In addition, a less discussed subject pertaining to why women migrate has to do with their own desires to follow a husband or to attempt to start a new life in a country with more perceived opportunities. Even though migrant women do rationalize their departure as a sacrifice, there is more to their stories than much of the literature cares to analyze, as illustrated in this chapter. Narratives about desires, personal “realization,” and fate are lost in the notion that justifications beyond “providing for children” are deemed inappropriate and unfitting to the moralities and ethics of motherhood. These narratives emerged later in my interviews with women and are not discussed as being part of the “myths” and “symbols” of motherhood used and created by mothers and grandmothers. They are instead part of an idea of womanhood that may not be connected to the idea of motherhood.
This chapter demonstrated how ideals and practices of motherhood that may seem at odds are actually adaptations of what mothers consider to be “good” and “caring” mothers. The dualism of “good and bad” mothers is part of the narrative of women, however the reality appears to be more nuanced. The very act of leaving and migrating represents a “break” in the nexus of motherhood that includes physical presence. However, for many this act is justified by the very reason of trying to be a good mother and care for one’s children. I addressed the meanings mothers attach to the idea of a good mother, feelings of guilt and sacrifice, and the importance of supporting their families. The issues at play are more complex than discussions of empowered migrant women versus migrant women reproducing the reality of the host society. An analysis that focuses solely on dichotomies loses sight of the shifting gendered ideologies of motherhood within the migration context. Gemma’s story complements the results of more than 40 interviews and observations with the other constellations: intergenerational relationships between women contribute to constructions of the ideals behind caregiving and transnational motherhood; personal desires feed motivations to migrate, but are quickly suppressed beneath the perceived duty of how a mother should care for a child; and women are not contradicting ideas of motherhood learned from their mothers in Mexico, they are using those concepts to create new forms of mothering from afar. They struggle to deal with the guilt that stems from the sacrifices associated with their decisions just as much as they crave the idea of family.
INTERLUDE 2
When Caregivers and Mothers Don’t Get Along
After spending time in the South Bronx for a few weeks I befriended Dora, the owner of a small restaurant and grocery store called Mercado San Marcos. Dora was from a town in Puebla I had visited before. I told her about my research and that I was hoping to speak with mothers who had children in both Mexico and the United States. Dora told me about Aruna. I left my business card with Dora and told her to give it to Aruna when she had a chance. The next day I received a phone call from Aruna. She was the first mother to voluntarily get in touch with me. We arranged for me to go to her house and meet her. She said her sons would be in school, so she had a few hours to talk to me. The next day I went to see Aruna’s house, where I pressed the buzzer and she let me in. I walked up three flights of stairs and could not help but notice that there were 20 apartments per floor. I could hear loud music coming from the different apartments and a strong smell of marijuana. I heard loud men’s voices. I heard young children’s loud voices. I heard arguments about how loud the music was. I heard dogs barking. I finally arrived at Aruna’s door and knocked. She opened the door slightly to see who it was. I smiled and greeted her. She closed the door quickly and unlocked a few locks in to let me in. I walked into a one-bedroom apartment with a small living room, a kitchen, and a bathroom. The apartment was 550 square feet. Marco, Aruna’s husband, slept on the couch in the living room. Aruna slept in the bedroom with her three sons: six-year-old Carlito, four-year-old Kiki, and four-month-old Pablo. There was also another person living with them named Tami. Tami rented a bed and paid $200 a month. She was only there for the weekend since she was a live-in housekeeper for a family in the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Tami also had left her children behind in Mexico, but they were now aged 30 and 33. She was a transnational grandmother.
As we started talking in the kitchen, I asked Aruna to walk me through her life from the time she was born to whatever she knew about her own mother and father’s life history and her decision to migrate. Aruna got nervous and her eyes filled up with tears. Aruna was 26 and looked even younger. She was rocking Pablo’s bouncer with her left foot as she began to tell me her story:
You know … my life was hard, but now I have been blessed. I can’t complain. I don’t know from where to start because some things make me feel really sad. I have been depressed and anxious and I didn’t want to get out of the house. I cried for no reason and I didn’t want to work. Some days are still bad, but I look at my precious miracle, my baby and try to get on … move on, you know?
