Amá, Your Story Is Mine: Walking Out of the Shadows of Abuse

193 Pages·2007·2.42 MB·English

by  Ercenia ''Alice'' Cedeño

amá, your story is mine
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Amá,
your story is mine
Walking Out of the Shadows of Abuse
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by ercenia alice ceden˜o
“ ”
Edited by Susan Dixon
university of texas press, austin
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copyright © 2007 by ercenia ceden˜o
All rights reserved
Printed in the United States of America
First edition, 2007
Requests for permission to reproduce material from this work should be sent to:
Permissions
University of Texas Press
P.O. Box 7819
Austin, TX 78713-7819
www.utexas.edu/utpress/about/bpermission.html
∞ The paper used in this book meets the minimum requirements of ansi/niso
z39.48-1992 (r1997) (Permanence of Paper).
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Cedeño, Ercenia, 1949–
Amá, your story is mine : walking out of the shadows of abuse / by Ercenia Cedeño ;
edited by Susan Dixon. — 1st ed.
p. cm.
isbn-13: 978-0-292-71656-8 (cl.: alk. paper)
isbn-10: 0-292-71656-7
isbn-13: 978-0-292-71657-5 (pbk. : alk. paper)
isbn-10: 0-292-71657-5
1. Cedeño, Ercenia, 1949– 2. Cedeño, Ercenia, 1949—Family. 3. Mexican American
women—Biography. 4. Mexican American families. 5. Immigrants—United States—
Biography. 6. Mothers and daughters—United States—Biography. 7. Grandmothers—
United States—Biography. 8. Mexican American women—Social conditions—Case
studies. 9. Family violence—United States—Case studies. 10. Migrant labor—United
States—Case studies. I. Dixon, Susan. II. Title.
e184.m5c383 2007
305.868'720730092—dc22 2006037082
[b]
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I dedicate this work to my brother, Joe. At the age of fourteen, you forfeited
your dreams to support and protect your four little sisters. You took on the
role of the man of the house to fi ll the void left by our father. Even at such
a young age, you taught us the value of family, of commitment, of work,
of honesty. I know that it was not easy to shepherd four strong-willed
sisters, yet your protective arms were there for us as we huddled together,
alone and fearful. No accolade is suffi cient to thank you, Joe, for giving so
much of yourself to us. Thank you, as well, for supporting my efforts to
write our story from the moment I voiced my desire. Your affi rmation has
meant so much to me.
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This book was written in honor of my Amá. She repeatedly told us as
we were growing up that she was “sola una india,” but she taught us
values of one hundred years ago that endure today, and probably will for
the next hundred years. Her strength and resiliency, and her commitment
to those values, I now fully respect and appreciate. She remained true to
her culture, refusing to adopt any superfi cial, passing trends of the day.
She knew who she was and steadfastly held to her identity. To this day, her
children continue to draw from the power of her beliefs, faith, and love.
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contents
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Preface ix
Acknowledgments xi
Part One 1
2
Amá
17
Escape to a New Life
23
La Migra
33
Joe Recalls
36
Mexicali
42
Queena
45
Joe and the Pool Hall
52
The Cellar
62
Vultures
65
Apá
69
Wailing Cry
72
Domingo
76
Mujeres
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Part Two 85
86
Bleach
88
Abuelita
93
Ragtag Band
94
Crossing the Threshold
99
A Neighbor’s Scheme
101
School
103
Fresno
113
Grapes
123
Hombres
126
Summer Ends
Part Three 129
130
The Clean Start
133
Monster Machines
139
Menstrual Wars
145
Graduations
152
The Curse
154
My Knight in Shining Armor
159
The Reunion
162
Marriage and Children
165
The Last Frontier
168
Beauty School
170
Fly Free
173
The Cycle
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preface
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I sit next to my dying mother and I see her old, tired, soft face
free of suffering and pain. I have so many thoughts and none
of them makes sense. I am confused. I see my mother enjoy-
ing peace for the fi rst time and I am not able to share that
peace with her. I ask myself, “Will Amá really be happy
now?”
We are all near her bedside in the hospital. One of my
sisters is lying by Amá’s side. Another one is throwing herself
across Amá’s body. The third is wailing and sobbing. My
brother is stroking her hand. The demons of the past, like
bats in a cave, have sat dormant in me for years, waiting to
escape. But there I am, full of anger and bitterness, and, at the
same time, numb. I wonder, “Am I so selfi sh and unforgiving
that I can’t feel the emotions my brother and sisters display?”
Why is it so hard for me to understand my mother, when
she was so clear about who she was? Maybe it’s because Amá
talked in riddles. Many times I did not understand her. I spent
most of my growing years mad at her and wanting her to
change to fi t in with the rest of the world. I thought of Amá
as stubborn and narrow-minded. As we were growing up, my
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