A blog by Amanda Alcantara

Thursday, January 5, 2017


Acción Poética, Santiago de los Caballeros, República Dominicana

I wake up and immediately look through my texts. Did he send a message while I was asleep? 

I see a message from someone, and I start reading with excitement. Contrale, maybe el muchacho came through, por fin!

I look at the sender y nada que ver, el buen ridiculo no me mandó na. Era un mensaje de mi tío, de esos que mandan a un reguero de gente en Whatsapp. I swear those chain messages should've died when hotmail died. I deleted the message knowing that I was now condemmed to mala suerte por 10 años, and went back to sleep.

I have been oversleeping these days. Es que it's easier to wait while being asleep.

I'm not really waiting though, more like trying to forget, more like trying to ignore, more like continuing on with life knowing I have this disease called pendejismo. El pendejismo es cuando uno tiene miedo. Pero no es así de sencillo, el pendejismo es también cuando uno se deja coger de pendejo, o cuando a uno lo cogen de pendejo. Basically, cuando creen que uno no se sabe defender y se aprovechan de uno. When they think u can easily get played. Not to be confused with Pentagonismo which is how the Dominican Republic let(s) itself become la pendeja de los Estados Unidos.

In this case, my pendejismo, is where I stick around for dudes who don't deserve me. Where I patiently believe their every word, and even in knowing they could totally be lying, I believe them porque sí. 

I wonder if he'll read this. Because even as I'm writing this, I'm hoping he'll check this out. Is it good enough? Should I talk about something he might be interested in? I hope he's impressed because this is in Spanglish and not proper Spanish/English, so like super cool and artsy (he's not an artist, he has a regular job like any regular person but he wishes he was an artist, his drawings are so cool...so I guess of course he's an artist) (I say that and yet my stomach fills with butterflies cuz he's like such a fly artist). 

Coño! Pero e' verdad que yo soy pendeja. 

I mean, in reality though, I'm not. Because he does like me, whenever I ask why he doesn't text me he comes up with a legitimate excuse. Being busy is legitimate. Having a 9 to 5 and sometimes more than 5pm is legitimate. Having kids to tend to is legitimate. Having una mujer to tend to--he's not with her though, I promise--is legitimate. Listen, he's into me, he just doesn't show it how others do. Y le creo.

And I'm totally getting something out of this. A veces le mando una foto super sexy, y el me responde que me veo "tan linda". Reminds me of the words I craved as a kid. De niña, I'd bring notas buenas a la casa para que me digan que inteligente soy, busting my ass every year in school, only to hear "Amandita is so smart". I knew being told pretty couldn't be earned, I was born with this cara and skin and skinny legs and round nose. But praise for being smart, that could be earned, so I earned love that way.

Now I take sexy half nude photos looking fly just to hear the pride come through in them texts from them boys, pa' que el me diga "que linda" "bella" "I want you".

Coñazo. Ni cuantos dique traumas sin sanar.

Anyway, I'm legit not trying to end this though. Because like I said, I legit believe in him, which is the whole thing with pendejismo.

My thing is, what if he's saying the truth and I'm really just a nice person who believes him. 

You know when people ask "who hurt you?" I've never been asked that, because I'm too trusting. Yo me muthafucking entrego. Completamente. Hasta a los pendejos fuckboys que se creen que estan mas bueno que el culo y que me van a coger de pendeja. I know their game, I just fucking pretend not to know and then end up falling for it como una pendeja pariguaya coño. (The irony, pariguayo comes from "party watcher", a result of US intervention in the DR which gave birth to pentagonismo, not to be confused with pendejismo, though pariguayismo is el hermano del pendejismo) (Amandita is so smart). 

Back to el muchacho, he's not a fuck boy. Y en verdad si el quisiera pussy, yo se lo diera sin todo el decorations and shit cuz I'm independent and I can fuck whoever I want without strings attached. 

Back to pendejismo, I remember the first time someone called me pendeja. It was so fucking hateful too. Man people are fucked up, why do I trust them so hard?

Anyway, I was maybe 8 years old, with Mami en una clínica waiting to get a shot. I was terrified, I hated having blood taken out. I still do. Estábamos ahí, y me iban a sacar como 7 tubitos de sangre. They always pick the same spot too, a protruding vein in my right arm that looks like the veins they draw on cartoon's foreheads when a white cartoon gets angry. I was fighting, crying hysterically because I didn't want to get a needle put inside of me. Then una muchacha ahí, she must've been maybe thirteen, looked at me and said "que pendeja". She was making fun of me, but the hate in her face was so hard that I even remember it now. She was showing off that she wasn't afraid to get a shot herself. I remember I told Mami I felt bad about it, and I forgot what Mami said. Creo que me dijo como que no le diera mente, she laughed "eso no e na".

I kinda feel like crying thinking about that moment, I wish I had had the backbone to walk up to her and smack her. Of course she was way bigger than me, but still que estúpida. I was a kid, I was allowed to be scared, buena babosa. 


Look, what I'm saying is, I'm a pendeja who knows I'm a pendeja therefore I'm not a pendeja because acknowledging it means I'm aware and awareness voids the thing from actually existing, right? Cuz el pendejismo no se elige, y yo lo estoy eligiendo. 

Damn, look at how clever I am. (Is he reading this?)

Still, knowing is not enough because knowing no lo cura. But then, cuál es la cura? Is there a rehab center for pendejismo? Where can I get the will power or support to dejar las pendejadas que me tienen pendejiando como una buena pendeja?

Okay, but fuera de relajo, I know my worth. And I know that all of this is tied to needing some sort of validation from men. Cuz I grew up believing my humanity was tied to that. But I'm already 26 years old, ya está bueno de estar dealing with that internalized oppression bs. How do I heal from that shit? 

I try to curarlo, I drink té de rosas to love myself more, té de lavanda for the anxiety from realizing I can't stop thinking about him, and I touch myself every night (every.single.night) to remind myself I don't need him or nobody for sex. And I have my healing stones, and I've learned to travel sin compañero. And I'm independent, to the point where me dejo coger de pendeja by offering to pay for shit these dudes should be paying for, only cuz I don't wanna feel I owe them anything (but really, I think I just feel bad letting anyone pay for me). Pero en verdad, those new age medication shits can only do so much. Yo necesito una buena galleta de una amiga que me diga "mira coño deja las pendejadas, do you not know your worth?!" Don Omar himself needs to come through singing "Pobre Diabla" to me. Shit, I heard Nicki Minaj left Meek Mill and I'm just like yassss girl, pero yo aquí con uno que me tiene hanging by a string, cuz a string is all he can afford to give me, though I got la fucking soga que le da la vuelta tres veces a la luna for him, and it's as thick as the thickest tronco de un árbol en el caribe- cuz I love dudes the same way la Madre Naturaleza loves us, sin nada a cambio. She's there dying, being burned alive, but still loving the shit out of us. 

He's not just any dude though. 

He's telling the truth, I don't have a reason not to believe him, and I kinda wanna support him. And I know it makes me sound like a pendeja, but he makes me wanna write more. He inspires me. Having him in my life then is good for me right? Does it have to be a transaction? Can't I just care about him? Why do our relationships have to be transactions and not just like connections based on similar likes and goals?

See, I told you I was clever.

Shit though, I'm still sitting here, waiting for a goddamn text, como una pendeja. 


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