My Mother's American Dream

El Salvador

My mother and her family were well-off in El Salvador until my grandfather passed away. From one day to the next they lost everything. As the eldest daughter, my mother had no choice but to help provide for her family. As a teen she would attend school during the day, go to her job in the evening, and come home to help clean and cook. The Civil War in El Salvador begin in 1980, when my mother was 18 years old. My mother recalls seeing dead bodies on the street and her house being bombed. She made the decision to move to the United States to escape that chaos and achieve the American Dream that everyone would talk about.

America

When my mother moved to New York she moved in with a family as their live-in nanny. My mother remembers her meals as scraps from the plates of her employers. Although my mother was bitter towards the adults, she loved the kids she took care of. She remembers how the children would sneak into her room when they had nightmares. She took care of them as if they were her own. My mother was left with no other choice but to clean and take care of children. A couple years later she moved to Maryland to begin a new life.

My mother dedicated her life to her four children. She remembers working enough to buy her children food and clothing. When we would ask her why she didn't eat, she would say that she wasn't hungry. Little did we know that she had gone the whole day without eating, just to make sure our bellies were full. As time went by my mother had two set of employers who cared deeply for her. They believed in her and provided her with opportunities to thrive. They helped out my family during very difficult times. Without their help, my family would have continued to suffer.

The years passed and my mother married a man who had a similar upbringing and same work ethic. Eventually their hard work paid off. My parents were able to buy a house, two brand new cars, put money into a retirement fund, and attended college courses. They have a daughter with a masters, another daughter in the process of getting her masters, and a son in the military. In their hearts they have achieved the American Dream. They continue to work hard because they know that one simple misfortune can wipe that dream away. 

Meaning

The story of my mother's is similar to those of millions of Latinos in the United States. My parents worked hard to get to where they are today. My parents know the system isn't perfect and that there are income disparities and institutionalized racism. But what my family has always wanted is simple: doing what they are able to do, putting food on the table, and providing for the family that they love. As society continues to scrutinize Latinos in the United States, I ask for you to take the time to let those people know the stories of those who have worked hard to make it in this country.

"Anger is a wall that we build to protect ourselves from hurting." -Emily Renderos

I work with children that have been hurt both physically and emotionally. Most of these adolescents continue to struggle with their anger. Do you know that anger is a secondary emotion. The primary emotion comes from fear. People get angry because they fear being abandoned, fear being let down, fear being hurt again. Anger is a wall that we build to protect ourselves from hurting. 

How can I stop a child from releasing their anger when those who swore to protect them and never let them down did just that. How can a child trust anyone when their foundation of trust was rooted in this way. 

Take a second to think and realize that those same kids who have hurt have grown to be our neighbors, our friends, or even ourselves. They may date your daughter, bully your son, be your boss at work, be the nurse that assists your dying father, be your dog groomer. So how can we continue to ignore or forget about helping families and children in need. Those hurt and angry individuals are part of our society. They are part of us. We have a social responsibility to help others learn how to trust in order to have a functional society. My goal is to start with children who have minimal support resources and help raise them up to a mentality of hope in relying on others. 

That was the last time I saw her...

"When I was six, I remember I was getting ready for school and my mom was about to drop us off. Four black cars pulled up and they took her away. That was the last time I saw her. And then the same thing happened to my dad. I feel so sad for him being in jail...I don't think he gets enough food." 

How do you respond to a child whose parents have been incarcerated and may not be released for years. How do you tell him that he may be in foster care until he's adopted or turns 21. How do I tell him that he may never be able to build that attachment and trust with his parents or other people in his life.

My heart breaks as a tear rolls down his cheek, worrying about his father and mother in jail. He runs to his foster mother and curls up in her lap. He now has a stomachache. That same stomachache that occurs when we start talking about his biological parents.

Times like this I just listen and observe. Times like this it hurts. So I let him let it out, so that he can grieve. 

Sometimes someone hurts you so bad, you stop hurting at all. Until something makes you feel again, and then it all comes back.

Today I sat in a courtroom while I looked at one of the teenagers I work with testify against her father. The person she had trusted to take care of her had raped her.

