Motherhood across Borders

by Gabrielle Oliveira

  When Daniela was two months old, the relationship between Gemma and Daniela’s father, Elias, became difficult. He would go home intoxicated and sometimes even bring female company. He was known to be a “ladies’ man.” Gemma described the situation, “He would never bring home diapers or baby food. The man did not take care of me or my daughter … he was always intoxicated and he had many girlfriends. I was in love with him, but I take my children over a man any day.”

  Gemma moved into her parents’ house, “leaving” Elias. In phone conversations, her father, Rubén, would refer to her as a dejada, which in this context meant two things: first, even though she was the one who left, the husband is ultimately the only one who can dejar (leave) his wife, thus she is the left one or dejada; second, her father used dejada to insult her and insinuate that she could not give good advice or “be a good mother” to her own children because she was a dejada. For Rubén, Gemma was socially marked as a woman who could not maintain a family.

  Shortly after moving back into her parents’ house, another man, Alejandro, began courting Gemma. Alejandro was Gemma’s boyfriend during high school; they dated briefly when they were teenagers and he left for the United States to work before finishing high school. A few years later he came back on a break and found out that Gemma was newly single. Alejandro’s parents disapproved of the relationship, as he told me, “She was a separated woman with a baby that was not mine … where we come from that’s not good for the woman. My mother did not want me to be with her and Gemma’s parents also thought it was too soon.” It was then that Alejandro told Gemma that he wanted her to go to the United States with him. Gemma’s first answer was no because of Daniela. But Alejandro promised on “the Virgin of Guadalupe” that they would go back to Puebla to get Daniela when she was a little older. Gemma explained her rationale for making the decision to migrate:

  You come into this world as a woman, because Diosito (God) wants … you have to have a family, because you were created for that, and when you do, things go wrong and the family falls apart [referring to Elias].… The only way, maybe I shouldn’t say the only way, but the way that I thought to be the most effective to try to give Daniela a better future with a stable family was going with Alejandro to the United States. He was good to me, he promised me we were going to come back for her. And Alejandro said [as they planned their trip], “the baby is going to cry the entire way in the desert and the police will hear us and arrest us.” I did not want to take a chance.

  While Rubén was against his daughter’s departure, her mother Emma told me, “a woman needs to be where her husband is. If she had stayed in Puebla no one would have married her. My daughter needed to be happy and have a chance in life … I told her I would keep Daniela, it’s the sacrifices you make for your children.” Emma provided two explanations for the migration rationale: for one’s husband, and for one’s children. She explained to me that in order for children to have a stable life, both emotionally and financially, their parents must be together even if they are far away. Alejandro was not Daniela’s father, but even so Emma saw her daughter having a husband and being together as critical to Gemma becoming a good role model for Daniela.

  Gemma described leaving Daniela for the first time as heartbreaking. Gemma was still breast-feeding and she felt very connected to her baby. “How is it that we find ourselves in the situation of leaving our own children behind? And for what?” Gemma told me as she put her hands on her cheeks.

  Gemma and Alejandro did go back to Puebla three years later, but to Gemma’s despair it was too late: “Daniela was three when I returned and she did not recognize me. The pain I suffered there and then was so much bigger than when I left her three years before. She only wanted to be with her grandmother and she cried when I held her.” Six months later Gemma and Alejandro again left for the United States and this time Gemma did not know if she would or should go back for Daniela. Emma, Gemma’s mother, never tried to take over the role of mother; quite the contrary. Emma made sure to remind Daniela every day that her mother migrated so she could actually take care of Daniela and ensure that she could “be whatever she wanted to be.” Daniela recounted the story of when her mother left her when she was three years old with a nervous laugh.

  I didn’t want to go with her, it was really my fault; I just didn’t know who she was anymore. The person that takes care [emphasis added] of me: feeds me, bathes me, changes me, washes my clothes, braids my hair, and takes me to the doctor is my mamá Emma and not Gemma. The way Gemma takes care of me is by sending me money, gifts, and giving me advice. But I know she is busy with my little brother and little sister.

