“Arréglate.”
It’s a saying that instantly transports me to my childhood bedroom in San Francisco, my mom combing knots out of my hair and making sure I’m wearing a cute outfit. The translation is “Get ready.” But for many Latinx people, it’s code for “Put on some lipstick before our guests arrive.” Even now, before heading to any dinner or event, or even just stepping out for an errand, this command from my mom echoes in my head. Running to the supermarket to buy milk without combing my hair? Not so fast.
For a long time, I didn’t think my love for beauty had anything to do with being Latinx. When I was a little girl, my mom, who’s Nicaraguan, would let me rummage through her makeup bag, and I’d emerge from the bathroom an hour later, triumphant, silver eye-shadow painted from my lash line to my forehead. This may sound like a young-woman cliché: “My love for beauty comes from my mom.” But the truth is that she let me into her cosmetics stash only bec