Under this auspice, parents and families are once again faced with the imminent threat of separation, but now from those who were born in the United States. In Everyday Illegal (2015), Joanna Dreby describes the “sudden single mother” phenomenon where targeted undocumented men are being detained and deported, leaving women to care for their children on their own in the United States. Many of these men are unable to return to the United States or to send “reverse remittances” from the Mexican side, since they cannot secure jobs that pay as much. This reverse rupture is causing families to have to address illegality inside the home and discuss measures and action plans with their children. As I continued to visit the families who participated in this research, I witnessed numerous conversations and instructions that parents were giving their children if something were to happen to them. During one instance, Gemma tried to explain to her daughter what she should do if something were to happen to her and her husband:
GEMMA: Hija, do you know why we can’t travel to Mexico to see your grandparents and your sister?
YAZMIN: Because it’s dangerous there.
GEMMA: No, not really. The reality is that we don’t have the paperwork to travel. Like the papers that the government gives you that says “this person is free [emphasis added] to travel to one side and to another side … understand?
YAZMIN: Why don’t you have these papers? Do I have these papers?
GEMMA: You do … because you were born here. But I don’t and your father doesn’t because we weren’t born here … it’s complicated … but we have been trying to get these papers for a long time, hija.
YAZMIN: Why can’t you get it? [PAUSE]
GEMMA: Because of politicians … and now the president. He doesn’t want to let more people “be from here.” But when you’re older you will be able to travel to Mexico and come back without a problem. But I want to tell you another thing … because the politicians and the police don’t want more people to be from here they can ask us to leave.
YAZMIN: Move out of the house?
GEMMA: No … leave the country. Go back to Mexico once and for all. And if that happens … if they take us, the first thing you will do is call and stay with Aunt Frida. She will take care of you and your brother until we can take you guys with us. OK?
At that moment, panic set in for Yazmin. Her face was flushed and her eyes got teary. She asked her mother to explain how long that separation would last and why would this happen to them. Gemma calmly told her that there was no need to be upset because they already had a plan, and that it would probably be two to three weeks until they would all be together. In fact, there is tremendous variation in the length of time to reunification for a family taken by law enforcement. Gemma was doing her best to keep her daughter in the loop, without expecting her to react as an adult.
GEMMA: Hija, please know that our separation would be brief, would be quick. I want you to be prepared. And specially to take care of your brother.
YAZMIN: But mamá, what about his skin disease and all the doctors and creams and medicine. How am I going to do that?
GEMMA: Aunt Frida will help you and it will be quick. I make you a promise. A life promise. I will not abandon you [emphasis added].
Transnational care constellations are shaken up once again and potentially broken up only to find themselves having to reorganize care.
From an education policy perspective, this book shines light on the complex issue of school performance and the education experience of Latinos, especially Mexicans. The list of education-related outcomes in which Latinos, but especially Mexicans, trail other ethnic groups is striking. It includes achievement test performance at age five and younger; performance in reading and math at grades 4, 8, and 12; high school grade point average; and rates of high school graduation, college attendance, and college degree completion. I designed this research in such a way that I was able to move from homes to schools in both countries and understand the challenges and hardships these families face in both Mexico and New York City. I observed children and youth coming home after school in a small village in Puebla and finding their grandparents unable to help them with homework, while their US-born siblings experienced similar difficulties as their mothers were not able to understand enough English to help them with homework. Teachers on both sides of the border described the relationships at home as an issue for the academic achievement of children and youth. I found girls in Mexico to have four times more housework than boys, leaving them little time to do homework and readings. Grandmothers explained to me that since the girls’ mothers had immigrated, their daughters had to “step up” and take on their mothers’ “jobs.”
In addition, this ethnography contributes to the development of a research agenda and topics to be explored regarding larger immigration reform. Migration has been constantly associated with development (Glick Schiller, 2012). This nexus needs to be untangled as we assess not only who the participants are in migration movements, but also with whom they remain connected. This book contributes to debates on immigration, education, and gender while also adding to the discussion and the debates on how the United States and Mexico will deal with the effects of a broader immigration policy, mixed-status, and mixed spatial families in the coming years.
What’s Next?
It is perhaps fitting to close this book by discussing an instance of family reunification. By 2013, Brianna and Fernanda, who had been apart for more than three years, were finally sharing the same apartment in Jackson Heights, New York City. Based on the longing I knew each had for the other, when I arrived at their apartment two months after Fernanda had moved to New York City, I expected to see very loving interactions. Contrary to my expectations, I found both women wanting to vent about the experiences of living together. Brianna had lost weight, and when I asked her what she was doing differently, she told me, “Zumba!” I distinctly remember Brianna while she was pregnant and after she gave birth. She had little energy and told me she felt extremely depressed and missed her daughters in Mexico. She also developed type II diabetes during her pregnancy. After enduring a traumatic birthing experience, she had experienced postpartum depression. “Now,” she explained to me, “I have her [pointing to Fernanda] … she helps me with everything … I mean she helps me when she is not upset and complaining. That is all she does, complains and gets sad … I don’t know why. Do you?” I did not have an answer for Brianna; I had one too many guesses.
