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Kicked Out of the Bank: When Rejection Suddenly Strikes You and Your Family
A few years into Baja living, my husband learned to roll with the inconvenient punches, knew exactly how to pay all the bills in person, and understood the cultural norms. But of all the places we visited in the city, going to a Mexican bank never felt fun. Between 230 cars jockeying for 13 parking spaces, sketchy holes in the sidewalks and a general feeling of being a tad nervous carrying too much cash, I preferred to stay in the car. Or at home. At least their banks had real police officers packin’ heat at the front door. None of this rent-a-cop packin’ snacks nonsense you find in the States. …
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A Bark, a Whistle, and the Woman Behind the White
When a car of teen boys drove by and one of the confident losers barked, I secretly cringed, kept walking and felt something die inside. I didn’t need Seventeen magazine to tell me I wasn’t in the running; we who weren’t natural beauties already knew. My awkward teenage self turned a bit inward that day. I questioned more, doubted more, hurt more. Stupid memories stay with me longer than they probably should, but here we are. Two-and-a-half decades later and I can still hear his voice. I now live in a Latin-American country though. I am a pale version of the beautiful brown humans surrounding my kids,…