Aruna told me that her life before moving to the United States had been difficult. Aruna’s mother, Clara, lives in Catlas, south of Mexico City, and Aruna lived with her mother until 2005 when she moved to the United States. Her mother was an immigrant herself and spent eight months in California when Aruna was seven years old. Aruna described those eight months as “sad in the beginning, then I got used to it.” She explained to me that while her mother was gone she forgot her mother’s face and that felt sad. She remembered making an effort to visualize her mother’s face and all she could see was a blurred image. During that time Aruna stayed with her aunt, who lived across the street. She didn’t remember speaking to her mother much during that time, but she did remember receiving gifts. When Clara returned, they went back to living together and Clara quickly found a boyfriend. “El Señor,” as Aruna described, “was nice to me in the beginning.” After a few years Clara and her boyfriend broke up. She began going out frequently and bringing home different men. Aruna described their relationship as turbulent because Clara always criticized Aruna, calling her names and being aggressive.
During her teenage years Aruna began seeing a man called Vicente. At sixteen Aruna got pregnant and had her first daughter, Elvira. While she was pregnant she married Vicente because, according to her, “if you get pregnant and the father is there, you have to get married, you can’t be a single mother … it doesn’t look good.” One year later Aruna gave birth to Kaia. She was seventeen years old and had two babies. Aruna worked at her mother’s grocery store where they sold chicken and tortillas.
Aruna told me that Vicente began to drink heavily; she would ask him to go buy diapers or milk and he would come back empty-handed and smelling like alcohol. Aruna described herself as someone who speaks her mind. I agreed. She told Vicente that he was a “bad” father and that he didn’t care about her or their two daughters. Aruna told me that from that day on she began to suffer regular beatings. Vicente slapped and punched her in her face, arms, and legs. “He never touched my babies, never!” she told me. After a few months of ongoing violence, Clara told Aruna to bring her children and move in. Aruna packed her bags and went back to her mother’s house. Vicente began a campaign to get Aruna to move back with him. He asked her for forgiveness, spoke to Clara, got a better job, and stopped drinking. Aruna went back to live with him. She moved out again a month later and did that three more times. Clara was fed up with the constant back and forth and finally threatened Aruna, saying that if Aruna left her house again she would keep the girls and raise them herself. Aruna decided to leave Vicente for good and moved to her mother’s house permanently. Clara had gotten back together with “El Señor,” her former boyfriend. Aruna got along with him at first. However, after a few months living together, Carlos started to drink. He would come home intoxicated and harass Aruna. She told me, “If I was cleaning the floor or cooking he would try to touch me and say stuff like ‘you are so pretty’ or ‘I want you.’ I told my mother and she got mad at him and he promised to stop. He told her he was just joking around.” After that happened, Carlos
stopped harassing her for a while, until one day:
I was in the shower and my daughters were in the bedroom. One in the crib and the other in the little walking chair. My mother had given me specific orders not to give that idiot the truck keys because she knew he would be drunk. He got home drunk, that dog. He was so drunk he couldn’t stand up. I got out of the shower and went to my mother’s bedroom to get her conditioning cream. I had a towel wrapped around me and I was putting cream in my hair. He walked in the room and started harassing me … “I want you” … “you are so young and I know you haven’t had sex in a long time, I know you want it too.” I started screaming at him telling him to get out … he started to call me names, “puta,” everything you can imagine. Then he said “give me the truck keys” and I said no … he started saying “you better give me the truck keys” and I felt like if I didn’t give him the truck keys he would do something to me. So I grabbed the keys and threw them at him and screamed “chinga tu madre, pendejo” (go fu** your mother, you a**hole). And he left.
