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The vessel I am chose for this project is something I personally find strange, but makes sense and is deeply personal to me. Growing up, my family was in deep poverty. We moved around a lot, had frequent yard-sales, and regularly donated our old clothes and toys when ever we got the chance. It was rare for us to hold onto one thing for a long time. But one thing that we have always held onto, even to this day, was this very specific shelf. Our family didn’t hold onto it for any special reasons, such as it being an heirloom or particularly pretty. But we still kept it around just to hold onto my mother’s various trinkets. It didn’t hold any special meaning to me until after my mother’s death. She had been gone for a long time even before the loss, but it wasn’t until then that I felt it was right to even breathe in the direction of her belongings. Many of her things we decided to donate or sell, as we’ve done many times. But this time around I decided to keep the shelf, for my own trinkets. And even now, after moving homes two times since acquiring the shelf, I have still kept it. It’s become a shelf, an altar, and a sacred vessel to keep everything that it’s important to me.

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Starting off, I would like to say it was very difficult for me to pick out a Cajita for my geographic location and language. Much like it was difficult for me to pick an object for my vessel as well. With this project I started to realize I may not have as comfortable of a grasp as I thought I did when it comes to my cultural identity.

For my geographical cajita, I decided to go with a makeshift bed, made out of blankets and pillows on the floor. Growing up, my parents and I moved around the city a lot and had many instances where we’d have to sleep on the floor until our mattresses made it to the new apartment or family friend we were staying with. But something that was always a constant was the makeshift beds my mother would make. We could never afford sleeping bags or air mattresses, so she made do by stacking two or three blankets on top of each other with pillows stuffed in between. They were always lumpy and my parents would complain about their backs hurting, but always emphasized it was better than nothing. I can even distinctly remember the first time I had to make my bed (in the most literal way possible) once my mother wasn’t around to do it for me.

As for my language cajita, I decided to go with an old phone with google translate on it. It’s a very specific phone me and my dad still own, that hasn’t worked in years (not being able to connect to the internet or phone calls). But I chose it because for a long time, it was the only way I knew how to communicate with my father. My mother was a Bilingual English and Spanish speaker while my father was a Spanish only speaker. I was never really close with my dad when I was little, so I only knew how to speak English and had my mom translate for us when needed, but once she was gone, that wasn’t an option any more. So thanks the little tech knowledge I had back then, I got the bright idea to just use google translate to communicate with my dad. Of course it isn’t the best and I still had to learn Spanish, but things would have been much more difficult without it. I still find myself using it to this day.

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For this week’s Cajita, I chose a fabric cloth to represent my Mexican-American identity. Not any special fabric cloth in particular, just any fabric cloth that is clean enough to eat off of. Growing up, I distinctly remember my father would heat up tortillas during before and during dinner time for himself, my mother and I never really liked them. Much like the fabric cloth my father would use to keep the tortillas warm before it was time to eat them, the tortillas themselves weren’t that special. They were store bought and cooked over the gas fire, and always have been even to this day. I feel like this item as well as the ritual associated with it really represents me and my connection with my ethnic identity, because growing up I never really felt connected with it. My father, the only connection I had to the Mexican part of me, never made an effort to introduce me to our culture in any ‘big’ ways like holidays or history lessons, it was just a part of him he kept so close and private you could almost miss it. He didn’t care to buy hand-embroidered cloths like I’ve seen other Mexican-American families do, but was content to just use any cloth as long as it got the job done.

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For this week's Cajita, I picked a pot of Pozole Rojo to represent my cultural diet because it's an iconic staple in my family's diet every winter. As early as I can remember, I can recall my father would cook a large pot of Pozole the moment it would get a bit colder outside, despite it being California and never really getting cold enough for there to be any need for extremely warm soup during the night. It was one of the traditions my father carried with him when he came from Mexico. Whenever I pass those large cans of hominy at the store, I can't help but wonder if anyone else shares this little tradition.

