Color 3: gold

Memories that occurred before I can remember are interesting to hear. One that comes up often is the one about the swollen lip. I basically sucked face with my sister. No, no it's not what you think... I was a newborn and my sister -- who is ten years older than me -- loved the thought of being a mom. So as her new 'toy' she decided to sneak me out of my crib in the middle of the night. She snuggled me to sleep. She wakes up the next morning to find me still in bed with her, silently sleeping but she also notices that her lower lip is unusually swollen. I had sucked her bottom lip all night and that's why no one heard a peep from me! I think that's one of the few stories you can tell about me being silent. Alright, so the main plot of the story is not silence. The point is being quiet is not a trait I posses.

It has been said that silence is golden. There are tons of sayings and wise adages that promote silence. I guess the common point of view is that being silent makes you better or wiser. If you do a quick search on bible.com for verses with the word silence you come up with 34 entries. That does not even include implied silence like the ones about refraining the tongue and speaking out of turn. We are presented with a million rules in our lifetimes about when and how to speak, what language is appropriate and politically correct. I am surprised my first word was not "shhhh" or "no." When it comes to talking there are rules about voice volume, tone, implied language, sensitivity, gender influence and its double standards and projection. To top it all off what you say is defined greatly by your body language. I am surprised there aren't more people that have taken a vow of silence. There's just too much pressure!

But where would we be without people that spoke up? The most remarkable people I know are those who have not been afraid of words and the truth they carry. No one said it was easy to live out loud. Could you imagine the world without the words of Mandela, Kennedy, Plato and Descartes? Ok, so most people are not going to come up with a remarkable, groundbreaking concept, but I don't think we realize how many vital things go unsaid and the impact our silence can have on those around us.

I have seen another side to silence. It could be used as the most powerful weapon to hurt, deceive, manipulate and demean a person. A symbol of apathy and disdain. Silence can hurt in ways that a millions words cant. I also see the side of silence that prevents us from living life to the fullest. Think of the many people that wait until their death bed to say what they feel, to tell someone they love them. Some people regret never saying goodbye or I'm sorry.

I refuse to be one of those people.

I have gotten into tons of trouble in my life for saying what I think, speaking out of turn, speaking inappropriately and telling every detail of my life to anyone who is willing to hear. Here's how I see words. They are wonderfully liberating. Their scary and challenging to manage but a jolt for the soul. It's hard as hell to try to put them together perfectly, but who cares?! The words we share bind us in a way that nothing else can. If we speak out of candor and honesty refraining from using them as weapons, the world will open up its doors in ways we can never imagine. Fear of words has chained us to a repressed existence.

I am challenged by what I say every day. The more I open my mouth to speak, the better I feel I need to be in order to utter them. It's as if I see inside myself as I speak. I learn from the conversations I have with others. I learn about me and the world around me. I realize new and exciting things because of what I read and hear. Nothing comes close to the feeling I get from connecting with someone when I talk to them. I can die today and know that I said my piece. I can die happy knowing my family and friends know I love them. I can also die happy knowing I stood for my right to say the truth no matter how hard it was to hear.

In my book, gold is the color of words not of silence. The beauty of words is how precious they are in defining every color in our lives. Silence may make you appear mysterious, intelligent, wise and smarter than others -- and maybe you are-- but in a lot of cases I think it's a cop out. People who rarely speak are probably just afraid of something. In recent times I have taken a vow to stop living my life in the monochromatic palette of fear and guilt. Words are one of the avenues I will use to explore and enjoy the many other colors life has to offer. Black and white are there to fall back on and shades of gray are for mild adventuring. The million other colors available are the ones I want to bathe in. Talk to me and let me see, what color are you today?

Color 2: untainted clarity

I remember listening about Jesus when I was a little girl. Whether you believe everything they wrote about him or not, you must admit he was quite the character. As far as role models go, he's hard to top. My religious inclinations these days have very little to do with my admiration for him. I love his story past the dogmas, ideologies and denominations. 

To illustrate my view imagine him in the modern era. I imagine he would be a world traveler who carries all of his belongings in his backpack. His hair in dreads with the ends burned from the sun. He would sleep in bus stations and hostels. He would probably have tons of followers on Twitter and hundreds of friends on Facebook. He would be Obama-like in his gift of speech and have the benevolence of Bono. His message of hope and grace would give hope to the oppressed and to those who suffer. He would probably hang out with gays, swingers, lawyers, accountants, politicians and beggars without a need to differentiate himself or identify with any of them. He would not be a private man. He would live his life in the open, unafraid of the tabloids or reality TV. The patriot act and such fear-influenced laws and rules would never sway him from sharing his radical opinions or beliefs. He would stand up for what's right and just, not what fits into a political agenda. His life would inspire many to look beyond consumerism and materialism. He would challenge us to construct a Utopian society. He would challenge the oppression of religion and he would be allergic to the status quo. 

