the rice cooker

Relationship: Child of im/migrant
picture of fluffy jasmine rice.
picture of fluffy jasmine rice.

I was raised around rice, hints of garlic and salt flying through my tastebuds. I've only known rice.It was the main grain of my lunches since I was a toddler. Unfortunately, rice has too many carbohydrates, so naturallyI was a chubby child. And here's the thing, chubby babies are cute, chubby nine-year olds get teased. I couldn ́t understand why my older sister looked slim and small, even though we had the same diet. Alas, I was also a tall child, looming over my peers. I tried dieting, I wanted to look like the beautiful girls who danced at carnival each year, and wanted to be the  ̈linda morena ̈ (beautiful tan girl) that my mother always envisioned me to be. Two choices were laid in front of me: the beauty that my culture promised me, or the rice cooker. Compromise was made, in the end. The taste of garlic and salt is now just a distant memory. Quinoa is now a friend of mine, and as I sit waiting for it to cook, I wonder if even the rice cooker misses the old grain that used to reside inside of it, warm and fluffy, prepared with love.

Place(s): Brazil
Year: 1997

– SA

Relationship:  Child of im/migrant Child of im/migrant