Sacrifices
Subject analysis:
In High School, I never got the chance to read a book that understood me. Instead, I was left with books that I disidentified and only read the book for its grade. However, when I read the memoir A Dream Called Home, I finally had the chance to share something similar with an author, one who went through adversity like me. The author Reyna Grande indulges in the complexity of being a first-generation Latina student and finds herself who she wants to become in life. Like Grande, I am on my journey to become the first in my family to obtain the American Dream, more specifically, a bachelor’s degree in a four-year university. Although, when reading this memoir, I learned that so much is sacrificed for the American Dream to be obtained. For immigrants or children of immigrants face losses in their culture, family, and home and often find trauma for a dream to continue living.
The American Dream that was once supposed to heal the wounds of all immigrants only left them wider than before. The harsh reality of the American Dream can be shown in the memoir which Grande often finds a disconnection with her home, family, and culture. For example, for Grande to remember about her culture and country, she states that “only through my writing could I hold on to my native country and keep it from floating into the mist of memory”(Grande 36). For years, Grande lived in the U.S., and all she had left of her home, Mexico, was her stories and memories. When Grande writes her stories on paper, she experiences the good and bad simultaneously, which is a way of connecting with her home, something she had lost years ago. This shows that the American Dream is not what everyone anticipates at first because having a part of your native roots is sacrificed. Most immigrants or refugees define the American Dream as supposed to grant people of all ethnic backgrounds the
ability to succeed in America, but doing so, things must be sacrificed. Like Grande, she cannot feel the same way she once lived in Mexico after crossing the border for a better future; instead, Grande is left with small parts of her home, culture, and family. In another scene where Grande sees herself is when she sees her ESL student’s eyes and says, “their stories were so similar to my own. Broken homes, broken families – that was the price we all had paid for a shot at the American Dream” (Grande 188). Reyna’s sixth-grade ESL students couldn’t speak English, but Reyna knew their eyes spoke for themselves. The way Reyna saw her students reminded her of herself, a young girl full of aspiration and courage for the American Dream. Even though these students are at a disadvantage due to their lack of English, Reyna and her students are able to communicate through their experiences and goals. However, so much is at stake for the American Dream, and it might not be the answer everyone is looking for in America. The truth is for the American Dream to be obtained, you lose a part of yourself in the process.
Storytelling:
When I was a child, my father would always tell me that the American Dream was the only hope to succeed in America since we were financially disadvantaged. He would always mention that he left his family and home to be here for us to have a shot at the American Dream. From time to time, my father would tell me what made him decide to leave his loved ones, how he crossed the border with my mother, and the years of suffering in America because of their language barrier. However, things took a turn when my uncle gave me and my brother the opportunity to visit my family in Asunción Ocotlán, Oaxaca, Mexico.
Asunción Ocotlán is a small town with a very weak economy, poor infrastructure, and little to no opportunities to be found. As almost as if broken dreams were a place. But those
things didn’t matter in that town, the only thing that mattered was family, religion, and the connection each person valued. That’s how my father described Asunción Ocotlán, a place of enriched culture and love.
A couple of weeks later, my uncle drove me and my brother past the border, our first time stepping into Mexico. From the moment we passed the border, all I saw were dozens of vehicles entering their way into the U.S. and Mexico’s law enforcement surrounding the area, checking every spec of those vehicles. I was sort of afraid because I’ve never seen so many police and immigration officers in one area.
When we arrived at Aeropuerto Internacional de Tijuana, my uncle stopped in the middle of the driveway and said, “hurry, get all of your stuff out of the vehicle!” As I did what he said, he then proceeded to tell us to wait by the door. My brother and I ended up waiting a whole hour for him, and I thought we missed our flight because my uncle was taking his sweet time to find a spot to park. He finally found us and told us to get into the building. We got all of our information and luggage done quickly as possible. I rushed to our section where our plane was located and noticed that our plane wouldn’t take flight in three hours. So those three hours were one of the worst three hours of my life because I was stuck in a place where I had no service and was starving myself.
“Flight attendants, prepare for take-off please.” Tired but thrilled to go to my home. I was getting comfortable in my seat, and I thought Oaxaca, Mexico was only a couple miles away from where I was located, but no, I was entirely off, which the screen in front of me said, “from TJ to Oaxaca – 4 to 5- hour flight.” When I saw that, I said, “Wow, this whole trip has been such a disaster so far,” and then decided to sleep the whole flight.
Before the landing at the international airport of Oaxaca, I saw the sunrise shining bright, the mountains standing high above any building, and the green around the airport was breathtaking. Once we had all of our luggage ready to go, my uncle called a cab to take us to my town, and when we hopped on the cab, my uncle told me that it would be an hour from the airport to the town. Once my uncle told me that I really wanted this trip to end because I couldn’t take it anymore since I felt tired and just felt bored out of my mind.
When the cab finally pulled into town, I said, “finally, we’re here!” But when I saw the town, it was exactly how my father described it: a weak economy, poor infrastructure, and little to no opportunities to be found. I was speechless that this town didn’t have any roads or parks. This was totally something I did not expect from Oaxaca.
When my uncle said “This is the place” to the cab driver, I looked at the house, and it was pretty nice looking from the outside. The house had brick walls, a small garden, and room for a driveway. When my grandma stepped out of the house, my brother and I gave her a big hug while she spoke her indigenous language. Since my grandma didn’t know much Spanish, she would usually speak Mixtec. Though I could not understand her, our hug spoke for itself. This very moment I experienced my home, family, and culture all at once, the same thing that my father once told me in America. I finally understood what my father told me and everything my father sacrificed for the American Dream. This trip showed me that culture, family, and home were among those things that would be lost for the American Dream.
Later that day, we walked to the church, and someone was selling churros, and my grandma bought some for us. We then sat at a table next to the church. Eating those delicious churros while talking with my grandma about my experience in America was the best thing that I could ask for. This was a moment to cherish and keep for the rest of my life.
Reaction:
Both Reyna Grande and I experienced what it’s like to lose a part of our culture and family for a dream to continue living. We do so much for a dream that can benefit us and our future when we don’t notice that we have lost more than we have gained. Unlike me, Reyna crossed the border for the American Dream while my parents were the people that crossed the border. However, both of us are here for the same purpose, which is to obtain the American Dream. But as much as it hurts, everything was sacrificed for us to be here. Though, we have to continue and let our survival guilt finish what we(or our parents) have started.
Our stories matter because it is more than the American Dream. After all, this doesn’t guarantee life will get what you want. Instead, you can be left with nothing and tiny bits of your past. But we shouldn’t see this through a lousy lens; we should embrace it that difficult journeys often bring the best out of us. The sacrifices made for the American Dream might not be ideal, but it is what we have. So we might as well take advantage of what we have at the moment.
Reference:
Grande, Reyna. Dream Called Home: A Memoir. Reprint, Washington Square Press, 2019.