I listened to his story. At twelve he challenged the church elders. He destroyed the store fronts of merchants who set up shop in front of his synagogue. Quite the character, certainly not the type of guy that blends in with the rest. As I heard these stories, I realized something. If it was ok for him to be different, it was ok for me too. He was my definition of cool. A character trait that really spoke to me was his ability to open his heart, mind and spirit to all who approached him. He lived fearless of rejection and pain. His end on this earth was quite tragic as we all know. But what a way to live, how exhilarating! 

The source of my desire to let it all out is not fully evident to me. I consider the lines of communication permanently open. I am an open book. Transparency without fear is quite liberating, I saw that in him. The world is so accustomed to fear and insecurity that it's hard for us to all be truly connected. I want to see the world and let the world see me clearly untainted by fear. It has been said that fear and love are opposites. If the message we were to learn from this interesting person was love, then there's no room for fear. Open your heart and mind to others, you will be surprised how the treasures far surpass the disappointments. 

Color 1: leopard print

What business do fundamentalist Christians have to put a 1-year old in a leopard-print bikini? Although I do look freaking adorable in that picture, I can't answer that question myself. This is a perfect example of the mixed messages I received as a child. This is why I have an uncanny ability to adapt to the oddest and most unexpected environments with ease. I have no one definition for myself or my tastes.

The Colombian culture is and has always been obsessed with external beauty. For this reason, growing up in a matriarchal family like mine was challenging. I was surrounded by women (on my mom's side) who spent hours working on looking great. Weekly mani-pedis, biweekly hair trims and uniform fashion sense was the norm. They had techniques to shave split ends and make hair shiny with crude oil. Yes, CRUDE OIL! They spent every gathering criticizing and competing with each other. Not one party lacked the weight conversation. "Your too fat!" "You're too bony, have some beans." No one ever really won the secret beauty pageant. It was awkward and mean-spirited. My mom told me a story about these women crowning her the queen of garbage when she was little. Who does that?! In a country obsessed with beauty queens, that was the lowest insult anyone could give a kid. The pressure to be pretty was immense. But the prettier you were the worst it was for you. You would then be targeted by all the other insecure not-so-cute ones in the family ready to pounce on any mistake you made. They were like hyenas waiting for their share of the zebra, salivating for their turn to tear your fashion mistake to pieces.

On the other hand, we attended a church were some women only wore ankle-sweeping skirts and rarely shaved or cut their hair. These women had fussy mustaches, arm-pit bushes, butt-cheek-kissing hair and the sense of style of potatoes. I watched them in awe as they convulsed on the filthy concrete floor with complete abandon. I would stare at their lipstick-less lips utter gibberish and their shadow-less lids flutter over their whitened eyes. Women who act like this probably have no idea who Coco Chanel is and why she liked the number 5 (that's not a pun on their ability to skip the deodorant step of grooming). My church was so strict and my family was so into it, I heard stories about my grandma tying my older siblings to the bed when they misbehaved during Sunday service. These being my first memories of church had a long-lasting impression. As I grew older we moved to different churches who had different doctrines and focused on different laws in the Bible. Although some considered themselves charismatic, they were still fixated on a specific set of rules and social norms as much as the fundamentalist Pentecostals that attended the church I was born in. They may have allowed women to wear pants but they made it their full time job to meddle in people's personal lives to tell them how to live it!

Defying logic, two opposite poles lived happily in one being. I lived by the rules of beauty and bible. I have always been able to follow advice. I never looked to rebel to one or the other. My mother spoke, I listened. My sister scolded me, I straightened up. I walked the arduous path of a martyr while following the latest trend in fashion. I obsessed about my daily devotional and fitting in with the cool crowd. I'm a Libra, that's the only way this makes sense (as you can see, fashion is not my only vice, I also like astrology). I was able to balance it all with a smile on my face. Now it all makes sense, a golden base with brown spots all over. I was born to be a sunny girl with spots of darkness. Said spots are not flaws or blemishes. They blend in on a sea of yellow contentment providing some depth and interest to an otherwise basic color.

I say, allow yourself a leopard print once in a while. Allow yourself to be free to have two distinctively different personalities. Never allow anyone to tell you it's a flaw or that it does not make any sense. What would a leopard be without its spots? And what would we be if everything about ourselves made perfect sense? If spots make sense on a yellow cat to create a magnificent leopard, a hard-core Christian can be allowed to healthily obsess about fashion and beauty. If there's a balance in it all and it all comes together to create some happiness? Let it flow and prance freely across the open spaces.