Although she had a large group of supporters sitting in the gallery, she seemed so alone on the witness stand. As I saw her tears of sadness, turn into words of anger, I couldn't help but feel the transfer of feelings upon me. She had been victimized and now she had to re-call all of the details of her abuse. I felt sick to my stomach hearing the pain she had gone through. My eyes swelled with tears and my jaw clenched as the defense attorney tried to confuse her.

I admired the strength it took for her to stand there and tell her story to the public, her family, and her friends. But I also know that her life is changed for ever. The person she once called father, will never be that to her. Her innocent childhood was stolen away and replaced with weekly therapy sessions and long working hours to avoid thinking about what happened.

As a social worker, I have had my heart wrenching moments-and today was one of those days. But seeing the sense of relief that came from my client after her testimony, made me realize that she is a resilient and strong individual. And it gave me a sense of hope and realization that one day her golden cheer will return.

You Would Never Know

She was 6 years old. She witnessed her stepmother get pushed down the stairs by her father. She held on to the baby covered in blood that came out of her stepmothers womb. She said, "Oh no mommys doll baby came out." Her father ran down the stairs, pulled the dead baby from her arms, and put a gun to her head. He told her "Never tell anyone our business-or I will pull the trigger next time. She stopped trusting. She stopped talking. She was six.

She is 14. Magnet school. Straight A's. Athletic. An artist. You see her laugh without a care in the world. She loves joking with you. You would never know that she was that same 6 year old.

My Wealth

As a child did you ever go to bed hungry-because there was not enough money for food?

I did.

As a child did you ever watch your single mother work 3 jobs just to buy you a pair of tennis shoes?

I did.

As a child did you ever have to lay on the floor because of a gun fight going on between gangs?

I did.

I learned very early in my life what it meant to be wealthy. I watched classmates eat while I went hungry. I watched kids show off their new school clothing as I wore hand-me-downs and off brand shoes. I went to a school in California surrounded by gang involvement. All I wanted to have as a kid was enough money for my family to eat, to have my mom stay home to be with my siblings and I, and to feel safe.

As I grew up, my mother remarried, we had more money, we ate, and we moved to a safer area. I realized that even having a little bit more money did not change what my definition was of wealth.

To me I was always wealthy. I had the love of family and friends. I had teachers who inspired me. My family had friends who reached out and helped. You see my wealth was love. Because even without all the material things, I always had the support and care of people. People who did not judge me for what I didn't have. And got to know me for my character. 

As I continue to work with foster youth I strive to present them with conversation, care, and a sense of hope. I let them know that the real value of life is not in monetary value but in the strength of the relationships they acquire through the years. This to me is why I became a social worker.

Always,

Emily

"Whenever you feel like criticizing any one, just remember that all the people in this world haven't had the advantages that you've had."     -The Great Gatsby

Memory:
My mother, sister and I were living in California in the early 1990's. We lived in a barrio in Los Angeles with mostly all Latino families. My mother tried her best to give us a good life on the little money she made. We went to church, a bilingual school, and played with others in the neighborhood. There even was a lady with over 20 cats in her house. My mother struggled but never once did we hear her complain about how bad it really was.

Gang shoot outs were common in our area. Through one of these shoot outs, we were doing what we regularly did, laying flat on the ground away from all windows. However I was a very curious six year old and rarely listened to my mother. I rose up and ran to the kitchen window to see the action. When I went to see there was a man with a gun right outside our door. It was the scariest thing I had seen up until then. I can still picture his eyes. My mother who had been yelling at me, quickly grabbed me and pulled me into the living room. This was normal in our neighborhood.

Meaning:
I am currently re-reading The Great Gatsby and came across the quote above. At times I look at people and am quick to assume and judge. But then I take a step back and think that a person behaves and thinks a certain way due to their experiences. I quickly go into what I call "social worker mode"-taking a look at that persons strengths instead of weaknesses.

A persons childhood experiences are what shapes them into the adult that they are to become. The gang shoot outs in LA were normal to me, it wasn't until I moved back to Maryland that I realized that I had been living in a really violent neighborhood. This is the reason why I want to work with children and more specifically children who live in areas like this. Children who grow up only knowing this type of life.

So tell me why are people so quick to judge other people without knowing anything about them? Next time I challenge you to drop your assumptions and get to know someone before actually judging their character.