ELECTIONS
“We all have our fifteen minutes of fame.”
Andy Warhol
My life until I was fifteen years old was a living hell.
I was hated for being Jewish, effeminate, rich, poor (for my Jewish friends who were children of industrialists, the children of merchants were an inferior class), ugly (I was overweight and had crooked teeth), and a “nerd” (I read a lot because I wanted to know how to improve my life). My fate was the same as many young gay people who ended up committing suicide.
However, I had something that many lacked: intelligence, psychological introspection, and great powers of observation. Just like Eva Perón in the play Evita, where she transformed herself overnight, I decided to do the same.
First, I analyzed how men walked to stop swishing like my mother. Secondly, I demanded braces for my teeth. Then, I went on a diet to make my body less curved and reduce my hips. I also changed my way of speaking and got rid of any feminine intonation, as well as the movements of my hands and eyes. If I didn’t lose enough weight, well, I resorted to laxatives and vomiting. People who hadn’t seen me for a few months no longer recognized me. Jacob stopped being 72
an effeminate child and now became a rebellious, masculine, bully teenager, just like his schoolmates.
In that year 1969, when man landed on the moon, Costa Rican society had undergone no less dramatic transformations. The antisemitism that prevailed in the thirties, forties, and fifties would begin to give way to a greater concern: communism. On the other hand, the hippie movement was born. The sexual revolution and the drug revolution, mainly marijuana, began to take hold, and some students grew their hair long.
The shift from antisemitism to anti-communism and anti-hippies resulted in the end of anti-Jewish campaigns. At the Colegio Superior de Señoritas (the most important Highschool for Women), a Jewish girl won the elections and became the first president of the Student Government: Jenny H. The rumor that a Polaca had won the elections reached our Liceo, which was preparing for its own elections. The position of president in both schools was coveted, and I couldn’t help but hear some comments: “It’s outrageous that the señoritas have chosen a foreigner,” or “the girls from Seño - as they were known - have gone crazy.
Next year, they’ll elect a whore.”
If a Polaca had been elected in the main girls’ school
- Carlos reasoned - why not another one in the Liceo de Costa Rica? “Are you crazy?” I replied. “Who would vote for me? It’s one thing to be left alone and another to become their leader.” After all, I pointed out, I had no skill for public speaking.