When her mother returned home, Aruna told her what had happened, and Clara told her that Carlos would not be coming back home ever again. Aruna told me, “I felt protected by her. She held me and said that nothing bad would ever happen to me.” A few days passed and Aruna saw the truck in the driveway. Carlos was back in the house and her mother said she wanted to have a conversation with Aruna.
Clara told her that if Aruna wanted to continue living with her, they would have to establish certain boundaries. Carlos and Aruna were not to be in the same room of the house together at the same time. This included the living room, kitchen, bathroom, and patio. Clara also said that Aruna was to stay away from Carlos because she “provoked” many of their encounters, so it was better for both if they stayed away. At that time Elvira was three and Kaia was about to turn two. Aruna described feeling abandoned, lonely, and with no prospect of a “better life.” That was when her cousin Ana came to her with an idea: Why not go to the United States? Her cousin told her she had been in touch with a guy who was living in New York and he was also from Catlas. Ana said that this guy, Marco, could help them financially to get to New York and find work. Ana said he knew the right coyotes and had work ready for them as soon as they arrived there. Aruna asked to speak to him on the phone. Marco and Aruna started to talk on the phone for hours every day for the next two months. She told him everything that had happened in her life, about her mother, Carlos, Vicente, her daughters. Marco was against her going to the United States because of her daughters. Marco told me, “I didn’t want her to leave her children, so I told her not to come.” Clara had no idea that Aruna was talking to Marco or that she was considering going to the United States. Aruna convinced Marco to help her cross the border and find work. She did that by repeatedly telling him how hard it had been for her to live in the house with her mother and boyfriend and how she couldn’t walk around freely and felt that she had no one. Marco sent her the money and they arranged for her to cross through California and go to Los Angeles. From there she would board an airplane and fly to New York City. As often happens, when people decide to leave, it usually occurs within days. It was no different for Aruna. She received the money and planned to leave the next day. Her biggest concern was her two daughters. She did not want them to stay in that house with her mother and Carlos. Thus, she arranged to leave her daughters with Ana. She packed her daughters’ clothes and dropped them at her cousin’s house. Clara still didn’t know what was about to happen. Then Aruna told her mother: “I will take the girls to have ice cream and I will be back soon.” Clara replied with an emphatic no. Aruna insisted and Clara responded: “You never take your daughters for ice cream and you want to do it today?”
Aruna told me she had written a document in which she stated that she wanted to leave her children with her cousin. Clara told Aruna that she knew Aruna was planning something and that she would not let her take her girls. The car that was supposed to pick up Aruna and take her to Mexico City was about to arrive and Aruna saw herself at an impasse. She ultimately decided to go to the car and leave her two daughters in her mother’s care. As Aruna tells me this story she can barely complete a sentence. It took me multiple interviews to be able to complete this description, because Aruna was so distressed as she described the last moment she looked at her daughters’ eyes and said goodbye.
My own mother hated me. She despised me. I never wanted my daughters to think that I left them because I didn’t love them. Never. My mother was only able to have me, she miscarried many times and in my village we think that God is punishing you when that happens. She got bitter and resented how quickly I got pregnant and can you imagine I have five kids now? So I left her. I left them. I left everything behind and I didn’t look back. When people say, “your heart breaks,” I think it’s true. It breaks and never glues back again. I told my two daughters, “I’ll be right back” and it has been almost seven years now. In the beginning I blamed my mother. She resented me, she mistreated me, she miscarried, and she left me. I wanted to break out of that situation. But now I feel divided because if I hadn’t come here I wouldn’t have had my three boys. But now the consequence is that my daughters think I am their older sister.