Fernanda told me how her crossing went. She was born in the United States, so she did not have to worry about her legal status when she was crossing into the country. Ronald and Brianna did not have enough money to pay for air fare, so they trusted friends to bring Fernanda by car from Puebla all the way to New York City. It took almost two weeks for Fernanda to arrive in New York, as they went to Chicago first. She told me she slept in the car every day and developed a chronic pain in her neck. Fernanda was still upset as she walked me through her journey. At the end of her story she had tears in her eyes and asked me, “Why did they bring me here?” Brianna overheard Fernanda saying that and quickly responded: “Your sisters would die to be here in your place, don’t be so ungrateful.”
Eventually, Fernanda grew fond of her new American school in Jackson Heights. As an English Language Learner student, she picked up English faster than other students in her class and showed tremendous versatility and adaptation when using slang and new vocabulary while interacting with friends. She became an instant fan of American pop music and an avid user of online social networks. She was already a good student in Mexico, but she was even better after she moved to New York City. Her grades were consistently in the 90th percentile and she was proud to show me her assignments. Like the transnational students described by Hamann et al. (2008) from their study in Nuevo León, Fernanda seemed to have figured out how to move between the two systems.
Fernanda and Brianna’s relationship continued to be challenging. Fernanda was left to care for her baby brother for hours every day.
Brianna was working again, making decorations for parties in the neighborhood, and Ronald continued to work seven days a week, almost 18 hours a day. Fernanda sent me text messages asking me to visit when I had a chance. She told me that because of her baby brother she could not get out of the house much to hang out with her friends. During one of my visits, I asked Fernanda what her favorite thing was about being in the United States and she told me: “School, I love school here. We use computers all the time, the teachers are nice, and I am making new friends. I really like learning English, but I wish I had more time.” When I asked Fernanda what she meant by that, she said, “My mother treats me like her little slave … not even mamá Leila [her grandmother caregiver] did that to me. It’s almost like I have more chores here and my mamá is trying to teach me a lesson or something. Doesn’t she know I already cleaned a lot in my life?”
This reunification story represented yet another facet in the transnational care constellation. After being separated for a few years, what happens to mothers and their children when they reunite? I noticed that Brianna continued to have high expectations in terms of academic achievement for her daughter. Brianna constantly asked Fernanda if she had done homework and how well was she learning English; she pressured Fernanda to stay in the United States and pursue higher education. Fernanda’s response to her mother was: “I still want to be in Mexico for my quinceñera (equivalent of a sweet sixteen), you promised.” All of her previous thoughts on reunification with her family were no longer prevalent in her responses. Fernanda reportedly felt “split” between Mexico and the United States. She loved her new friends and school in Queens, but she felt that she was accumulating more household tasks in her new home. Brianna, on the other hand, developed a new narrative of sacrifice; she said to Fernanda more than once, “I brought you here, I saved all this money to bring you here and give you more opportunities and this is how you react? I’m tired of the complaining.”
The chain reactions unleashed by transnational migration are bigger than what we know. The story of reunification between Brianna and Fernanda only begins to scratch the surface. How is Fernanda going to fare in school in the future? Will she eventually want to go back to Mexico? And now that Brianna’s romanticized ideas of reunification have not played out, will she want to return to Mexico or bring her other daughters to New York City? When she was pregnant, she told me over and over that as soon as he was born and was allowed to travel, she would pack her bags and go back to Mexico to be with her daughters and help her mother. In my last formal interview with Brianna, she told me she did not know if it was a good idea to be in the same physical space as all her other daughters, because they have grown used to the distance. She also wondered aloud, “What if they start hating me … like Fernanda? … Isn’t it better for us to stay like this? I send them money and gifts and they need me [emphasis added]. If I’m there are they going to need me? Are they going to forgive me?”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book would have been impossible without the generous time and the openness of the incredible families I was lucky to work with in the last five years. The women in these families presented me with strength, perseverance, and love. The children and youth in both Mexico and New York City showed me flexibility, wit, and good humor. I am forever thankful for their trust and for letting me into their homes, their hearts, and their stories.
First and foremost, I would like to thank my advisor, mentor, teacher, and inspiration, Lesley Bartlett. It is truly impossible to thank her enough for her constant support, infinite edits, and insights that not only changed the way I look at research, but also changed the way I look at life. She taught me how to teach, how to read critically, how to write better, how to present at conferences, how to present myself and my ideas, and she encouraged me to persist every step of the way. It has been an honor to work with her as her advisee and colleague.
