Eyes like Black Olives
My grandfather — Abuelo Alejandro used to say that my eyes were like black olives “ojos como aceitunas negras”. I fondly remember his happy eyes, toothless smile and the enormous love that radiated from him.
It’s crazy, but I remember being held in his arms when I was a few months old. It’s a feeling and vision I have etched in my heart and mind. I have a few vivid memories of when I was really young but that moment in my Abuelo’s arms is the most memorable.
I was born in Argentina to a Jewish family. My father’s parent are from Greece and France and my mother’s parents are from Turkey. My parents moved to New York in March of 1970 and I quickly noticed that I had no resemblance to the blonde and blue eyed American beauties depicted in magazines and on television. My eyes were so black you couldn’t see my pupils. I had shiny black hair, dark olive tone skin and a strange name. Neighbors were dumbfounded that I spoke Spanish and I was Jewish. They would ask…where are you from? Argentina? Isn’t that near Mexico? Don’t they speak Portuguese there?
Throughout my entire childhood I wanted to be someone else from somewhere else and have my father’s green eyes. Being different wasn’t celebrated in the 70’s and it seemed that everyone strived to look like the Barbie Doll we had. The scars of not wanting to be me took me years to heal.
Aging pigmentation have lightened my eyes and they now have a grey crescent on the surface that a colleague said were a sign of wisdom. My black hair is lightened with highlights and I shield my skin from the sun. I still struggle to love who I am and where I am from.
I did an ancestry test and it turns out that I am a little bit from everywhere in the world. There is nothing purebreed about me and I now proudly celebrate the diversity in my DNA, the multiple languages we speak in my family, the cultures we have intertwined, the many ethnic foods we cook and the different colors of the beautiful places we come from.
