To the Latina I interviewed — this is what I remember from you
She was eleven when she left El Salvador with her mother and younger brother to join her father in the United States. The gangs in El Salvador and other internal violence led to her family’s decision to leave the country.
She spoke Spanish her entire life. Coming to the United States meant she had to learn English in a period of her development where the acquisition and mastery of a new language would present some difficulty. Her arrival to the United States meant that the innocence was lost to her as she began to traverse the racialized space of public schools — where her language, a Latina from South America, became a source of pain and isolation.
Her inability to quickly learn English meant she was placed into the special education classes with students who had other mental and behavioral challenges. She knew she did not possess any mental challenges or behavior challenges. In her walks to those classes, separating herself from the other students, she dealt with ridicule and the teasing from her peers. She said she did not understand why so many Black students would bully her, tease her when they too were more like her than the White students.
Speak English!
She attempted to learn but it was difficult — both her parents barely knew English. A teacher who refused to understand her did little to ease the discomfort of struggling with the language. And, in fact, she would only speak English to her — condescending and evoking an intonation of exclusion. She mentioned how she could no longer bear the torment anymore from the teacher, so she decided to run out of the classroom. It was perceived as an outburst of inappropriate behavior that required her to visit the school’s social worker.
She would cry, often and daily, and those around her designated her as depressed. She went to a hospital with doctors who knew no English — they too did little to understand her and labeled her depressed while prescribing medication. They placed words in her mind and into her mouth through their English with no desire to understand the causes of her so-called depression. Her parents attempted to understand, but they too struggled to try to navigate the mental health system with limited English and limited time due to working much and often.
She wanted to die then because no one attempted to understand. But she did not, and despite feeling worthless, something was telling her she was “worth’ something.
The American dream.
“The American dream, I knew my mom worked really hard for us to come here, so I just kept that in mind. My mom did this for me…so I just kept going, and my mom did everything she did to bring us here…”
The transition from middle to high school presented a greater challenge. She hated her first school because she continued to face bullying from peers and some teachers. So she stopped attending, and while her absences increased, the school threaten her mother that they would report her to social services.
She transferred to another high school, another chance. But here, while attempting to join different clubs, she faced those White students who would subtly communicate to her that she did not belong, that she was not welcomed there. She no longer tried to join clubs in this school. The Black girls were cruel as well — calling her names like immigrant, illegal, and how she needed to go back to her country. Teachers would turn their heads the other way, ignoring what they saw, and doing nothing. She refused to tell her parents. Many of the teachers she encountered did not care about her, did not want to learn about her.
Those things hurt, but she had to ignore their words, ignore it all.
She was often alone, then that changed when she had a child in high school. A new appreciation for life, for the pain she endured.
“If you here in the United States, you have all the opportunities. Now, I really appreciate everything, even the bad things that happened to me. Now, I appreciate learning, I appreciate school.”
She graduated from high school despite being a teenage mother. At first, she intended to graduate from high school and go to work. Her mother provided her with an ultimatum — work or go to school. She now had a child, she had persevered so many challenges, and had a different perspective. She went on to attend a community college before transitioning to a four-year university. Her time in the university was not easy, things were hard as she attempted to balance motherhood and being a student.
“I want something for my daughter, I want to give her a better life…Sometimes it is just so hard, sometimes I just want to drop out and not come anymore. But, I think I’ve come this far, and I don’t give up…I am the only one in my family who even graduated from high school. It makes my grandmother and grandfather really proud…so I feel like I just can’t stop.”
Her interview reminded me that some teachers genuinely value and care for all students. Some teachers are willing to provide safe spaces, who believe and encourage the students the schools often forget about or disregard. Her interview reminded me of mothers, grandparents, and close friends who tell us to believe in the possibility, who are models, and who defy limitations. Her interview reminded me that my work on race-related trauma can be narrow, can revictimize Black and Brown youth. I must acknowledge their agency, their resilience, and recognize how they discover ways to heal as they navigate the public education system.
Let this story guide you as you read it — to grasp hold of a world where we have more safe spaces for young people to feel nurtured, valued, and who believe that they too can access and live the American dream.
