Motherhood across Borders

by Gabrielle Oliveira

  Even though all mothers in this study aimed to provide all their children with emotional and financial support, if they themselves did not experience stability at home, caregivers in Mexico would be the first to feel the difference. However, in interviews with them, all caregivers but one told me they did not share with the children the fact that their mothers would stop sending resources from time to time. Instead, children and youth were constantly told that they had to do well in school in order to receive gifts or money. Even though grandmothers did their best not to pass along the difficulties mothers would experience in New York City, as they got older youth started to inquire about financial support and emotional presence in the form of phone calls and gifts. They wanted to know if their siblings in New York City were receiving more attention and care than they were.

  Caregivers in Mexico, with the exception of Aruna’s mother, tried to hide the fact that there were issues with remittances on occasion. Thus, even when there was financial instability for mothers in New York, caregivers were able to remedy the situation by selling animals or requesting family loans in the small Mexican pueblos.

  That created tensions for caregivers in Mexico, but did not necessarily affect the material resources available for them in the house. Nonetheless, children and youth in Mexico felt a lack of emotional support and attention from their mothers in New York City. Families in Mexico owned their homes and had a network of family support.

  Almost all the families in Mexico were able to invest some of the money received into small stores and animals that guaranteed children’s livelihoods for a period of time. The consequences of mothers’ stability (or instability) were more evident in availability of school-related items—field trips, additional books, and school supplies. The activities and materials were sometimes restricted because of lack of remittances, so if mothers in New York City were laid off from their jobs or separated from their husbands, children in Mexico felt the lack of financial support almost immediately. There was not much room for savings and no families in this study had bank accounts.

  Schooling Experiences

  On both sides of the border the external environment where children were being raised either aided in or added stress to finding work and attending and/or staying in school. I argue that there was more variation in the quality of the education children and youth experienced in New York City than in the towns researched in Mexico. In this section I compare the schooling experiences of separated siblings in Mexico and in New York City and their expectations with regard to social opportunities where they lived.

  Schooling in Mexico

  According to a 2012 OECD report, Mexico has achieved one of the highest enrollment rates of four-year-old children among OECD countries since making pre-primary education compulsory. The country still faces challenges such as high student-teacher ratios in early education. In the last decade the country watched its graduation rates at the upper secondary level increase by 14 percent. Still, less than half of all students are expected to graduate. Out of the 64 children I observed and interviewed in Mexico, 11 dropped out in high school. This number is high; there were only 19 high school age youth in the sample.

  All the children and youth in Mexico who participated in this study lived in houses where their own mothers had grown up. These houses, in most cases, had been refurbished—a floor was added, rooms were built, bathrooms were installed inside the house. The outside of these homes remained the same—large backyards with animals. The towns where I conducted research in Mexico ranged from rural to urban. There was variation in the landscape, labor conditions, politics, and economics within each of the states. However, the point here is to address how children and youth interacted with the surroundings of their hometowns as well their schools and how those interactions, coupled with their relationships with caregivers and migrant mothers, impacted their opportunities and experiences. In the places I worked, finishing eighth grade was the goal of children, youth, and caregivers. “If he continues after that, what a blessing!” Clarisa, a grandmother caregiver, told me. In these small towns, finding a job or migrating to the United States sometimes seemed like a better investment of time than going to school.

  Children and youth in Mexico missed classes for reasons such as helping grandparents at home with the animals, going to visit family far away, or having visitors [like me] in the house. Sometimes they just did not want to go to school. Caregivers were lenient and did not enforce school attendance like mothers in New York City. There was also not much accountability in terms of grading homework, providing feedback, and involving parents in curriculum discussion. In the eight constellations I spent the most time with in Mexico, I was able to observe children in school and at home. Their textbooks often contained incomplete answers for homework and some of the teachers did not check the books to see if the tasks were done. During my three years of research I never heard participants describe meeting with guidance counselors, attending career fairs, or receiving information about ways to get financial support to attend university. There was interest from the families, but it was unclear if schools provided space or information about higher education or work opportunities.

  Schoolteachers interviewed in different schools in Mexico reported that the academic performance of children dropped steeply in three situations that stem from migration issues: (1) when there is a rupture and a parent migrates; (2) when children in Mexico hear about parents who are in the United States getting a divorce or separating and starting new families; and (3) when one parent returns and the children have to adapt to new realities. However, four teachers and the principal at one school in the state of Morelos observed a difference in children’s academic performance when the mother was the one who migrated, especially among children who were originally raised by a single mother. Maria Fernanda, the principal of one school, told me: “I don’t know how many children who have migrant mothers drop out, but what I do know is that the ones who have their mothers as migrants talk more about trying to cross [migrate to the United States].” Schoolteachers reported that children and especially boys between the ages of 11 and 14 who had recently been separated from their mothers could have two very distinct reactions: (1) “shut down” and not speak to anyone in class; or (2) “rebel,” that is, start fights, behave rudely, and skip classes.

