I’m glad that I don’t drive a brand-new car. I’m ecstatic that I wasn’t prom queen, and that I don’t buy brand name products. I’m happy that there are people out there that hate me. I love that I’m not as skinny as some of my teachers, and that my right foot is bigger than my left foot. I am proud of my family’s heritage--does it matter that my father was born in Mexico, yet I am as American as they come? There may be people thinking that I am poor for not having a new car, that I am ugly for weighing more than 110 pounds, and that I am a disgrace to both America and Mexico. Clearly, these people have been deceived; their opinions and thoughts are falsified by a hypothesis I call the “Screw-You-I’m-Jealous” Theory. This Theory mainly dictates that jealousy takes place when a person with less (financially, physically, etc.) than another is happier than the person with more, which, causes the person with more to hate the less fortunate. To fully examine this Theory in it’s entirety, one must first analyze what the other side of the street believes.
Have you ever been embarrassed to drive an ugly car? Perhaps I should ask, have you ever had to drive an ugly car? In any case, if you have ever had the unpleasant task of driving an ugly car, you shall clearly understand what implications this has. Suddenly, you receive the treatment of being inferior. You are mediocre. The motive behind the people that believe this is: if you cannot afford a Honda or a Cadillac, then you must be lazy or incapable of working as good as ‘they’ do. Also, if you’ve never been nominated to the homecoming court, or if you’ve never won a beauty pageant, then, instantaneously, you must be ugly. In ‘their’ opinion, you certainly aren’t as beautiful as they are. Therefore, this makes you secondary to them-a bean standing by the side of peas and corn. Consequently, these are the beliefs of those people that may find one poor for not having a new car, hideous for not being a model, and subordinate for not having parents born in the same country as you.
On the other hand, these thoughts and opinions have been created by the “Screw- You-I’m-Jealous” Theory. For example, when my car broke down I was forced to drive a huge, ugly, 1974, off-white, scratched-up, Ford Truck. The vehicle is a monster; it sounds like a lion growling when you press on the accelerator. When people see this truck, they are inclined to think that I was too poor to buy a good car, and had to settle down with a truck that should be impounded simply for looking repulsive. However, the only reason I had been using this truck was because my car was getting worked on. It was not because I was poor or cheap, it was because of conditions I had no control over. It wasn’t as if I told my car to get a crack in the radiator head! Anyhow, the Theory takes place when people see me driving the truck, fully content (knowing that I will get my car back soon!), and they suddenly believe that I am more happier than they are. When I’m singing along with the radio in an ugly vehicle, they think that I’m having more fun than them when they’re driving their nice 1999 Honda Civic. The “Screw-You” part of the theory is created because of a fear of not being as content as the person with less is. They cannot stand this feeling, and therefore hate you, which brings along jealousy. But, this Theory doesn’t stop at a person’s wallet.
If you do not buy Levi 501’s, wear Nike socks with Adidas shoes, or outline your eyebrows, then God forbid you! That is their view on the matter. By way of illustration, let us examine my weight. I weigh more than certain English teachers at school, and I weigh more than 110 pounds because I don’t starve myself. I have freckles and my teeth aren’t straight either, which, means that I’m not physically beautiful. However, what if I like suffering from ‘love handles’ and ‘thunder thighs’? What if I enjoy playing “Connect The Dots” with my freckles?, and smiling with all of my teeth pointing in different directions? Is there anything wrong with this? No. However, ‘they’ have their interpretation of you. You can’t have flab, freckles, or monstrous teeth and enjoy it at the same time! That’s preposterous, isn’t it? No. Hence, the “Screw-You-I’m-Jealous” Theory takes place again. If you have these vices and are contented and delighted, then they think you must be having more fun than them. They think “You must have more than I do, and I’m jealous of you, but I can’t let you know I’m jealous of me, so, I hate you. Screw you!” The Theory works in any cases of prejudices and racism including homosexuality!* (Note: I've learned my lesson about prejudicism against homosexuals, and let me say that I was stupid, idiotic, and afraid when I was homophobic. Homophobia is clearly another case of the "Screw You I'm Jealous Theory")
I have a typical ‘white-girl’ accent. I don’t speak perfect Spanish, and sometimes I have difficulty rolling my R’s. Nevertheless, I am proud that my father was born in Sinaloa, was only educated until the sixth grade, and in general, I simply love all of my Spanish heritage. Yet, today I was called a pocha. This is some sort of racial slur, meaning that I’m inferior because I don’t speak Spanish, and my father is of Mexican decent. My hypothesis is still valid in this case as well. The person that called me this is from Tijuana, and he struggles with the English that he is forced to hear. He must be angry that he is forced to go to school, unlike Tijuana. However, there is no need for him to be jealous of me because I am content with living in America. He has been consumed by jealousy and then begins to hate me as a cause of this jealous rage. The “Screw-You-I’m-Jealous” Theory holds water under nearly every predicament.
