Latinos Can Definitely Relate To All Of These PostSecrets Confessions
In a world where we only see the filtered best moments of our friends lives on social media, PostSecret has thrived in filling an intimacy void in our society. For years, my Sunday paper has been refreshing PostSecret’s blog page, which incidentally is the most visited ad-free blog on the internet. In politics, in love, in life, it’s easy to feel like we don’t belong, especially as brown people raised with competing immigrant vs assimilation values.
Behold, all the PostSecrets that fill the identity void for Latinos. I don’t know if these are written by Latinos, but it sure does feel like they’re written for us. You may laugh and you may cry, but you’ll feel a little less alone after reading some of these secrets.
The use of Neymar in this secret is pretty spot on.
Neymar is one of the best (?) soccer players in the world right now but we can’t get the image of him flailing on the ground out of our heads. That’s what makes this secret so spot on.
This is for the grandparents out there who play every time.
For me, growing up Latino meant growing up very well aware of the weekly lottery draw and praying to Saint Anthony or whoever was on that altar in the closet for the miracle of winning the lotto. One of the saddest moments in a family gathering is realizing that everyone forgot to play the lottery.
Whose mami wrote this secret?
Catastrophizing may not be a uniquely Latinx experience, but it sure feels familiar. Our parents are alway the first to tell you about an accident or use the phrase “cuando me muere” when you aren’t doing everything to help her in that moment.
Admit it. We’ve all been a little judgmental of people we see in our day-to-day lives.
When I went to the mall with my mom cuando era niña, it wasn’t to shop. It was to get a cafecito and “people watch.” The shopping lists is just more evidence.
The truth of this secret is anyone’s guess.
I know. You’re thinking La Llorona, but other people are commenting on the Instagram post wondering if that middle schooler lied to their therapist.
An offering for the afterlife is really specific.
To be fair, other cultures and religions believe in an afterlife and honor those who have died with offerings and tributes. However, Mexican culture has an entire holiday dedicated to offering up things to the dead and this feels very Día de los Muertos.
We’ve all skipped a mass or two in our day.
Okay. Maybe you were the good one who never missed a mass when you were growing up. Most of us, however, were not the good Catholic children our parents wished for.
Low key, our family is always asking us about our weight.
But let’s get serious for a minute. We Latinas are bred to have body dysmorphia with the gordita one second, y ‘flaca coma más, que pasó contigo?’
On a serious note, it is hard to talk about mental health issues and therapy in a Latino family.
In the same vein, it can be so hard to talk to las madres about real feelings because in the moment, she’s like, “here, coma un poquito de chocolate, it’ll help” and later on she’s like, “I *always* knew.” We’re not looking for omnipotence. We’re looking for a moment that won’t become tea to spill to the comadres later.
We know how to be petty when we don’t want to talk to you.
Beating the piñata is just for show. The real fight is con palabras that shut down any semblance of power equality.
Eating two plantains a day is a lot of fiber for any one person to carry. We are not immune to the human body, but our disposition makes us very powerful in the skill of toilet-finding.
We are a pretty hairy demographic so this might be from one of us.
It is definitely something that many Latinas can relate to. How many times have you seen your mom and tías bleaching their upper lip hair?
Again, we are hairy and we should just own it.
Finally, someone broke the silence about nipple hair and I pray I’m not outing the even hairier Middle Eastern half of me to you, mi gente. Kudos to this person who finds joy in their body hair. 😂
Coffee is one of the hardest things for Latinos to kick.
So uniquely the sign of a Latinx here–from the Papyrus font choice to the expressive rage from los padres. Crucially, the attachment to Café Bustelo as the life force itself signals a full-bodied heritage fueled by caffeine. I feel that.
We hate to see people wasting things, especially when we want what they are wasting.
Watching someone just casually toss scraps of food into the garbage instead of straight up licking the plate is like nails on a chalkboard to me. We do not waste. It’s against my religion. A full blown car–that works–is cardinal level sinnery right there.
This is definitely a young Latino who still hasn’t learned their way around a kitchen.
Our abuelas never do anything out of the box. However, when you are young, busy and trying to save some dough, this is the best option.
How many times have you lied to get out of something you don’t want to do?
When the only excuse your abuelita will accept as a rejection of her food or Mexican candy is that you will *die*, you go with that. Because when you’re Latinx, ‘no gracias’ isn’t an acceptable boundary.
Fancy exercises are not our thing. We prefer fad diets.
Can’t you just imagine your abuelita repeating that word with a question mark tone, “pee-lah-tiz, ay que rico parece.” Yo tambien.
Lastly, we are the old-school Addams Family.
The Addams Family was family goals for all of us growing up because he was the first respectable Gomez on television. Now that some secrets are out in the open, we don’t care what you think. 😋 👋