I Don't Cry, But I Remember: A Mexican Immigrant's Story of Endurance

Chapter 8. Citizenship and Politics

171 8 Citizenship and Politics Donde está uno bien, allí está la patria. [Where I find my well-being, there is my country.] —Spanish dicho viviana still loved the country of her birth, indeed maintaining that some aspects of Mexican culture provide a much healthier lifestyle than that on this side of the border. She missed the sharing that goes on in a society with more collectivist values, but she also recognized flaws in the political systems of both Mexico and the United States, never doubting that, all things considered, she was fortunate to have moved to the United States. In this country, she had been included in an extended family network, birthed children, changed religious denominations, and sent a son to fight in a controversial war. She was proud that her family had clawed its way out of poverty, something she did not think would have happened in Mexico . Viviana’s nostalgia for the values of community interdependence and her refusal to forsake the land or language of Mexico emphasize her Mexican heritage, but her fervent pride in her US citizenship and pleasure in seeing her family established here confirm her north-ofthe -border identity. Anzaldúa’s theory of mestizaje or hybridity was one of the first to describe the fluid process of identity formation for those living wherever cultures meet and clash.1 Other writers have built on the concept , explaining, for example, that Latinos in the United States retain their identification with Mexico or Latin America. Their assimilation 172 chapter eight does not lead to rejection of everything Latino.2 Renato Rosaldo coined the term “cultural citizenship” to express the idea that many Latinos become naturalized citizens but retain a unique sense of who they are—racially, culturally, and linguistically.3 Martin Del Campo, a Mexican-born architect who became a US citizen, explains the dilemma of needing to choose one allegiance over another: “It’s like saying you love only one parent.”4 Mexican Americans live “in the hyphen,”5 as Stavans phrases it, but they are no less grounded in their status as US citizens. Suárez-Orozco and Páez offer the terms binationalism, biculturalism, and cultural bifocality to describe the practice of holding onto familiar cultural practices while acclimating to the new milieu.6 Refusing to be delineated by one set of allegiances, Viviana proclaimed herself a lover of two nations. Having spent nearly fifty years in the United States, Viviana had honed her political consciousness here, developing an awareness of both Mexican and US politics. Contrary to the stereotypical passive, uneducated wife who defers to her husband in all matters political, she showed a strong interest in a number of issues. She may well have formed some of her opinions by listening to her husband— she quoted him on many occasions—but she also watched Spanishlanguage television newscasts and talked with her children. She was aware that the opinions of the electorate and government policies could have a direct effect on her life. Much of her political awareness resulted from the discrimination she and her family had encountered. A collaborative testimonial project established by the Latina Feminist Group concludes that lived experiences are part of what create “resistance to colonialism, imperialism, and racism,” among other forms of oppression.7 Viviana knew firsthand the disrespect often afforded migrant people of color. Her interest in citizenship stemmed partly from the belief that citizens had more recourse against discrimination than noncitizens. Because she considered citizenship so important, Viviana was dismayed that two of her sons, one of whom lived in California, had never applied for their naturalization papers. She and Beatriz shared their concerns with me regarding California’s 1994 passage of Proposition 187, denying undocumented immigrants social services, health care, and public education. Although the proposition was effectively Citizenship and Politics 173 nullified by the courts, the anti-immigrant rhetoric leading up to it created an atmosphere of fear. California senator William Craven had placed all people of Hispanic descent in a “suspect class” by calling for a state regulation requiring all Hispanics “to carry an identification card that would be used to verify legal residence.” This was the same senator who, little more than a year earlier, had stated that “migrant workers were on a lower scale of humanity.”8 Proponents of immigration reform had also announced their agenda to eliminate affirmative action and bilingual education programs and to promote...