On The Border

I was born and raised in Miami, a colorful oceanside city which borders the rest of the State of Florida.

As a child, I could be found on any given night of the week running the halls of any number of Miami art galleries. If it were midnight on a Tuesday and you saw a 9 year-old sitting at a bar on South Beach, it was likely me. I would drink whatever juice concoctions appealed to me as I tried my best to impress my newly assigned “babysitter”, a model and part-time bartender. With a mother immersed in the social art scene, South Beach was my playground. By middle school, I would skip class and take the train to the beach. As an adult, I would go the beach and my favorite bar, religiously, every Sunday. No matter the weather anywhere else in Miami, it was always sunny at the beach. South Beach is home to a colorfully diverse international community, and yet it is anchored not by the differences of its inhabitants, but their humane similarities. A humans’ primal interest in seeking pleasure was the inspiring breath that gave life to the inhabitants of my first home. No one cared what you did or who you did, as long as you didn’t hurt others and you paid your tab. It is a community of people who respect the individuality of each persons’ unique definition of bliss and your right to follow it.

My current hometown is sprawled along a mountainside and borders the United States and Mexico. El Paso, Texas is where I have experienced my birth into adulthood, an albeit figurative border between an old life and a new one.

A person’s birth into adulthood is timed by those who follow astrology by your “Saturn Return.” This transition occurs when Saturn, the planet of discipline and restriction, returns to its original position in the cosmos as it was placed on the day of your birth. Taking the planet generally 29 years to complete this transit, it is predicted that at the onset of its occurrence, the ruler of Karma, Saturn, will cause us to shred our childlike fantasies and force us to face reality.

Unknowingly aligned with the universe, I joined the military at the onset of my Saturn Return. Today I am unsure of exactly all the factors inspiring my need for change, but I remember ignoring friends and family who thought this “Miami Hippie Princess” wouldn’t be able to handle the strict obedience nor the physical demands of being a Soldier.

As a Soldier, I spent years adjusting my speech, perfecting my bun, and cultivating what is known in the agency as “military bearing.” Military bearing, is driven by the strict rudimentary structure of an old military. It should demonstrate stoicism, but ignores the crucial necessity of self-reflection. Instead, it relies on a rank structure and power to create a disillusioned environment that is repressively frigid. Military culture, today, is an everchanging balancing act between an old system and a new one. A system, led only by heterosexual white men, now must learn to acquiesce and embrace the demands of diversity. The strict discipline and obedience required by the Military from its Soldiers often leaves common sense at the door. As an example, one of the precautions against sexual assault is the accepted norm that Soldiers will not touch each other, period. If my colleagues blouse collar unraveled or a random hair were to stray from her neatly set bun, before helping her, I would ask; “Do I have permission to fix/touch…?" To some like my sister, this may be read as an ideal protection of personal space, but in practice it really is much colder. One day as I sat on a dental exam chair, the dental hygienist laid her hands on my cheeks to arrange the positioning of mouth for the dentist. Tears welted into my eyes -- this was my first time being touched by another human in 4 months.

If you let it, the military will teach you humility and remind you the importance of a hug. I personally had an invaluable experience as a Soldier. I learned how to do push-ups, I learned how to drive, I got married and I also got divorced, and I became a lawyer. The military stationed me here, at Fort Bliss.

Even though, I ultimately decided to leave the military, I decided to stay here, in El Paso, Texas --by the border. A border town very different from my first home, but appropriate for who I am becoming.