Staten Island Women Who We Are...

Last winter, my daughter and I were surfing the web searching for videos about Staten Island. We found quite a few, but many of them were “satirical” videos making fun of us, our supposed accents, and our lifestyles. The common denominator was that Staten Island women were all portrayed in the same way, with the same accent, the same look. One of these videos was of a poet on the West Coast reading a poem, a very poorly written poem, about Staten Island women. It was insulting, appallingly so. A lively email exchange ensued. The following is my last response to her. She took the video down, which was never my intent. I thought it better if ignorance spoke for itself.

Dear Ms. ----.

Thank you for your apology. I really don't know what to say right now. Don't dwell on it. It is something that has been hurtful to many of us for a long time. I believe you meant no harm.

It's just that this sort of thing (and your video is just one of many "satirical" videos) is larger than one person. You are one of many who satirize us in a way that is not artful, not funny. Don't sweat it. I am sure you do many good things and have inspired many young people to be their best selves.

I love my Island home, a place that has been home to my family for almost one hundred years. You don't need to make anything up to me. It is not about me.

No, it is not just about me, Staten Island is home to a wonderful, irritating, lovely, ugly, happy, bad, sad, in September very sad, diverse group of people. We are tired of being portrayed in popular culture as uncouth ignorant louts who all speak with the same accent.

Our women have been portrayed as big-haired bored housewives who have nothing better to do than go to tanning and nail salons. Yes, perhaps some of us do have big hair. Yes, perhaps some of us do have fake tans. There is no denying that. Yes, some of us speak in a particular way.

Staten Island women, however, are as diverse as any you would find in any borough of NYC. We are no different.

Staten Island women work long days in "The City" and come home to care for our children, a good number of us alone.

Staten Island women are loyal to family, many caring for aging and dying parents while our brothers go about their lives in the suburbs of New Jersey.

Staten Island women are single women who work hard, who stand on our own with dignity and grace, who even buy our own picket fences rather than wait for a man to come along to do it for us. Through our singlehood, whether by choice or loss, we are good-humored and still believe that maybe he (or she) is just around the corner. Or not, and that will be OK, too.

Staten Island women know the sorrow of the lost child, so we pick up our heads and raise their children and hope we can live long enough to usher our children's children safely into adulthood—those who are grandma/mothers.

We are women who go back to school because we want to, because we must.

We are cashiers at K-mart; we are Wall Street executives.

We are home-makers, and we are house builders.

We are students, and we are professors.

We are judges, teachers, office workers, cops, doctors, and ushers at the ballpark, psychologists, lawyers, and baristas at Starbucks.

We are all of these things as we support ourselves and perhaps our dependents.

We are no different from any group of women you would find in any city in the United States.

We are just singled out and poked fun at more than other women in any city in the United States.

We are dutiful daughters and loving mothers who care for our families, who work hard in our homes even though not many of us can do the hard work of mothering or daughtering full-time anymore.

We are strong women who have made choices to not have children in the face of disapproval.

We are strong women who have ushered new lives into the world alone.

We are strong women, who after ushering in those new lives, have performed one of the most painful and unselfish acts of motherhood imaginable—surrender a children for adoption so that they might have better lives than we could give them.

We are all of these women and more.

Staten Island women, committed wives for life, are loving lesbians who abide together, who sometimes live so quietly, who sometimes fly the rainbow flag outside of our homes.

Staten Island women are talented musicians, writers, dancers, and artists, young and not so young.

Staten Island women volunteer their time, their talent, their strength in soup kitchens, thrift shops, mentoring programs, community centers, arts events, and in natural environments for the sake of our others.

Staten Island women have skin the color of café au lait, the color of fresh cream, the color of rich, dark velvet, the color of parchment.

We worship in temples, mosques, and churches, grand ones or storefronts.

Sometimes we worship in the woods during a full moon.

Sometimes we believe that now is all there is.

This Island, this woman, is the sum of her parts, both good and bad.

We are sick of seeing one-sided portrayals of us.

I can't say anymore. Really. Forget it. Don't dwell on it.

Staten Island women are resilient.

Sincerely,

Marguerite Maria Rivas

Marguerite Maria Rivas is a tenured professor at The City University of New York and is widely regarded as the de facto poet Laureate of Staten Island. Her work has appeared in numerous literary magazines and in academic publications. A mother of two daughters, Ariel and Miranda, she currently resides in St. George.

Marguerite Maria Rivas