“What is the main difference between you and I?” I ask Genesis Labra.
“You’re here,” she responds.
I raise my eyebrows and laugh. Genesis is referring to the fact that I am only 20 years old and basically decided to live in Manhattan this summer because I’ve always wanted to. This is something that is far away from her Spanish culture, where her protective mother wouldn’t dare let her daughter leave home that young.
Genesis is one of the many friends I have made this summer that have contributed to the major culture shock I have experienced, but one that has truly changed my life for the better. I met Genesis at the summer camp I work at. She complimented my red lipstick as I stared in awe at her perfectly symmetrical face and arched eyebrows. Genesis has an extremely approachable, warm smile with big chocolate eyes. With her adorable personality, we hit if off immediately.
But I would soon find out what she really thought of me when we first met and how it was so strange to her that we would become so close because according to her “Girls like us don’t walk down the street together here."
She is referring to the fact that she is a Latina-American 20-year-old college girl and I am a white 20-year-old college girl. And with that, and the opposite worlds we come from, are social differences we often discuss and that she points out to me.
Genesis Labra is an incredible young woman with a story that needs to be told. I owe it to her for this interview going so well, and her enthusiasm for getting real with me.
So here we are, seated by a Cafe window, watching the rainstorm in New York City late one night. We are in Hamilton Heights, a neighborhood above Columbia University, in East Harlem. And here are the questions that I asked Genesis that night, most of which I already knew the answers to. But I asked these questions again because I believe her answers need to be shared.
Me: “So, tell me your life story. Where were you born? Start with telling people where your parents come from.”
Genesis: “Well, I was born and raised in New York City. My mom grew up in El Barrio which is Spanish for the burrow on the East Side of Manhattan, where there is the majority of Puerto Rican heritage in New York City. So did my grandma. My dad is from Mexico and he came on a boat at 16 to here [NYC]. He used to own a bodega. Now he cooks for delis and places. (One time her dad made me plantains and they were epic). My younger brother is 15. He has ADHD and bipolar disorder. My mom always has struggled with his disability and everything. He has a big piece of her heart.”
Me: “And where do you live now?”
Genesis: “My apartment, you know.”
Me: “Yes. But isn’t that the projects? Can you tell me about what living in the projects is like for you?”
Genesis: “When I was 11 I moved to the projects. A lot of people have stereotypes about the projects and about the projects in NYC. They think of drugs. But you can find those everywhere. They think of gangs. I feel my project is the safest; there are a lot of the elderly people there. It’s a very convenient area. I live between the good [Columbia U] and the quote unquote ghetto. I have more privilege than my mother in her projects. I love it. I love where I live. I love my home. I love my apartment.”
We pause.
Genesis: “Of course there are nights where you have to be careful and stuff goes on. But I’ve always felt okay where I live in.”
Growing up, Genesis started out going to a public school near the Manhattanville projects. She shared this memory with me about that first school:
Genesis: “I’ll never forget this one time when my teacher was absent and it was summer and I went to the bathroom and I walked by a classroom and an African American boy was jumping from desk to desk and there were two girls that were Hispanic writing on the walls. And the teacher was white and she was crying her eyes out because it was that bad.”
After Genesis found out she had a learning disability, her mom moved her to a special private school where she finally was able to get attention. There, she “skyrocketed” in school. She was the only one of her high school class to graduate with a real, non-IEP diploma. Her voice shook when she told me that she was the only girl out of five people to graduate with that diploma.
Me: “So what did you think about going to college when you graduated? Did you know what you wanted to do?”
Genesis: “My teachers used to tell me they didn’t see me going to real college. But I was the only one of my junior class to pass [New York standardized testing]. After noticing that I was smart my teachers started me at community college.”
Genesis often has talked about the “distractions” that she and other “city kids” faced in order stay in school. “A lot of girls I went to college and high school with have babies now.” But here is Genesis today, focused without a doubt, only a few classes left until getting her Associates degree in her dream job, fittingly, social work.
Me: “Did you always want to be a social worker?”
Genesis: “I always knew I wanted to be a social worker because of my family, I had one for learning issues, personal stuff. I always knew like it was my calling.”
Ironically, Genesis can walk to the Social Work building at Columbia University from her house. She says “I envy it and wish I could go to Columbia for Social Work."
Me: “Do you ever wish you could go to a big state school?”
Genesis: “Like yours?”
Me: “Sure.”
Genesis: “I envy those for schools that are far away and Ivy League, of course. I feel like because they have that [degree from a “good” school] they assume they are better than you and they can have whatever they want.”
Then, I ask Genesis my favorite question.
Me: “What did you think of me when you first met me?”
Genesis: “When I first met you I automatically thought you were more privileged than me, like you come from a good school that was far from home, that was goals. “
Me: “Why else did you think?”
Genesis: “I assumed Columbia girls, knowing them and seeing them around. Growing up with them always near me they were intimidating. They always seemed stuck up, cooler, richer. By observation only, that’s what I assumed... And then I met you... When I first saw you I stereotyped you that way. But then I realized we were just like each other, we were the same and had so many similarities. I’ve never had a close friend that was white... I was surprised that you barely knew me and wanted to comfort me and see that I was safe. I realized, she’s awesome and I didn’t know her!”