We all are victims to this Theory once in a while, however, taking it to extremes are what we must aim to stop. We must not stop and think “I can’t believe she drove that car to school; it’s so old and ugly!” We cannot hate another person for drawing their eyebrows on their face, and we can’t detest those who don’t speak English or Spanish. If we hate these people for the choices they make, we will end up hating ourselves. I’m glad I don’t drive a shining new car. I’m pleased that I don’t look like a super model, and that I don’t turn all the guys heads when I walk by. I absolutely love being a gringa. But...I wouldn’t love these things if it wasn’t for the fact that I know other people are being held captive by the good old “Screw-You-I’m-Jealous” Theory.
I remember wearing dresses. I remember you explaining life; how the sun came up in the East, and how everything that goes up must come down. I remember how you hugged me; your arms, they spread around me like the wings of an eagle. And, I was warm inside. But, all of a sudden, one day, you were gone; you never came back.
An empty girl sat on the stool. She cried to herself and told herself that one day everything would be all right.
I remember hearing from you occasionally. I aged without a mother. Nobody explained what hap¬ pens to a girl when she reaches the age of thirteen. I look at my friends as they hug their parents: they seem so content. Yet, there I am, crying inside with all this hollowness.
The empty girl begins to get angry. Why had all this happened to her? Had she forgotten to be a good girl? There would never be a day where everything was all right.
I heard from you yesterday. You’re losing it, aren’t you? It is as if your heart is running on empty,and the spark that gives one life is flickering like a light bulb preparing to fade out. We are all trees. Empty inside, but alive outside. But now, winter has came and gone, and you aren’t spreading your leaves. If I hug you, will you bloom?
The empty girl prepares to get off her stool, but a force holds her down. No matter how hard she tries, it isn’t working. She is stuck there. She is Macbeth-trying to escape reality. Will Lady Macbeth be able to console him?
I’ve decided what I’m going to do. I know my last soliloquy to you. I fear not your reaction, for I am the one who fears my reaction! Do I dare hug you? Will my arms turn into the wings of an eagle as yours once did?
The girl escapes somehow. She does not know where to go. Yet, she shall not hide, but, rather, let the world see her. Besides, empty, she is not!
I see you now. Behind the years, the pain, and the tears, you lie there. Swollen and angry, I see you now! I wish you could, no, I wish I could hold you, and tell you how much I love you. But it will not happen. My arms do not know how to fly. You never taught me. Trying to fly now would be suicide.
She comes upon a cliff. Her stool sits, beckoning her to return. She sees it and wants to return, but she notices how detestable it is. It’s a rock in a field of jewels. She walks toward it, and marvels at the pain it has given her.
I cry now. I was once seduced by the same drug that has murdered you. But, I keep letting you back in. Does anybody feel what I feel right now? Nobody has hurt me like you have, and nobody ever will again. Care for me please. Just give me a hug; I can’t give you one. I need you to give me shade.
The empty girl picks up the stool and holds it above her head. She shows the world her victory, but she is not finished yet. She carries the stool, reluctantly, to the edge of the cliff.
The final moments have came. I have no more tears for you, mother. You must hug me before the last leaf falls. A wind came up from nowhere, and now... Dear God! You have hugged me. Could this be Lady Macbeth’s last entrance?
She felt all the muscles in her shoulders vibrate as she threw the stool off of the cliff. The girl raised her head. The woman stared into the horizon.
Lady Macbeth has exited
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