  Daniela had a challenging relationship with her grandfather, Rubén. Even though he spent six months of the year in Texas, whenever he was home it was a nightmare for Daniela. Rubén was reportedly an alcoholic and would often get physically abusive with his wife Emma. He got especially angry with Emma when she would, according to him, “treat Daniela like a baby and let her get away with everything.” Whenever I was at their house in Puebla, Rubén was intoxicated. Daniela asked me to stay longer because, in her words, “you being here will make him well-behaved, he will be scared of hitting my mamá because he knows you are a maestra that lives in the U.S. so you would call the police.” Daniela was extremely concerned for her grandmother’s safety. At some point during my stay with them, Rubén yelled at Emma, who had just burnt a tortilla, and told her she was “worth nothing” and that he was better off being in the United States. Daniela immediately responded to him, “you are a drunk, and I am tired of you. I can’t believe I have to live here with you.… The only reason I stay in this house is because of my mamá.”

  Emma, on the other hand, assured me that Rubén was not being abusive lately and explained to me,

  He is ill, he has been drinking since he was 11 years old. It’s not his fault. Daniela is stubborn and she is a teenager. He gets angry because when Daniela was younger she was very depressed, I sent her to the psychologist and all … up until she was 11 years old she didn’t shower by herself, she didn’t make her own food, she didn’t help me at all. But then I told her that she needed to be good, otherwise her mother Gemma would not be proud of her … she needed to be a good daughter if she wanted to have a good mother.

  In the United States, Gemma settled in Brooklyn’s Sunset Park and had two children with Alejandro, Yazmin (age 11) and Alejandro Jr. (age 10). In Gemma’s words, “The Virgin was giving me a second chance to be a good mother, to take care of my children.” Alejandro Jr. was born with a cleft palate, a severe skin disease, and asthma. He went through multiple surgeries and Gemma dedicated herself entirely to him for the first five years of his life. Her daughter Yazmin also helped her take care of Alejandro Jr. At a time when Yazmin and Alejandro Jr. were in school every day from eight in the morning until two in the afternoon. Yazmin was an excellent student and involved in extracurricular activities such as cheerleading. Alejandro Jr. was one year behind in school, due to his multiple surgeries. He almost failed third grade. He had difficulty reading and writing, but he was an outstanding soccer player. Gemma worked as a caregiver of elderly people. Alejandro worked six days a week at a mechanic shop, where he was the manager. He earned between $1,500 and $2,000 a month. Gemma worked three times a week and made between $200–$300 weekly. They lived on the ground floor of an old brownstone building in a two-bedroom apartment.

  Gemma was very active in school-related activities and encouraged Yazmin and Alejandro Jr. to participate in groups, teams, and tournaments. Through government assistance, Gemma secured a tutor who went to her house three times a week to work with Yazmin and Alejandro Jr. The tutor, Paula, was Peruvian and therefore able to alternate between Spanish and English. Gemma spoke very little English and her children spoke very little Spanish in the house. “No te entiendo!” (I don’t understand you) was Gemma’s constant reply to her children. On many occasions Yazmin and Alejandro Jr. talked to each other in English; I often heard them s
aying, “I don’t know how to say this in Spanish, it’s not my fault.” When she called Mexico, Gemma was able to speak more freely in Spanish with her daughter Daniela on the phone and for longer periods of time, whereas Alejandro Jr. and Yazmin would quickly disengage and not pay attention.

  Gemma never told Yazmin and Alejandro Jr. that Daniela was their half-sister; they assumed Daniela was the daughter of both of their parents. When I showed Yazmin a picture of Daniela, she commented, “She doesn’t look like she is my sister … there is something wrong.”