Aruna’s journey to cross was hard. She told me it took her more than 45 days to arrive in Los Angeles. She walked 10 hours almost every day, only resting during the day when border patrol was doing their search. Aruna became close to an older man who was bringing his grandson with him. She took care of the child during the crossing and the man protected her. She also cooked for the men in her group (36 men and 4 women). The other women were married and crossing with their husbands. When she got to Tijuana there was a van with clean clothes and they drove to Los Angeles. She called Marco and he told her he would fly her to New York the next day. Aruna told me she didn’t feel “ready”:
I knew that the moment I arrived in New York I would have to be with him. And he is such a great man, but I didn’t feel ready. So the man I met in the crossing had two nephews and one of them was married. They all lived together in an apartment and the woman [nephew’s wife] cleaned houses … she said I could go with her to clean and she would give me $20 each time. She also said I could live there with them. So I lived there for one month. I cooked for them, cleaned, and did everything around the house. But then the other brother wanted to have sex with me … and I didn’t want to. I called Marco and told him I wanted to get to New York.
Marco was working when Aruna landed in La Guardia airport in New York City. He sent someone to pick her up and take her to his apartment. When she arrived at his apartment, as she described it, “there was a towel on his bed with a toothbrush and toothpaste, new clothes, a cold beer, and a pack of cigarettes.” She took a shower and changed. Marco shared the apartment with three other men, but each had his room. After she showered and changed, she sat on the bed and drank the beer. Marco soon entered the room, greeted her, and asked her how her trip went. Aruna and Marco talked, drank, and smoked for hours. Marco was expecting them to sleep together and they did. Aruna told me that she was shocked at how ugly he was, but that he was very nice. A couple of weeks later Aruna found out she was pregnant with Carlito. She called her mother to tell her the news and her mother responded, “you went there to work not to have babies.” Marco has helped Aruna send remittances to Elvira and Kaia; they sent toys, money, and clothes.
Aruna’s relationship with Clara deteriorated further. Aruna called her daughters but Clara would lie and say that they were not home. Clara started telling the girls that she gave birth to both of them. Clara told me she showed them pictures of them as babies and pointed to her belly, affirming that they came from her. Aruna sent toys but Clara would intercept them and gift it to the girls saying that she bought them. When I visited Clara and the girls for the first time, I was not allowed to tell them Aruna was their mother or say “I’m a friend of your mother.” Clara told me it was the best thing she could do for Elvira and Kaia. I w
as only allowed to take the girls to a McDonalds and hang out with them during the day. I went to a Mother’s Day event at their school and the girls wrote beautiful cards to their grandmother. They asked me about their “big sister” and about the boys: Carlito, Kiki, and Pablo. I showed them pictures, but always under Clara’s supervision.
As I sat in Aruna’s kitchen for the sixth day in a row listening to the story of how it all began, Carlito came home from school. When he entered the house he saw his mom crying and said, “is she talking about the ‘bad grandma’ again? She always cries when she talks about the bad grandma.” Clara has said that it is too late now for Aruna to go back to being a family with her daughters. But Aruna was adamant (like all of them were) that there is a bright and happy future ahead of her.
To make things worse, Aruna was evicted for a second time and had to move to a new apartment a few blocks away. Her new apartment was a two-bedroom, and Tami, her weekend renter, shared a room with the boys. Tami was about 60 years old. I arrived at Aruna’s house to see the new place and she had a friend visiting. It was a hot summer day and they were having watermelon and chatting. After about an hour at the apartment we went to pick up Carlito, age six, from school. Her friend Irma held Pablo, aged four months, the entire time. Irma told me that Aruna was too rough with the kids and that she needed to be more loving with them. On our way back from school, Aruna told me about a big fight she had with her mother on the phone just a day before:
I was talking to my aunt and asked her if the amount of money I was sending my mother was enough. I found out that my mom was saying that ever since I left I ruined her financially. She said she paid the police a lot of money to look for me when I went to the US. So I called my cousin to ask him how much money did my mom actually pay because he was the police … and he said “mi hija, I didn’t ask your mom to pay me or to give me any money.” So when I was on the phone with my mom I told her that and she got upset with me and said that she had to sell her car and polleria because of me. And I told her, that’s not true; you ruined yourself because of Daniel. You wanted to have him in the house as a papi chulo (sugar daddy) and now you blame me.
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