You’re pura nena. “I say that because you aren’t married” she says. “When a person is married, they are señora. But until they get married they are nena.” Oh lord be with me in my two years as a baby. I can hardly tie my shoes and wipe my nose cuz I’m not married. You see I told Jose that he should come over to eat dinner. He eats with his parents but they weren’t home.

So when I came home to prepare dinner with my family, I told my host mom “Pobre Jose está en su casa sin comida!” And she said “well why don’t you call him and tell him to come over??” I said: “I did, I offered him my food that I had here but he said he would be okay..” This wasn’t good okay. “Why don’t you call him? I can give him these shrimp or I’ll make him some eggs” “Oh he said he doesn’t like eggs!” She responds officiously: “Oh okay he doesn’t like eggs.” And my frijolito is at my ear, ringing. “My host mom says to come over, she’s got beans and tortillas.” He says he’ll be over in ten (which means 25).

The 25 minutes in between my call and his arrival were so ripe with cultural difference that I might not be able to pluck them all.

She explains to me: “Pobrecito that he comes home and his family is not there to cook for him! You see, a varón needs to eat. A lady, she can prepare food for herself because she has her kitchen. But he is there with nothing and no food and they didn’t tell him they weren’t going to be home!” And before you know it I’m bringing down my potatoes to cook, we add more tomatoes to the pot and we’re heating up the shrimp. She keeps offering them to me but I want them for Jose. I keep looking out the window. Nothing. My platano is roasting in the flames. It’s not ripe but I decide to cook it anyway. How I love platanos. And the Host grandmother gets up: “Are there enough tortillas?” she asks in K’iche’. Yes Mama confirms DoRo. “A man needs to eat.”

And somewhere in between these statements, she schools me on the definition of nena and it’s application to me.

Jose gets here and we have his place all set up. Do you like shrimp? Do you like tomatoes? How do you feel about potatoes? “Like I tell Natalia, come come come con confianza” and she says “If you want tortillas, there are tortillas.” Eating without tortillas here is like eating without napkins at home. And he unfolds the tela to pull out warm tortillas. He eats. We look at him, host mom tells him how sorry she is that he came home to no food. “If you need to come over any time, you come over. We are here and we have food!” A woman has her kitchen but a man doesn’t have what he needs to cook! Pobrecito.

And Jose and I are passing messages back and forth a la “Oh… Gender norms…” and we decide to play. I say “Jose, you need to come over because you are varón and varónes necesitan comeeeer.” He looks at me and says “And so do mujeres!” And then my host mom asks what he will ask for breakfast. He says: “I know how to cook. I cook meals for myself at home.” He’s almost defending himself. And she says “Vaya vaya.” And then Jose says “Sometime you can come over and I will cook for you.” My host mom laughs politely and brings her cup to her mouth. Jose and I lock eyes. He says in English: “I don’t think she took me seriously.”

Asking a man for you to cook here is like asking a woman to climb a tree and cut avocados. That is a man’s work.

And what I still don’t understand is that my host mom walks along with her avocados and chops the sugar cane shooting up to the sky like it’s a game. It’s her fun. She can carry loads of wood strapped in place to her forehead, pile baskets atop her spine to transport her siembra, and wield an axe at the firewood.

My mind wonders to when a nena I babysat in the States told me I wasn’t an adult because I wasn’t married. So anyone who is getting ready to but Guatemala in that box will have to put part of our US culture in that box too. I don’t want to be put in any boxes and even when I die, I want cremation. No coffin, thanks. Give my organs to someone who needs them (if they want them!)

But until that day, I will wash the dishes because I am hosting and I like washing the dishes. I don’t like cooking because I’d rather do other things. But yes, I can cook. Yes, I can clean. Yes I can tie my shoes without being married.

I’ve learned more about my own expectations about gender now that I’m far from my own culture. One thing I’ve learned por furze is that gender roles are just roles. Norms are just norms. Women can change tires and wield machetes and clean and men can cook and sew. But sometimes economic influence has more to do with gender roles than we might imagine. And I don’t like to think about economy so I’ll just keep cooking my platanos before they’re ripe and hope for the best.

Needless to say, if you want to come over for dinner, “Hay tortillas.” “Come come come con confianza.”