In the grand tapestry of perceptions, I secretly hope people say, “She’s fair, but not in a boring way, more like a ‘fair with flair’ way.” Being fair is a delicate dance, like trying to salsa on a tightrope. And, I’m not saying that just because I’m Latina. I’ve often found myself swaying between opinions, caught in the rhythmic beat of neutrality. It’s surprising how some folks prefer a straightforward waltz of allegiance, while I’m here doing the cha-cha of impartiality.

Fairness, to me, is a currency of credibility, a badge of authenticity that I wear like a Gen X superhero cape. Picture it: Fair Woman, swooping in to mediate disputes with a healthy dose of reason and a side of eye rolls. But, beware, fairness isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. Some find it bitter when they were expecting a sugary bias. Life’s quirky, right?

Oddly enough, people have thrown around the “humble” compliment like confetti at a ’90s rave celebratingthe ’80s. It’s surreal. It’s odd navigating the tightrope while adorned with humility glow sticks. How does one gracefully accept praise for being humble without canceling out the humility? The paradox of acknowledgment dances alongside my fair waltz.

And then there’s the humor, the wild card in my deck of characteristics. I hope people say, “She’s as funny as a stand-up comedy night at a laundromat.” Humor, to me, is a connector, a bridge over troubled waters, or more accurately, a witty raft floating on the absurdity of life’s currents. A theater of the absurd. Perhaps optimistic nihilism. Which so happens to be my son’s favorite high school topic at the moment. But I digress. See, I seek levity in tense dialogues, turning serious conversations into comedy improv sessions. Because let’s face it, laughter is the ultimate uniter, the universal language that transcends differences and echoes louder than breaking bread.

So, here I am, juggling fairness, humility, and humor, hoping that in the carnival of perceptions, my authenticity shines through. Because, ultimately, life’s too short for a monotone tango; let’s keep it fair, humble, and hilariously authentic. Dance on, my friends, dance on like we’re at an ’80s nightclub swinging to Duran Duran and being Hungry Like a Wolf.