Olga Dies Dreaming(41)

Sometimes it looks like passion—they adore us, they treasure us, they want to be with us in the morning, every night, on the weekends. We, our hearts open, eager to give that love back and warmed by the light of their admiration, comply. We make ourselves available at their convenience, never giving another thought to what we might have done with those moments, hours, and days had they not asked for them. We justify it by saying, but what’s more important than love? Never remembering that when they ask for your time it’s always before and after they’ve accomplished what they wanted to do with their day.

Sometimes it looks like being supportive—they trust us, they need us, they feel we understand them, they believe we make them better. We, overflowing with capacity to care, flattered that we are so special, so chosen, so intellectually equal and necessary, we again comply. We put our energy—our tremendous energy—into strategizing how to achieve their dreams. How to help actualize their visions. Not realizing that the size of their ambitions blocks the light with which to see our own.

Sometimes love looks like being a savior—they seem lost, confused, without direction. We, ever-optimistic believers in change and the power of unconditional love, again comply. We give them guidance, we offer discipline, we go so far as to loan them our vision until they can find one of their own. All while our own dreams gather dust.

Olguita, mi amor, I have heard that this man—this “musician”—wants to settle down. I implore you to walk the other way. Mija, you’re only twenty-five years old! Your own dreams are hardly formed, and I worry that with a man like that—a man who seems so lost himself—you’ll spend your whole life supporting his ideas and his career and his children.

Marriage, when I was young, was a permission slip. The only way, in those days, a young woman could cross the threshold into adulthood. But you and your generation have the chance to be truly liberated—and true liberation is freedom from obligation. Obligation to soothe a husband’s ego, or a baby’s hungry cries.

Your father was brilliant. A dreamer. An idealist. He was a wonderful lover and a wonderful father. I loved him madly. Yet, at the end of the day, I had to accept the choice in front of me: I could spend my time soothing his loneliness and hurt, trying to motivate him back into purpose, or I could spend my time working towards the liberation of oppressed people around the world. Both, you must understand, are expressions of love. The choice isn’t necessarily easy.

I worry that you’re seduced by the money and the life that this guy represents. I worry that you’ve been bewitched by the little bit of limelight you get being next to a man who is the actual star. Have you mistaken the cost of the gifts he likely gives you with the value he has for you? Your Papi used to say that the greatest fool is the man of color who defines his success by the White Man’s standard. I’ll add to that: if he’s a fool, then his trophy wife is to be pitied.

I’m sure my family thinks he is fantastic! I’m sure they find his cars and flash and little bit of fame very enchanting! But to me, what a heartbreak to imagine you selling yourself short to be this guy’s wife. This thug of a guy who spends all his time making music about nothing. No, not about nothing! From what I’ve heard he makes music about money. Having it. Stealing it. Needing it to validate himself. Have you forgotten that when money is what centers someone’s soul, that soul is hollow? This man is so lost he’s ashamed of his own identity—changing his name to hide! Imagine what your father would have said. A man that insecure wants marriage to mark you as his territory the way a dog pisses on a hydrant. A man that insecure will never allow you enough space to find your own way, to express your own voice.

In fact, I can’t help but feel that since you’ve met him, you already seem to have lost your way. What happened to your passion for your photography? What goals are you pursuing beyond spending all your time going where he wants to go with the people he knows?

I won’t try to convince you that this guy isn’t worthy of you. I remember being young and thinking I understood love, too. But I do have to ask questions, in the hopes that you will ask them of yourself. What are his bigger ambitions for himself? When was the last time he asked about yours? Besides your looks, does he value your mind? Does he ask your opinions in public? Does he support your curiosities in a meaningful way? What is his vision for you as a wife and a mother? What is his vision for himself as a husband and a father? Does he ask you if you want to have kids or does he just assume? Does he know that money can purchase things but not joy? What, besides being Puerto Rican, do you even have in common?

Pa’lante,

Mami





SEPTEMBER 2017





BILINGUAL





Getting her brother an invitation for the Blumenthal party had been so easy, Olga couldn’t believe how challenging procuring her own had been. Of course, Olga was not a congressperson, let alone one who was on set at Morning Joe almost as frequently as the hosts themselves. Adding to this, Olga found out via Dick’s assistant Charmaine that the new Mrs. Blumenthal was a self-declared “fan” of her brother. Indeed, a deep dive into Mrs. Blumenthal’s Instagram account—@rrriottthespian—revealed that Mrs. Blumenthal had in fact already met her brother, when they shared the stage at the Women’s March on Washington. Likely it was not a long meeting, but long enough that they had snapped a selfie together, which Mrs. Blumenthal captioned, Great politics and easy on the eyes #womensmarch #easyontheeyeshardonsexism fire emoji, fire emoji, fire emoji.