Me: “So, now that we’re talking about white girls, when we first met, you kept saying 'I'm like the white girl of my friend group.' (Which, by the way, I love because I love it when people make fun of me like that). “What do you mean by that?”
Genesis: “Like, my voice. The way I spoke?”
Me: “So, how do you think white college girls are different than Latina college girls?”
Genesis: Laughs and side eyes. “There are differences I feel.” Pause.
“For example, you’re here! I tell my best friend about you. She told her mom about you! That doesn’t happen! Because that is not something that Hispanic moms would let their daughter do. The whole thing about Hispanic culture [is] you should stay in the house until you get married. That’s how they see it!”
Me: “What is your idea of happiness and a dream life?” Genesis often talks about living in a nice high rise apartment in downtown Manhattan one day.
Genesis: “I want to have my social work job. I hope I’ve met someone and I live with them. I want to be happy; growing up there is so much pressure to be a certain way and with social media, and being a teen. Deep down, yeah, I felt happy, but I have moments like I wasn’t pretty enough and I wasn’t skinny enough. Things everyone goes through. Still now I have those issues. I feel like every young girl in there 20s goes through that.”
Me: “So what is your definition of happiness?”
Genesis: “My definition of happiness is being happy with you, choices you’ve made in life, what you’ve accomplished. That's what I think happiness is. Not everyone finds his or her true love you know? I want to find someone that makes my heart skip a beat but not everyone does. I want to find happiness without that.”
So we talk about the fun stuff, boys.
Genesis: “Right now in my current point of life guys are sucky and irrelevant. They only want one thing.” I nod. We both roll our eyes. “And then when they get it, they act like we don’t exist. Guys have a fear of girls being smarter than them. It’s a threat, so boys have harder time building relationships.”
Me: “Is it important to you to only date Hispanic guys?”
Genesis: “I don’t care about the race of the guy I marry. But I have only dated Hispanic guys because they’re in my circle. White guys never approach [Hispanic girls like me and my friends]. But they call you exotic behind your back if they even do approach you. I have a friend that only dates white guys. I don’t know why.” I feel. “All guys are universal though. All guys are a**holes. All guys are stupid.”
Me: "So, what do you want people to know about you from this interview? What do you want them to see that they wouldn’t see about you from walking down the street?"
Genesis: “I'm really kind, I care for others, when people see me I want them to see someone that is a well-known member of society--that I'm not what they think.” Genesis has a hard time explaining this with words, but I know what she means, aka Donald Trump’s mindset. [They think] Hispanic girls are loud--I'm not, I'm really quiet.”
Me: “Since we’re talking about ethnic stereotypes... What do you think about Donald Trump?” Genesis recoiled and exclaims, “Are you kidding me?!” She is at a loss for words, frazzled for the first time in the whole interview.
Me: “I know, I know what you think--just give me some words!”
Genesis: “Well I mean I think he’s an asshole. I mean are you serious? I don’t understand.”
Me: “Will you vote in the election?”
Genesis: “Hell yes.”
Me: “For who?”
Genesis: “I’m not sure. I’m a Democrat.”
She sighs and looks out the window. I wait.
Genesis: “I’ll never forget that moment when I saw the moment on TV when Donald Trump said those things about Mexicans and building the wall. I saw my dad’s face and he looked like he was going to cry.”
Okay, now I feel like I’m going to cry. I’ve never heard this before.
Genesis: “Mexican heritage has been here for so long. Comparing people to racists? Borders? What? No. The fact that there are people who want him? Are you f***** serious? My mom compares him to the anti-Christ.”
****
Genesis Labra once told me that me going to college away from home is “so American” in her eyes. This is the one thing that I don’t agree with. Her life is just as American as mine. Her answers during this interview reflect the universal hopes and dreams of the young girls of America. We want the same things in life, but she will just have to go about it a different way than me because of the way our society dysfunctionally lives.
There are things that happen all the time when we are together that remind me of this. When we shop together, she gets ID'd when she uses a credit card and I don’t. When we got pedicures before the interview, someone asked me if I wanted a “spa” pedicure but not her. Although I was raised to be an educated, aware woman, I did not notice the tangible extent of my white privilege until Genesis pointed it out. Perhaps because we are so similar, yet so different, this is what gave Genesis the power over anyone else to impact me the way she did.
Genesis also told me this during the interview, with the grace, poise, and maturity that she so beautifully embodies when she speaks:
“I want my kids to have a better life than me. That’s what been going on with my family and my grandmother. My mom and grandma got stuck in the cycle of poverty. Because they got stuck in school. My mom got stuck with something- The culture of poverty. I want to do everything by myself but not struggle. I don’t want to live here.” She points across the street, to the New York City Public Housing.
But I know Genesis, so I don’t worry that much about her. Because I know that a girl with the kind of drive and intellect she has is going big places, just as I am going big places, and I can’t wait to watch it happen for us, together.
