I don’t have memories of my mom telling me to act ladylike, but I do have such memories of my grandmother (my abuela). I often went to visit my abuela during Summer breaks in Puerto Rico when I was too young to be on my own the whole Summer. She is a traditional 1950s housewife. She only lets Estée Lauder products touch her body. She lived on an island near the beach her whole life and doesn’t know how to swim. All three of her daughters had curly hair and she forced them to get it chemically straightened, which ruined their curl pattern. She’s practically bald now from having this done to herself. Once when I lamented, after seeing a photo of her in a gorgeous crinoline gown, that she hadn’t kept any of her clothes from the ‘50s and ‘60s she said, “They wouldn’t have fit you anyway. I was much thinner than you.” For reference, my BMI is 19 so this was a statement. I still always feel judged by her. She is nicer to me if I look very put together and feminine.

One Summer, my cousin and I were sent by abuela to a “pagent academy” it was a bit like what (I imagine) a finishing school to be. We were instructed on how to sit at a table, the flatware to use for each course, the proper way to even bring a spoon to our lips when eating soup, walking with a book on our head—essentially instructing us on feminine kinesics. This little day camp was put on by a former Miss Universe who we were meant to regard with awe because of her poise and beauty. At the time—I believe my cousin, Elisabet, and I were about 7 or 8—we thought it was silly but also wanted to do well. The only attendees were girls, and I was vaguely aware that only girls competed in pageants. I don’t remember if I asked why this was, but had I done so I’m sure abuela would have just said that “it’s only for girls.” Such an explanation would have indicated that girls are very different from boys and that there are limits to what people can do based on their gender. This feels like a very backward idea to plant in a child’s head now. I recall Elisabet’s younger brother, Arnie, was upset he couldn’t come with us. He was the only boy in a group of cousins that were all within a few years of age so he played whatever games we girls wanted to play. This often included games like Pretty Pretty Princess, a board game (if you can believe it) where you win jewelry at various stages and the winner got a tiara. Arnie won this game more often than not. We also played dress up a lot wearing our mom’s sequined tube tops as skirts and trying to walk in their heels. Arnie participated in all of these activities. He would later go on to become a Marine and have his worldview corrupted by three tours of duty in the Iraq War.