Because I Am the Stranger

PerfecT, with a capital 'T'.

College is a nightmare for everyone involved. Parents hate paying for it, professors hate grading 20-page essays, students hate writing them while balancing work, social life, and love life (or lack thereof). Not to mention, everyone just wants an occasional moment to breathe, eat, and sleep a few consecutive hours. Why do people continue this vicious cycle of trucking on through high school, sobbing over standardized tests, and dedicating every waking moment of the next four years (or more) of one’s young adult life to obtain a college degree? For starters, that’s what the boomers have been preaching to us since forever.

Maybe my parents aren’t literal boomers, being born in the early ’70s, but their traditional, conservative views make the younger generations continue the trend of using the label as an insult. When I say they are traditional, I mean they are Traditional, capital 'T'. Middle-upper-class, White, college-educated, and church-going folks who prefer red over blue and the red, white, and blue over any other flag, except maybe the Gadsen flag. With a crew of six kids resulting from only one marriage, they have rather strict expectations for how their children are to behave, think, and represent themselves. There have been many reminders over the years of no dating until high school, and only then if you plan to marry the person you are dating. And what would be the point in getting married if you couldn’t support yourself and your family and your aging parents and the community and the local church? So in the meantime, focus on a four-point-oh GPA.

“Stay in school, don’t do drugs, go to a good college so you can get a good job, and you can keep up with the Joneses.”

Sound familiar? Unfortunately, this rat-race mentality has trickled down to Gen Z (that’s me) and it just doesn’t cut it anymore. My friends and colleagues have all conceded that a college degree is practically worthless in 2021. Well, it’s not worthless, considering the average amount of student loan debt racked up per person (nearly $30,000, yikes!) But college degrees are worthless in the sense that getting one costs a ton (or 15 tons) of money, but its value once in the hands of the graduate is so depreciated we might as well consider them new cars driven off the lot. In short, college degrees are so plentiful that supply and demand have been thrown out of whack. Most entry-level positions require a minimum of two years of experience working in the field and at least a four-year degree. Everyone wants the thing that used to be super special and sought after, and now everyone’s got them and no one will take them.

I had been indoctrinated that college was the only thing that would make me successful. It was the only right path and the only logical way to start an adult life. Especially living under the bubble of my parents’ roof, there was no fresh air to breathe or fresh points of view, either. As the boomers also liked to preach, kids should be seen and not heard, so I kept my head down, toed the line, and set the perfect example for my younger siblings.

But then I fell in love.

Record scratch - Online dating was my peephole into the world from the very sheltered clifftop nest where I was raised. I stretched my wings, tiptoed close to the edge, then threw my parachute out of the nest and jumped after it, hoping to catch it on the way down. My parents didn’t like the prospects of an “older” Mexican man with “no education” and no American identity, cultural or otherwise, but I pursued the relationship against my parents’ wishes and met him in secret for months. When I turned myself in out of guilt, my father tried to break us up in a rage. From there, I slipped quietly through the last six months of college and sorted through the tangle of half-baked plans in my head to run away. Then, I dodged my father’s threats of police and the second amendment to stop me, escaped the clutches of my disapproving parents, my paramour picked me up in his Camaro, and we booked it out of the state. We survived hellish financial struggles and opposition from my family to revel in our private engagement. I let myself get settled as best as I could and began the job hunt for work as a therapist. Without a master’s degree though, a BA in Psychology is worth about as much as the words “I’m sorry” from a rebellious child to her mother’s shattered heart.

“What about grad school? There won’t be any opportunities for you without a degree!”

“It’s so stupid of you to think you can just run away and get married and be happy. You will make no money in that tiny town!”

My parents were honest, harsh even, but they couldn’t deter my spirit. I know what I want now and David is it. There were hearts broken on all sides and things felt crazy for a couple of months until the storm calmed. We still feel like everything might be spinning out of control, but now my world has been turned really upside down. I’m giving up my parents’ dream for me of becoming a therapist to be a stay-at-home mom and housewife.

New dream

David and I have a new dream. We dream that we could pretend the world hasn’t gone insane and everything we want for our lives is still the norm, even the expectation that society would have had for a young couple not too many years ago. A traditional marriage, a Christian family, with traditional gender roles, and morals based on the golden rule: love people. We want to blend our cultures, teach our future children his native Spanish and my native English, and homeschool them so they develop their faith. But we want to do all this without physical support from his family, who lives in Mexico, and without any kind of support from my family, who is wholly and totally against our being together. We might be wildly different people, but we both learned from a young age to survive on our own and manage difficult lives without help. So cheers to sticking to the status quo! We are plowing ahead and forging our own trails now, especially as we have ignored all the dissent around us and, with Father Jeff’s help, focused on putting God first.

