn’t because I was too small now. And I loved it. No one said a thing. My family was like “Oh now you’re skinny? It must be from the gym” My mom was thrilled. She never said it, but I could tell by the way she looked at me when I asked her if she could send my clothes to her friend because they didn’t fit me anymore. She even started to buy me clothes on smaller sizes and we even joked about how now I would have to buy on the kid’s section because I was so small and I couldn’t be prouder. I took photos with the clothes that looked bigger on me. I had to have proof that I was tiny! I was having a moment. And people started to notice that I became tiny but never asked how I got to be ‘that’ tiny. So, they never asked. I never answered. Until now lol. So the family trip to the beach happened and there I ate all the things I couldn’t while achieving my goal, because what the hell I was already skinny, I could eat whatever I wanted. And I ate, and ate and yet, I looked good on the bikini photos. I MEAN, for the first time in years I bought a TWO PIECES swimsuit. I had a great time there, it felt like a culmination in my life. I took cute pictures in front of the beach house, my cousin complimented be about looking skinny and pretty and yeah, happy ever after. Back at home, the struggle wasn’t over. I started to eat normally again but always fearing about my weight. I was perfect. I couldn’t lose that. So it begins the journey of “eating and regretting and then vomiting and then regretting it and then sending everything to hell and eating once again” and that went on repeat ALL DAY. To summarize, this isn’t exactly a story with a happy ending. It got to a point where I realized “WTF DUDE. YOU’LL DIE FROM THIS” and I stopped doing all that shit. Even my parents noticed the whole thing before I could send it back to hell. Tbh I was kinda expecting them to be mad or anything but they were like “we could hear you vomiting” and that’s all. Um, so you heard? Uh, sorry? My mom was more worried about how the toilet looked after I threw up on it. She said the stains were awful. So, I’d like to say sorry to my mom for staining her toilet while dealing with all my shit. My bad mom. 

Now, I’d like to state that it’s been three years since that happened and my family and I still haven’t spoke about it. I had to seek help somewhere else. And you know, I’m not stating that my parents are the ones to blame. No, I was 17. I was totally aware of how awful having a ED was and yet I decided to participate. However, I totally believe they should have said something. I mean, it took a very short time for me to lose more than 30 kg and I slept all day. Wasn’t that weird for them? Maybe. But my parent’s weren’t exactly raised to be aware of people’s emotions. My parents were raised to be emotionless. They rarely show emotions and that’s something regular at home. So, if they ever felt worried they never expressed it because they didn’t knew how. And that’s normal, At least to me. 

Moving forward to 2020, I’m 21. I’m an ED survivor (hate the word but you know, I didn’t died so I guess I kinda survived?) and I’m still in recovery and def not fully healed. That’s why I said this didn’t exactly had a happy ending. Because when you have an ED you can’t just put it away and make it disappear from your life. Nope, it’s not that easy and if someone says it is. They’re big liars. People talk about how difficult is to recover and gain weight without having these awful thoughts but they never tell you how your relationship with food changes forever. Or maybe they do, but it’s very rare tbh. Now, 3 years after having an ED I can say I still have it in me. Every time I eat something, I can’t help to feel guilty. To have the urge to vomit everything or the amount of times I say in my head “You need to cut food again” I get a losing weight goal every month. And I have the same feelings and thoughts I used to have 3 years ago. I look at myself in the mirror and I don’t feel proud. I get the feeling I’m not having my best moment. And it sucks, you know? Because it’s tiring. Having your mind working 24/7 on the food you just ate and you could have replaced it with something healthier. And not being able to stop it. It also doesn’t help the fact that my mom is still obsessed with losing weight. She still has this habit of checking what I eat and making this “I don’t approve it” face. A month ago, I kinda had a relapse. I started to cut foods and then I was like “Hey, remember those pills? They still exist, you know?” But, I had no money. I couldn’t go outside to get them (bc quarantine, yikes) and I had no idea which ones would help me this time. So...I asked the expert; my mom. I’d like to state again I’m not blaming her. Anyways, I told her I felt fat and awful (she never said “you’re not fat” bc I have to admit, I am, at the moment) and asked her for her advice on losing weight stuff. She quickly recommended some popular diet pills she once listened a woman recommend in the radio. She even told me about a deal they had! Which included 3 bottles, all of them with 60 pills. Bro, I was in paradise at that moment. 180 pills plus having the opportunity to lose weight? WHAT A FUCKING DEAL My mom was thrilled, she even got the deal for herself (and both suffered from the same consequences, that my mom tried to cover up by saying that “it was the body’s reaction” and that we were detoxing our bodies” but I decided to cut that bullshit and stopped taking them bc I had awful results (and also, I wasn’t exactly losing weight which was the whole goal) 

Today, June 2nd. I reflected about this whole thing. I am proud I never went to the bottom and to the hospital. But I’m not proud on the fact that I still haven’t recovered. Not even a bit. I mean, yeah, now I have double thoughts before doing something my ED tells me to do, but I still have the urge of being skinny. I still compare my body and feel like that is the only thing I could offer. Most stories shared this day, are successful ones. Most have this cute ending with them still being skinny but now, reflecting on life and talking about healthy weight gain. But not all stories are like those ones. There’s people still struggling. Like me, I haven’t even recovered but yet, I’m sharing this shit. Because that’s the reality behind having a daughter, sister, friend, with an ED. 

We would never openly say “I HAVE AN EATING DISORDER” but it’s always in the little details. It’s in the way they read the menu and search for the healthy options and the calories, the way they express about their bodies, the way they constantly say how much they need to go to the gym. It’s in the way they look at food whenever you offer them, like if they could calculate how many days would it take for that food to get stuck in their body, specifically in the abdomen area. It’s there, but not many people gets to see it. It’s a matter of paying attention. And no, we do not want attention all the time, we do not want you to save us. It’s not about that. It’s about being aware that we are struggling and that we might need your support at least once. 

Personally, I do not want to be saved. I just want to cope with it. I want to be able to eat healthy without falling again into these crap. I want to be able to look back and say “I fucking did it”. If I’m totally honest, the thought of losing weight will always be here with me. I’ll always have this little voice telling me “You could be smaller, you know? “You could stop your dad from saying that you’d be perfect to play football again because you could tackle everyone with that body” “You could be as tiny as your sister” “You could show your ballet teacher that you do not look like a ball anymore” “You could make your mom proud because you have taken her advice” “You could fit in that shirt and those pants again” and the most important one “You could have it all” because sadly, in this world, skinny means successful. And while I still try to achieve being that successful, the ED thoughts won’t go away, not at all. And I’m being honest. Terribly honest. But at least, I’m not lying and saying I’ll do better. Because, I’ll be better, just not today and maybe not even in two years from now. But I’ll be one day. 

This story was shared to commemorate the World Eating Disorders Action Day (June 2nd) to spread awareness about what ED really mean and what they actually look like in real life. 

#world eating disorder action day #june 2nd #spread awareness #eating disoder things #eating disoder thoughts