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Choosing the item for my Cajitas this week was difficult for me. But I eventually decided on nail polish to represent my gender and sexuality, though it better reflects my gender identity in my opinion. I have loved nailpolish my entire life, but not in the same way as little girl would. I more so loved applying it, getting it scuffed up by playing in the dirt, showing it off like battle scars, and repeating the process over and over again until we either run out of nail polish or my mother refused to paint them again. This reflects how my entire life, I always identified closely with feminine presentation, but never quite 'committed' to them if that makes sense. I identify as a demi-girl (or genderfluid, if you prefer the umbrella term). My gender identity changes often, but it tends to stick towards mostly feminine presenting.

As for my sexuality, it is a bit more difficult to describe using an object. I discovered very early on that I was capable of developing crushes on both boys, girls, and anyone in between. Alongside that, I quickly learned that I could form multiple crushes at the same time, much to the delight of my mother who loved to tease me about forming 'love triangles' on the school yard, even though that wasn't the case. I found out towards my junior year of high school that I was both bisexual and polyamorous.

- C

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For my Cajita this week, I choose my Nintendo 3Ds that I received as a Christmas gift back in middle school to represent my economic class. To most, it seems like a normal Christmas gift; but to me it was the first 'nice' Christmas gift I ever received. My entire life me and my family weren't able to celebrate holidays like other kids my age. We couldn't buy gifts or new clothes during Christmas, we couldn't dress up in traditional costumes, so on and so forth. The first 'nice' and 'brand new' gift I ever received was that Nintendo 3ds. And I still cherish it to this day.

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For this Cajita, I have chosen my father's iconic coffee mug. It's a silly Christmas themed mug with a snowman and some snowflakes painted onto it, and has some cracks along the rim, but it's been very consistent throughout my life. Growing up I never really knew where I came from, I wasn't introduced to my mother or father's side of the family until I was a little bit older. So for a long time I believed my mother and father were the only family I had. When my mother left, my dad was the only person I had. And the item I best associate him with is his iconic coffee mug that he can always be found drinking from before bed. Later in life, I was finally introduced to my father's side of the family when we went to Mexico for the first time. I struggled to communicate with my aunts and uncles due to a language barrier, but I quickly found that they, like my father, enjoyed a cup of coffee before bed. So much so it was a little tradition to drink a mug and snack on pastries together before bed. I personally don't like coffee myself, but coffee and coffee mugs are an important night-time tradition in my family.

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Hello Class,

As we all know this project was one to reflect on not just our own cultural identities, but the identities of those around us as well. I had a wonderful time reading about so many lives different than my own this semester, and hope to continue learning about stories other than my own. But I can’t help but reflect on how difficult this project was for me. For the longest time, I assumed I didn’t really have a cultural identity. This project showed me otherwise, and for that I’m so incredibly grateful.

I hope you enjoy my project as much as I enjoyed making it.

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As mentioned before in my introduction, I think the most important thing I learned by doing this project is the fact even I have a cultural identity in some form or another. It may or be stereotypical or completely in tact, but it’s mine. It was uncomfortable to share about my struggles with poverty, but it was also the parts im most conscious of. I lived my entire life like this, it’d be very difficult not to be conscious of it. Understanding my own cultural identity, as well as learning about some o my classmates, will probably give me more confidence when I tell people who I am and what I came from when asked. In the past, I would dodge and avoid the question. But now that I know a little more about myself after sitting down and thinking about it? It feels life changing. In the next month, I would like to better understand some more cultural identities outside of my own by possibly introducing my friends to this project and seeing what they picked out.

Thank you for reading.

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For my free choice, I decided to discuss what I would consider a ‘disability’ in my life. For as long as I could remember, I have been in pain in some way or another. From having terrible period pains when I was 10 to head splitting migraines surfacing when I was 16, along with a dull burning sensation I had always felt beneath my skin. I have been in pain one way or another. I have never been able to get a diagnosis for why I’m in pain, why I have these constant migraines or why I always feverish, but it’s simply something I feel and know it affects my day to day life. I hope one day I can finally find out what this is, and possibly treat it.

To best represent this part of myself, I have chosen a bottle of ibuprofen. It’s a constant staple in my purses, along with a bottle of water and butterscotch candy to ease it down.