  Teachers also reported that children with one or both migrant parents often exhibited classroom behavior that was “spacey” or “not engaged.” Teachers did not differentiate behavior among boys and girls, but they did note a difference in the impact of paternal and maternal migration. One middle school teacher described a class, “when we asked about the occupation of their fathers, children [with a migrant father] raised their hands and said, ‘my dad is in El Norte,’ but when I asked about mothers’ occupation, no one from those who had migrant mothers wanted to talk about it.” When I asked this teacher what he thought was the reason the children were not talking about the occupation of their mothers, he continued, “I think there is something to do with feeling abandoned … see, in this town it is normal and it has been normal for fathers to leave to el Norte, not for mothers, do you understand?” This insight was reinforced during a focus group I conducted with children who had recently experienced maternal separation. The majority of the children were quick to talk about their father’s occupation in the United States. Some were proud to tell stories of their fathers riding bikes in streets of some big city in the United States doing delivery services. However, the tone and excitement changed when children talked about their migrant mothers. I asked them why it was not as exciting to talk about their mother’s occupation. Seven-year-old Lila told me, “The mamás are the ones who feed us, take care of us, hug us … I didn’t want her to go.”

  Teachers reported that maternal migration instigates migration aspirations among children. Ernestina, a teacher with 22 years of experience, seemed worried about children’s futures: “The problem is, children with fathers living in the United States already t
hink about moving there … but then when the mamá leaves, por Dios, their desire to go be with their mothers is even stronger!” Franco, a physical education teacher, also shared his thoughts: “It’s a combination, there is not much to aspire to be in this town and then there are all the stories about the North and some kids have almost all of their family members living there! Can you blame them [for wanting to migrate]?” These quotes suggest that maternal migration provokes migration aspirations among children, with potential consequences for children’s investment in schooling; this possibility deserves further research.

  The children in Mexico also had to negotiate complex relationships with their caregivers. Dreby (2007) showed that migrant parents did not always perceive the caregivers in Mexico to be active or invested in the academic performance of children. Even though I have found parents’ perspective in New York City to corroborate Dreby’s findings, my research suggested that each relationship had its own dynamic. Some grandmothers required children to attend school, reminding them of their mother’s sacrifice; however, working grandmothers had little time to support the children academically and non-working grandmothers often lacked the cultural and social capital to feel comfortable doing it. According to one teacher, “We don’t know what to do, because sometimes you see that they [the children] are putting effort into learning, but when they go home they have no support, especially if the grandparents run a farm or have a job where they are all day.”

  Indeed, in my study, most of the caregivers had full- or part-time jobs, which limited their ability to be home with the children. Another teacher complained, “Not only do they not do their homework, but they come to school wearing filthy uniforms, their nails are dirty, their feet are dirty … that’s when you see the impact of the mother’s absence (como hace falta la mamá)!” It is interesting that the teacher blamed the absence of mothers rather than the lack of funds for multiple shirts, dirt floors in the homes, or the dirt road leading to the school.

  Tensions between students and teachers in Mexico did seem intense when children’s caregivers were older grandparents who worked all day, did not read or write, and felt intimidated going to school and talking to teachers and principals. Principals and teachers seemed to have very little patience and willingness to help. They would set up appointments with grandparents, who were the caregivers, but would not see them or offer no help filling out papers and forms. There was a perception that grandparents lacked “education” to comprehend the demands of youth and children in school.

  Schooling in New York City

  The varied socioeconomic and educational backgrounds of immigrant families can affect a child’s opportunities and experiences in different ways. Parents with more resources can settle in more affluent and integrated neighborhoods that typically offer better schools for their children. Conversely, parents of more limited means will tend to gravitate to poorer neighborhoods where they are likely to find inferior schools. The neighborhood shapes the lives of immigrants’ children in many ways. Concentrated poverty is associated with chronic underemployment or unemployment and youth must look for work somewhere else. Other factors, however, play important roles. Even though I conducted research in four boroughs in New York City, I will focus on the experiences of children and youth in preschools and kindergarten through fifth grade schools in Sunset Park, Brooklyn and in the South Bronx.

  Schools and space. In different interviews with community members of Sunset Park, the word revival came up multiple times. Even though it was hard for members of the community to pinpoint when this revival started, other government documents suggest that it was in the 1970s. It is estimated that about half of Sunset Park’s 100,000 residents are Hispanic (Natrella, 2013). They include a large number of Dominicans, as well as Ecuadorians, Nicaraguans, and Puerto Ricans, and, recently, many Mexicans from the state of Puebla. I spent time at the Center for Family Services in Sunset Park, which provides assistance to immigrants regardless of their legal status, job placement, filing taxes, and making school choices. According to the New York City Department of Housing Preservation and Development, Sunset Park is bounded by 65th Street to the south, Prospect Expressway to the north, Eighth Avenue and Greenwood Cemetery on the east, and New York Bay on the west.

