For some, a bodega is just a small-scale grocery store. But for many of us New York City dwellers, it is so much more.
Positioned at street level amidst most municipal neighborhoods, each with its own unique character and charm, bodegas are the cornerstones of the community – places where cultures interplay and personal connections are made. These magical mom-and-pop corner stores – one the few things left that are pure to New York City – are home to a loyal clientele. Despite intense pressure from gentrification, chain stores and online delivery apps, most continue to survive because underneath all the “loosies” and the “bacon-egg-and-cheeses” (#IYKYK) lies a legacy of powerful societal aspects.
The definition of a storeroom, warehouse, or cellar, the bodega represented an important centerpiece of the city’s Hispanic population. Although Cuba was the first country to coin the term for their convenience stores, we have to thank Puerto Rico for bringing these iconic institutions to the Big Apple. It was an outlet for the soul – a way of life – symbolic to the Puerto Rican migrant experience after World War II, where knowing your neighbors and who they were connected to mattered. The bodegueros (owners) of these businesses were leaders in their communities who played a pivotal role in maintaining a strong sense of welcome and preserving cultural traditions, providing families with a link to “home” for everything they needed. From familiar Caribbean foods and ingredients unavailable at American stores to leads on job openings, apartment vacancies, assistance from translators and managing critical documents – often allowing their customers to purchase those goods and services on credit while they settled into their new places – a strong sense of community was upheld.
Not only did bodegas offer everyday staples and much-needed support for their brethren, but they also provided a sense of belonging for all people of color, particularly in beauty. Before the likes of beauty retailers such as Sephora and Ulta, the bodega was the premier beauty destination for Black and brown residents of the neighborhoods they served. As an African American teenager growing up in 1980s Far Rockaway, Queens – exploring and discovering the possibilities of my own beauty while surrounded by the world’s insistence of “other” standards – buying cosmetics at the local bodega was more than just a purchase.
Reminiscent of the island of Puerto Rico itself, the bodega was a safe landing place for people with textured hair and darker skin tones, thriving independently of a caste system designed by and for white people. It was full of effervescent color and inspirational style, where some of the dopest hairstyles and most striking skin were on full display. Unlike those folks in movies and fashion magazines, where “excess” often augmented appearance, bodega beauty regulars were unpretentiously flawless and well put-together by way of beauty hacks and ingredients all obtained while shopping there. They made the most of what they had, repurposing grocery staples like coconut oil, eggs and mayonnaise for overnight hair treatments and black castor oil to treat problems like acne and scarring. The most complementing shades of lip gloss were always in stock, as well as the toothbrushes that perfectly slayed your baby hairs and kept your sneaker game on point. And while I can’t quantify the number of uses for Vick’s vapor rub and Vaseline, considering how they’d fly off the shelves, I’d wager there were…a lot.
In 2020, when Cardi B revealed her favorite hair-growth secrets – those that included a boiled onion water wash and a DIY hair mask made from a mixture of several essential ingredients such as bananas, avocado, aloe and egg – she just about broke the internet. Social media went crazy, but I’m certain her inspiration was passed down from those she knew well – people like the beautiful bodega patrons who had practiced and shared how to steep hair and skin with natural occlusives that gifted strong, glossy manes and supple complexions – for decades.
Sorry, Tik-Tokers; hair and skin “slugging” is nothing new.
Just like the others, my local bodega was home to many of the self-made beauty rituals, created with similar combinations of over-the-counter products and self-formulated confections as Cardi’s – all sourced, curated and acquired under one roof. Whenever I could build up the courage to ask one of its “influencers” to recommend what I should use and how to use it, they were always supportive, offering helpful tips that could work well for me, but most of them were several years my senior, so stipulations would often accompany the advice. They made sure no recommendations made me too “grown,”; and if I didn’t act accordingly, the bodeguero would refuse my business and they’d all inform my mother of my foiled plans.
Yep, they knew exactly who my mom was – the bodega was a place of accountability, too.
Today, my beauty arsenal looks a lot different, mostly stocked with factory-made, can’t-live-without products. But when I think back to where my appreciation for them started – inside that beauty oasis of unparalleled emphasis on humanity, cultural ties and connection – I am quickly reminded of why its pulse stays strong.