  Gemma’s story elucidates the impact of gendered ideology of motherhood on Gemma, Emma, and Daniela, and foreshadows patterns that will also emerge in the stories of the other women participants in this research. Gender ideology influenced how women reflected and narrated leaving their children, leaving their mothers, and leaving or accompanying their husbands or partners. Once settled in New York, the gender ideology of motherhood was adapted and molded such that women could “mother” children here and there. However, the tension between mothers in New York and grandmothers in Mexico remained as both sides tried to sort through “perceived” identities of being a mother, woman, and wife as they shared and negotiated care.

  Second, within the transnational, fluid context of migration, it is easy to think that the idea of family is radically transformed. Both Gemma and Emma made sure to tell the children about the value of kinship. Emma reminded Daniela of who, in her words, her “real mother” was and insisted that Daniela held on to that idea. Gemma hid the truth from her two children in the New York City in order to maintain the idea of “one” family where all children belonged to the same father, even if physical borders divided them. Gemma wanted her children to see Daniela as their sister, not their half-sister. Gemma worried that if her children knew the truth they could potentially reject Daniela and not see her as family. In addition, the history between Gemma and Daniela’s father was somewhat shameful for Gemma and her family, and she preferred not to share it with her children.

  Finally, Gemma’s story shows how the different ideas of what a good mother is and does are in constant flux. Emma had always supported her daughter and never wanted to take over the role of the biological mother. This relationship between Emma and Gemma did not come without a price. Gemma felt indebted to her mother and in many ways felt powerless when making everyday decisions. At the same time, Daniela went back and forth with her own thoughts and feelings about her mother and her relationship with her siblings. This constant fluctuation was characteristic of other children in this research who stayed behind. Daniela was protective of her grandmother, who she described as her “caregiver,” as she also felt a sense of debt to Emma.

  Gemma’s story reflects the observations of almost all other constellations and data collected from interviews with the other 40 mothers. Women explained that every day, month, or year that they remained separate from their children in Mexico made their relationship with their own mothers harder and more delicate. They did not feel empowered to overturn decisions made by their own mothers and believe they have a debt they will never be able to repay. Their mothers, on the other side, wanted these women (their daughters) to participate more actively in the lives of children left in Mexico. At the same time, women’s expectations for children left in Mexico only grew stronger with time and represented their way of keeping the mother-child bond alive.

  Mexican migrant mothers in New York City associated motherhood with the idea of “taking care” of their children (all of them). Gemma and the other migrant women I interviewed in New York expressed a struggle to “leave” children in order to provide for them. For their mothers, who then became caregivers of their grandchildren, there was yet another layer of perceived contradiction: allowing their own daughter to leave in order that she might be a “good” mother. There was sacrifice on both sides of this intergenerational relationship.

  Back in Gemma’s kitchen, while her two children, Yazmin and Alejandro Jr., watched a movie in the living room, Gemma stood up to get water from the refrigerator. Before doing so, she stopped to stare at a picture on the refrigerator door. She reached for the picture and brought it over to me. It was a picture of Daniela, her 15-year-old daughter who lived in Mexico. I asked Gemma if she had talked to Daniela that week or that day. Gemma looked at me and answered, “I didn’t tell you her latest request? She wants a cell phone, díos mio!” She continued, “it’s hard being here and Daniela being there; she tells me that I forgot about her, that I abandoned her!” She concluded, “yo la dejé, pero no la abandoné” (I left her, but I did not abandon her). I asked Gemma what was the difference between the two words “to leave” and “to abandon”?

  I did not abandon Daniela, I left her. Abandoning means that you forgot about the person, that the person doesn’t exist in your life, you cut her out. When you leave someone it doesn’t change how much you take care and love her and the fact that I am still her mother. I’m still the mother … it’s just different, and I know she loves her grandmother more than she loves me … a different mamá, es lo que yo soy (that is what I am).