To Lila Abu-Lughod, whose work and teachings inspired me from my very first week in graduate school when I begged her to be in her class. She pushed me to follow people’s stories and engage in an in-depth ethnography. She read multiple drafts and commented on almost every page of each one of them. She showed me tireless support even when life was challenging. Her work inspired me to write with women and about women without losing track of ideas about gender roles throughout the world. To Claudio Lomnitz, a renaissance man with whom I spent hours discussing each part of this book. From theory to practice, Claudio always helped me figure out how to analyze the data I had. From Mexico to New York City he always found time to talk to me and enlighten me with his never-ending knowledge. He believed in me and in my work and pushed me to make bolder conclusions and take risks while writing. To Hervé Varenne, who taught me my first ethnography class and supported me through the very tough first two years of this program. Always encouraging, but with hard questions, he made me a better researcher and ethnographer. To Joanna Dreby, who has always been incredibly available and who helped me clarify and streamline my thoughts, think through my data, and reflect on the contribution of my work. Her work represents the very research that has inspired me to do my own.
I would like to thank my colleagues and friends who did more than support me throughout this time. Their work has inspired me every day. They listened to me, gave me constructive feedback, and encouraged me to keep going. I was lucky to be in your company, Jennifer Van Tiem, Michael Scroggins, and Scott Freeman.
Throughout the years, friends and colleagues have inspired me and cheered me on when I was feeling unsure. Thank you, Juliette De Wolfe, Karishma Desai, Diana Rodriguez, Roshan Shah, Casey Ehrlich Rollow, Jill Williams, Katherine Brown, Mila Burns, Marina Mansur, Ana Sarkovas, and Mariana Oliva. To mentors who read my work and gave me incredible feedback, Charles Harrington, Sonya Michel, Yasmine Ergas, Deborah Boehm, Ted Hamann, Grey Gundaker and Dan MaCintyre, I am so thankful. To Tawnya Fey for helping me get my verbs in order. To Marjorie Faulstich Orellana, who motivated me and worked with me in important moments during the writing process and with whom I had some of the most meaningful conversations about immigrant experiences. To the students I taught in the last decade, thank you for challenging me every day.
To my friends in Mexico who welcomed me into their homes, connected me to people, and allowed me into their field sites so I could recruit participants. First, to Regina Cortina, who introduced me to Valentina. To Valentina Glockner, a great friend and researcher who made my research possible and introduced me to the best researchers in Puebla. To Julio Glockner (and the entire Glockner family) and Antonella Fagetti, my Mexican family, who fed me, gave me a place to stay, allowed me to use their car, treated me like a daughter, and shared their wisdom about Mexico with me. To Brenda Stephany Ramírez, Monica Perera, and Claudia Axel Ramírez for all your help with the workshops and surveys in Puebla and for giving me a home away from home.
Without funding, I would not have been able to complete my fieldwork or write this book. Thank you to the Institute of Latin American Studies at Columbia University Grant which allowed me to start my fieldwork in Mexico. To the Provost Research Grant at Teachers College, to the Myra Sadker Foundation, and especially to the National Academy of Education/ Spencer Foundation Grant for allowing me the time to write this book and for providing the best environment for me to discuss and workshop my work. To Shirley Brice Heath and Stanton Wortham, my mentors at Spencer Foundation and my cohort who helped me focus as I was writing.
My sincere thank you to Jennifer Hammer, editor at NYU Press, who believed in the project and provided some of the most helpful reviews I could ask for. Thank you to Amy Klopfenstein, who was so patient and diligent throughout the whole process. To all the external reviewers who were so generous with their time and advice—Especially to Alyshia Gálvez. Her writing is a work of art, and she was so giving and open-minded about my project and provided me with extremely detailed feedback. I would also like to thank colleagues at the Lynch School of Education at Boston College for their encouragement and
excitement about my work. To Andrés Castro Samayoa and Jon Wargo, thank you for the most genuine support I could have asked for.
The most generous support has come from my parents, Newton and Blenda. They have always encouraged me to pursue my dreams and goals, even when that meant traveling to uncertain places with little communication available. I thank them for their unconditional support, for teaching me about family and love. I only hope to make them as proud of me as I am grateful for them. I am also thankful for my wonderful sisters Caroline and Michelle and my brothers-in-law Lee and Renato. Even from afar, Carol (in Los Angeles) and Mica (in São Paulo) made sure I knew how they felt about my work, always encouraging me and letting me chat away about immigration. We built our own transnational care constellation. I am also thankful for my godson Martin, who only encourages me to fight for a better and more just world. To Francina who taught me so much about love and care. To Nancy and Greg and the entire Thome and Backes family for being my strongest cheerleaders and always being so interested and excited about my work.
Finally, I would like to thank my partner and superhero husband, Alex Thome. This was a family project in a sense that he gave me infinite love and support for me to travel, do fieldwork, talk about my work, and write for hours straight without ever asking for anything in return. I have learned so much from his generosity. I am blessed to have him by my side. We’ve had millions of conversations about my work at every stage, he helped recruit participants, he did fieldwork with me on the weekends, he helped me design surveys, he formatted all my documents, he read everything I have ever written, and he probably knows my research better than I do. I can say with confidence that I would not have made it this far without him.
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