Michelle C. Monje Saucedo
My family is very different from most Latino families, culturally, emotionally, and just in general. I don’t have cousins, aunties, uncles, or grandparents in my life. My mom and dad have their reasons for cutting ties with them, and over the years, they’ve shared pieces of their stories with me.
At the time, I chose not to pay much attention. But now, especially with the way things are under people like Donald Trump, it’s hard to ignore the fact that ICE is always watching, not just our family, but our entire community.
Even though I don’t want to meet the relatives my parents have cut off, because of what they’ve said and how hurt they’ve been, I know I probably will one day. Especially now that we live with the fear that my dad might get deported. That thought haunts me. I love my parents deeply. They’ve sacrificed so much for me and my siblings. Still, I do sometimes wish I had grown up with a “normal” or “average” Latino family, because honestly? It gets a little boring not having all the tíos, primos, abuelas y abuelos around.
My dad’s side of the family is complicated. I never really understood everything he went through as a kid until recently. His mom passed away when he was young, and his dad, my grandpa, was strict and hard on him. My dad had to give up school to work. Since he was a kid, he’s been milking cows, pulling feathers off chickens, and selling them at the market. Later, he drove buses and taxis around his pueblo. That was the job he actually enjoyed, and even now, he talks about it with pride.
I like hearing his stories about when he was younger. But whenever I bring up his family, his siblings, his parents, he shuts down. He stays quiet and keeps working. I know he’s shared more with my older sister than with me, probably because she’s older and I’m still the “kid” in the family. But I want to be closer to my dad. I want him to let me in.
My mom, on the other hand, is more open and more understanding when it comes to discipline. She doesn’t hit us with belts or chanclas. I know a lot of Latinos have those childhood stories, the kind that stick with you in a traumatic way. My mom never wanted to continue that cycle.
She’s one of seven siblings. But after my grandma died, they all fought over the terrenos. My mom ended up with the land, and ever since, she’s cut ties with her brothers and sisters.
When she talks about her own childhood, I feel a mix of sadness and anger. She worked in markets from a young age and never went to high school. She always says, “No hay punto de ir si soy burra, mejor hay que trabajar.” I hate that my grandparents never pushed her to continue her education. Who knows, maybe she could’ve been a doctor or a fashion designer.
Now, every day after school, I tell my mom what I learned. Sometimes I joke about dropping out and working like she did, but she always gets mad. She tells me not to even joke about that. She says she doesn’t want me to end up like her… or like my sister.
My sister dropped out of school at my age. My mom brings her up constantly, always using her as an example of what not to do. I get it. But I also wish my mom could see my sister with more compassion.
She says my sister is the one who stopped talking to her. My sister says the opposite. They both blame each other, and it’s like watching a loop that never ends. I’ve tried to get them to talk, to reconnect, but every time they do, it turns into an argument. So I stay out of it.
I love them both. They have their flaws, but I know there’s love underneath the hurt. My sister always tells me she loves our mom, even if they don’t talk much. But my mom tends to bring up things that trigger my sister, and then everything falls apart again.
Seeing how many families in our culture break apart for similar reasons makes me sad. It’s frustrating to watch the same cycles repeat. I take family with me everywhere I go, mentally, emotionally. I think about them all the time. I miss them. I look up to them, even when we don’t talk.
I know that as I get older, things will get harder. That’s life. But I want to be someone who helps change the pattern. I want my family to feel safe opening up. I want them to communicate, to listen, to stop hurting each other just because they were hurt first.
My parents came here thinking of us, their kids. They sacrificed their comfort and peace for our future. Now that I have the opportunity to build something for myself and for them, I’ll keep working hard every single day.
And I hope that when they see me, they see all of that. The effort. The love. The intention.