  According to women in this research, “mothering” in and from a different country does not distort their roles as women. I argue instead that women borrow from emblems and symbols present in the ideologies of motherhood in both Mexico and the United States as a way of creating their own practices of care. They also use childhood memories and experiences with their own mothers to inform the ways in which they practice care for their own children. In this chapter, I address two questions: How do women transform their ideas of caring when living in New York City? How do their ideas contrast those held by their mothers?

  I explore the tensions around the ideals migrant mothers have of caregiving and “mothering.” I also demonstrate how ideals and practices of motherhood constantly inform how women characterize “good mothers” and “caring ones.” The very act of leaving and migrating represents a “break” in the usual nexus of motherhood, which includes physical presence. However, women justify this act by explaining that they must leave in order to be a “good mother” and care for their children. I address the meanings the mothers in this research attach to the idea of being a “good mother,” feelings of guilt and sacrifice, and the importance of supporting their families. To do that I look at Gemma’s story in detail, contrasting her experiences with her children and her ideas of motherhood based on her experience. I highlight how she and other women negotiate the ideology of “the good mother” as they maintain transnational families. While most studies of transnational motherhood focus only on women in the host country, I use the transnational care constellation as a unit of analysis to widen the lens of how transnational motherhood has been studied. Instead of just looking at mothers in New York City, I examine at co-parenting and shared caregiving practices that take place across transnational terrain.

  In the following sections I address care as defined and practiced by mothers in New York City and caregivers in Mexico, describe the relationship between motherhood and caring, and highlight what women say about their ideas of motherhood and how they adapt and create new forms of parenting. I pay special attention to the tensions that arise between mothers in New York City and caregivers in Mexico. To achieve these goals, I will first review notions of motherhood and caring in Mexico as represented in the anthropological literature. I will also look at the literature on transnational families and more specifically on how motherhood transforms when women migrate and set up transnational families. Finally, I will show that intergenerational tensions between mothers in New York and their own mothers in Mexico are present precisely because both sides have expectations of care that are not always aligned with expectations of motherhood.

  Feminization of Migration

  The feminization of migration brings to the forefront of migration studies an important discussion regarding everyday care practices. How is it done? Who is involved? And, finally, what do these practices mean to mothers, caregivers, and chi
ldren? On one hand, mothers have the ideals and the meanings that they attach to motherhood and care; on the other hand, these gendered ideals are transformed and complemented by mothers’ interpretations and actions of care. The ideals of motherhood, some have suggested, are challenged when mothers migrate as family breadwinners (Hondagneu-Sotelo & Avila, 1997). In her study of children in the Philippines whose migrant mothers were away, Parreñas (2005a) describes how a “gender ideology” affects the impact of maternal immigration on the children that stay behind. She explains that the ideology of women’s domesticity in the Philippines has been recast to be performed in a transnational terrain by migrant mothers, meaning that tasks mothers have at home in the Philippines are performed also in the host country (p. 168). Parreñas’s work belongs to an important body of literature that regards women as central actors in immigration. In the contemporary period, “Thanks to the process we loosely call globalization, women are on the move as never before in history” (Ehrenreich & Hochschild, 2002: 2).

  Yet, too often, studies have focused only on immigrant mothers, without adequately considering how social networks have influenced their life experiences. In her 2005 book, Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln, biographer Doris Kearns Goodwin explains that she had read the dozens of books written about Abraham Lincoln throughout the years. However, she states, “by widening the lens to include Lincoln’s colleagues and their families, my story benefited from a treasure trove of primary sources that have not been generally used in Lincoln biographies” (p. xviii). This anecdote shows that previous research in US-bound Mexican migration presented bias as they prioritized male experiences and male breadwinner patriarchal family structures. And today, even as there is growing literature on the feminization of migration and the central role of immigrant women’s labor in contemporary capitalist formations in industrialized countries (Chang, 2009), the role of women in migration is still overlooked. Where are they coming from, or being pulled from? How many have children or care for children as their job?