Retreat, but not backing off

We recently chose to wake up at 5:45 am (on a Saturday!) to drive an hour and a half to Little Rock to attend the nine-hour pre-cana retreat for marriage preparation. There might have been a time when David complained “this is why people don’t get married,” but now he agrees all the hullabaloo is for the best. It would have been easier to get married in court, or Vegas, and avoid all the drama of color-coordinating napkins with neckties, but we want to be able to give our best selves to each other now and forever. Because of that, we fueled up at McDonald’s and jumped in feet first with a gung-ho attitude to the retreat. After snoozing through lecturas y lecturas y lecturas, the air seemed to stand still as everyone’s attention span had been zapped. The couples and presenters alike were feeling pretty sluggish by 2 pm, after a hearty lunch of burritos, chips, and soda, so the tension that accompanied the announcement of a new activity brought us to attention. We filed Squid Games-style into the hallway, looking around wondering how we would meet our impending doom.

The game goes that all the couples stand in two lines, back-to-back with their significant others without touching. When the facilitator reads a statement, each person decides if they agree or disagree. Those who agree will stay in place, but those who disagree take a step forward. Then, everyone turns to face their partner to see how they answered. What the facilitator didn’t tell us (or maybe he did, my tired brain wasn’t listening anymore) was that if someone answered differently from the majority, he was going to have that person explain his or her reasoning. Oh man, let the games begin. Some of the statements were easy and unanimous; “I think it’s important to go to mass every weekend” was a piece of cake as all the couples were in agreement and nobody moved. Sometimes, a few people disagreed or simply misinterpreted the statement and then, in embarrassment, had to change their positions, but there were two times when I was the only one who disagreed!

Lone wolf

I'm a born and bred White American woman, so naturally, Spanish is not my first language.

One statement that left me the odd man out was “I think it is important for me to have alone time.” We could get deep into my neuropathy, or we can just agree that “I have issues and codependency is one of them” and move along. The facilitator called me out and asked,

“Young lady, why do you disagree?” I abashedly answered in the best Spanish I could muster,

“I don’t feel like we need to be physically apart to do our own activities. We can be in the same room, or just the same house, but doing our own hobbies. We don’t need to be in separate buildings necessarily to have alone time” David chimed in (who, funnily enough, agreed with the crowd initially),

“Yeah, like, she likes to do art in the same room or just watch me while I do exercise.” It’s a good thing he’s used to being an entertainer because I am horribly uncomfortable being the life of a party or in the spotlight. Everyone laughed and we moved back into the start position. I then mumbled,

“I only have a finite time on this Earth, I don’t want to be separated from you, my love.” David smiled and the lady next to him lowered her eyes to avert my gaze. She was embarrassed to have been eavesdropping, but I know she was moved by my declaration. I watched a live-action remake of The Grinch before my eyes as she sighed quietly and her heart grew three sizes that day.

The facilitator continued with a few more statements. Then came my next fish-out-of-water moment.

“I think the housework should be split evenly between us.” Again everyone remained in place like soldiers and did an about-face on command. I was the only one who disagreed; even David had his feet locked in place. Boy, the facilitator was quick to put me front and center again.

“Why do you disagree?” I paused for a beat, took a breath, and explained,

“Well, so... I don’t want to work...” An eruption of laughter drowned out my voice, and I rethought my opening, feeling silly. But I shook off the stage fright and continued,

“David will go to work instead to support our future family.” Gaining steam, I forged ahead, “In that case, how could I expect him to go to work all day and then come home and do an equal amount of chores as me? I want to be the housewife; I want to take care of our kids, and I will take on the responsibility of the house, as well.”

Realization

An impressed silence and a quiet “Ohhh...awww…” moved in like a warm front after the shower of judgmental laughter. I've always had a talent for looking confident when I truly feel terrified, so I straightened my back and dared not look away from any gaze that met mine. Then, applause like thunderclaps rained down on me and I smiled shyly at David who was humbled by my commitment to sacrifice. I was grateful to hide behind his broad shoulders as everyone returned to their seats after the exercise ended. The rest of the afternoon passed with the two of us volunteering many more times for more public humiliation. At the end of the night, one of the presenters caught David and me as we were heading out the door. She held us by our elbows and whispered,

“Thanks for coming, you two were great today. I knew from the moment you both walked in you were the perfect couple.” With a beaming smile she departed and I walked on clouds out to the car, hand in hand with the perfect man.

Because I am the stranger in this world that abandoned tradition, I have finally found my calling.