My mom's story

A young girl named Marica from Guatemala had to quit school and sell tamales to support her family. She dreamed of having a leather jacket and a motorcycle and promised herself she would return to Guatemala once she had them. At 15, she moved to the United States alone, facing many challenges and dangers along the way. In Los Angeles, she faced discrimination and exploitation while working in factories. Eventually, she met her future husband and they worked hard to build a better life, obtaining legal status and starting a successful business. After 12 years, she fulfilled her promise to return to Guatemala with her grandmother. A leather jacket and a motorcycle. After making enough money to afford these two things, she would return to Guatemala. That's what my mom promised herself when she left Guatemala at 15 years old. My mom had to quit school in the 7th grade due to financial issues. My grandma would send a 12-year-old to the park every day with a tray of tamales and God forbid she didn't sell every last one. My mom would try to sell the tamales as quickly as she could, steal five cents for a little piece of candy, and ghost it near the gates of the school. She would watch all the girls parade around in their uniforms. She wished more than anything to be there with them. This was my mom's everyday routine for three more years. Being a Hispanic woman in 1990, especially in rural Guatemala, isn't very weak. There are a few ways you can become independently stable, let alone make a name for yourself. One of these ways is by getting married, something my mom was clearly not ready for. So imagine this, you're a newly turned 15-year-old girl named Marica, and you can't go to school, your words go unheard, and you're basically stuck in one of the smallest towns in Guatemala. What's the next step? Move to the United States completely alone. My mom couldn't even afford to pay the coyote, I'll use this word very loosely. She borrowed the title of my grandma's house, without her knowledge of course, in exchange for a loan from a woman she knew. With that money, she would go on to pay her expenses. She hugged her parents goodbye, and left with a promise to return within the next three years. This is something I've often struggled with, the notion that my grandma would allow my mom, standing at five feet and only 100 pounds, to leave her country completely alone. I guess poverty knows no limit. My mom's journey was hard and dangerous, at night she would sleep in the desert with other immigrating strangers surrounding her, commonly they were grown men. I can't help but think that angels would watch over her in her sleep. After long weeks of travel, my mom finally arrived to the bustling streets of Los Angeles. Tall and pale strangers surrounded her, she was overlooked and pushed aside. A strange language would fill her ears, and she couldn't help but flush when white people would sneer at her and say unknown words to her. My mom had arrived in America, land of the free, a land of opportunities, and yet again, she would go completely unheard. Luckily, my mom's 18-year-old sisters who had immigrated the year prior would allow her to live with her until she got her own. My mom would often work in factories, her bosses would exploit her, taking advantage of a child. They would promise her a certain amount of money, but only deliver half. But what could she do? She was in this country illegally, no one would ever side with her. Even with the little money she was making, she was still sending money back home. Eventually she had enough to rent a space, this space being a bitter and mean old woman's closet. Here she would sleep, her clothes and shoes would be tightly packed in the corners of the room, her grumbling stomach would often keep her up at night. My mom worked and worked. Life happens, and eventually she reconnected with my dad, who she had known in that little small town. She was excited to learn that he was now also in the United States, working as a tailor. She likes to say that he followed her. My mom married at 18 years old. Now with my dad, they would put their savings together and move from small rooms to apartments around Los Angeles. My parents worked several jobs in the States, never once relying on government aid. They fought hard for themselves and eventually obtained legal status. My dad went back to school and began working as a TA, while my mom invested their savings into a small business that would successfully grow. The three-year promise my mom had made my grandma would turn into a 12-year promise, and she would return to Guatemala with a 62-year-old hanging on to her.