Not only are women in sports seen as inferior, but they are also treated with the smallest margin of respect possible, while the men are handled with common decency and praise.
I’m wearing my usual attire. A black matching set consisting of a crop top and sweatpants. Which makes me rethink all of the comments made about what I wear. Men usually don’t have to deal with sexualizing comments telling them that their skirt is too short or that not wearing a bra is asking for it. I’ve made those mistakes being a female athlete. But as a woman who is sitting in a car that reaches up to 110-degrees at times. How the fuck do you expect me to wear a bra with support?
That’s literally the whole purpose of sports bras, and if my nipples show, well, that’s not anyone’s business. I don’t go around pointing out my fellow drivers’ boners. So all I have to say to those blood sucking misogynistic asshole’s is... free the nipple!
At this point in my career, I literally couldn’t give less of a fuck. I wear whatever I want, when I want, and if someone says it’s too revealing or not fit for a woman I tell them to fuck off. I think about that one little girl sitting in front of her TV watching me walk onto the grid’s grounds aspiring to be confident and completely and irrevocably herself. That’s what I want to show to the world. Not my “reckless” image or me being a badass. I want to inspire all those little girls out there and show them that they can be whoever they want to be, no matter the obstacles they may face. Because being able to be whoever you want is the most freeing feeling in the world.
Ultimately, I’m carving out a path for all the young girls that follow, and just thinking about that notion makes me proud as hell. Because I can sit here and tell you that I made a difference for the future of women in sports.
There’s no point in denying the fact that I compete against men.
Not like it’s more of a challenge.
As a female athlete I always felt like I have to be a certain way, to act in a certain manner. But then I realized.
Fuck It.
Me conforming to what someone else says would be completely against my morals, and I never go against my morals. As a woman, I have come so far, and I have learned a lot about who I am and who I want to be.
Looking out onto the field sitting right beside the runway, I see lavender plants adorning multiple spots within the field’s property. The light purple ascends down the length of each flower. It’s beautiful. I missed my home.
Mi tierra, mi casa, y mi fé.
The time went by fast that when the flight attendant told us we had landed, I was surprised. Making my way down the steps, I look up seeing the sun setting. A light yellow mixed with a vibrant orange, a hint of pink displayed cascading down the image of the horizon. The view capturing me in the moment. This scenery could be laid out as a painting.
The Mexico City private airport is one hundred and fifty thousand times better than the commercial airport. Far away from the heart of the city and sadly underfunded, the commercial international airport is just sad. Lights falling from the ceiling, unpainted walls, and worst of all, the smell.
Mexico in general has problems with its plumbing systems. Sewage portals have become lakes, and all the waste travels down toward the end of the city, ultimately ending up near the airport.
My country is beautiful but there’s no denying the fact that it’s a third world country. Even so, Mexico is one of the best countries in the world.
Our vibrant oceans display crystal clear turquoise water just down the coast. The miles and miles of jungle, has years of history filled with mystery and vibrant cultures of their natives. Then there’s our cities, where our people ardently decorate them with our culture.
Walking towards the airport’s entrance, I see my motorcycle parked out front.
In CDMX, it’s almost impossible to get anywhere with a car on time. The hours and hours of traffic, the crashes, and the reckless driving is all a part of the Mexico City “experience”.
With 8.8 million people and it being the twelfth largest city in the world, it’s obvious that traffic is the worst. Just imagine all those people going to work on a daily basis.
That’s why I own my baby, a BMW S100RR with a matte black exterior. I’m able to speed down the streets of Mexico City, swerving in between cars as I make my way around this sinful ciudad.
I was introduced to the city early on in my life even though I had lived in Sinaloa for the first sixteen years of it. The age difference between me and my brother has been evident on only a few occasions. One being when León had been promoted to my dad’s second hand. He had to move from our estate to Mexico City to monitor the cocaine deliveries.
My father had given me the decision to move out or stay in Sinaloa. I had chosen to leave, especially after what had happened prior to my brother’s promotion.
I knew I had to leave with him because he was the only one I trusted in that moment of my life.
Now, I’m living my best life in an apartment that I designed myself. I had the opportunity to use the facilities of the team of my choice. I have never regretted the smart move I made as an athlete. When I first moved here, I also had the option to move in with my brother.
That option was immediately ruled out when I realized that I could possibly hear him having sex.
That was a clear no on my part.
So, I decided to take some money out of my trust fund and find the perfect place to live.
I ended up finding a building and designing my own living space, allowing me to live by myself since I was sixteen.
Walking up to my bike, I quickly turn around to see all the people who have accompanied me on this long and unamusing flight. A loud silence is heard among all of us while in each other’s presence.