My grandmother was half-native, in the sense that my great-grandmother was native, and she had these powers to see the future and interpret dreams. Female intuition that comes from the earth, see? But not my mother. My mother curses.
First, it was my hair. I always wanted to paint it and she never let me. One day I did and the next day there wasn't anything left. The strands fell on the pillow one by one, creating a splendid blueberry-purple bird's nest.
Then it was the bed sheets I bought. White. My mother told me not to buy white. White stains. On its first wash, my bedsheets came out plagued with all the filth, old hair and pieces of dead insects accumulated in the washing machine.
I fell in love with my first vase of red mini-roses. My mother told me not to leave her on the window during thunderstorms. I was stubborn. She can take it. I can take it. The next morning I found the earth spilt on the sidewalk around a broken vase and flowers that did their best to survive the sixteenth-floor fall.
Food spoils.
Plates I choose myself break one by one.
I can never have fun without getting a hangover.
The first time I slept with a man my mother would certainly never approve of, I had to get an abortion.
I can never make a decision against her will without finding some sort of annoyance. I am sure they are curses.
But let me tell you a secret, friend. Come close, I must say this very quietly. If I told you that I, too, curse everything I hate about other people, would you believe me?
In other words, I have a book out on pre-sale! Amores Fatais (translated to Fatal Love) is an anthology about passion crimes written by me and 3 other Brazilian authors who identify as women. I can’t wait for you to read it!