  Maria Fernanda lived in Sunset Park. Her daughters attended a public elementary school close to their home and she had a very positive outlook on their schooling experiences. Both Mariana and Rosa woke up excited to go to school, had pictures with their teachers on the refrigerator, and looked forward to attending school functions. Gemma’s children, Yazmin and Alejandro Jr., who also went to school in Sunset Park, had great relationships with teachers and school staff and participated in weekend activities. Gemma served as field trip chaperone, coordinated a bake sale, and was extremely vocal at parents’ meetings about her safety concerns.

  The families in this study who resided in the South Bronx had a very different reality from the families in Sunset Park. Emilia, Violeta, and Aruna, among other South Bronx–based families, struggled not only with housing, work, and safety in their neighborhood, but also with overcrowded schools with limited resources and teachers who generally did not seem to care about the learning process of the children.

  None of these three women had a steady job. During the time of my research they swapped jobs a few times and ended up selling Herbalife products or Mary Kay makeup on a door-to-door basis. This type of business required acquiring debt in the beginning in order to buy the products. These women tried to host “meetings” in their homes so that they would not need to travel with the merchandise and their children in the subway. They also tried to time their sales when their children were in school. A common place to be in the afternoon was the Herbalife office. Dozens of women gathered with their children as they consumed the company’s products and sold other products to one another. Children would do school work in this office. During a normal day, moving from home to school to the Herbalife offices and then back home was part of the routine. Children and youth complained about feeling “locked in,” as Ramiro (age 12) described:

  I am not allowed to go to the park because there is violence and my mom will slap me if she finds out I went. In the house my father decides what is on TV and I don’t like the movies. In school … there is some time to play, but the P.E. teacher is always angry and cuts our time short. Sometimes I just want to run out, because I am always locked in.

  Bartlett and Garcia (2011) observed similar phenomena with Dominican youth in Washington Heights. In their study the youth described their perceived limitations in terms of public space, time, interpersonal trust, personal mobility, and safety with the expression of tranca’o meaning trancado—“locked up.” Even though US-born children and youth were not “missing” the freedom they once had (because the current reality was all they remembered), they wanted to be able to go out and play. In many instances I watched children sitting by the window looking out and begging their mothers and fathers to be allowed to go out. For the families in the South Bronx, the answer was always no. Emilia explained to me,

  One day I told Alonso he could go up and down the stairs of our apartment because he was driving me crazy. One of the neighbors got angry at his noise and screamed at him. He started crying so loud … I tell you it was so loud I didn’t know what to do … next thing I know there is a police officer in the building … I froze. I thought: “They are going to take him from me.” The police wanted to know why this child was screaming and if I was mistreating him. They gave me a warning! I didn’t understand anything.

  This situation was a common complaint of mothers in the South Bronx, Violeta told me: “If you leave your children in the care of others, the cops will show up and take them from you.” Lack of trust in neighbors and fears about safety outside kept children and youth inside crowded apartments.

  I accompanied mothers and their children on their trips to and from their schools. Parents sometimes used those moments at dismissal to ask the teacher
s a question and check in. In the two schools there was a clear divide between migrant mothers and teachers. One day I went with Aruna, Pablo (four-month-old baby), and Santino (age 4) to pick up Carlito (age 7). As we approached, we saw Carlito running toward us, crying and upset. Aruna rolled her eyes and commented, “This boy, again.” I asked Carlito what had happened and he told me he had gotten into a fight with another boy and the teacher blamed him for starting the fight. For a multitude of reasons, it was hard to understand who had started the fight and the teacher’s position. Aruna approached the teacher to ask her what had happened and the teacher, who was Puerto Rican, said, “Ai mami, you know, everything is a problem with this boy … he is so dramatic and cries for no good reason.” Carlito was indeed very sensitive and he absorbed much of the stress he witnessed from his parents. The situation Carlito described to me was the following, “We were in class and then we went to bathroom and then they locked me in there and turned the lights off … I was in the dark, I was left there in the dark [tears coming down his cheeks].” Another boy approached us and said, “We were all playing, we always play like that, he wasn’t alone!” As we started walking home, I asked Carlito if he thought he was alone in the bathroom and he told me, “My mom says that if I do something wrong she will give me to the police and I will never see her again.” Aruna then turned to him and said, “It’s true, if you don’t do well in school and behave yourself I’ll call the police and you know what they do with you here … they take you. Maybe then you will stop complaining about being locked in and start studying.”

  This situation illustrates a lack of trust in the school, teachers, police officers, and family. The idea of a “threat” was a constant trope in the lives of children and youth of these three families in the South Bronx. At the dinner table, conversations involved children and youth asking about news they had heard of people being stabbed locally and stories of violence in Mexico. Violeta, Aruna, and Emilia complained about the prejudice they felt, especially from African Americans. Children and youth contributed to the portrait their mothers presented by telling stories about school peers that were “mean.” As I explained in chapter 3, context is paramount in order to understand why these narratives of prejudice were present in the lives of these families in the South Bronx. Families had witnessed violence between Latinos and African Americans in the playgrounds, streets, bars, and grocery stores. Out of the seven constellations that lived in the South Bronx, six reported some sort of negative interaction with an African American neighbor, teacher, boss, or with unknown people in the streets. These interactions were discussed at length at home and children were involved in these conversations.