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

Chapter 2. Courtship and Marriage, 1926-1930s

30 2 Courtship and Marriage 1926–1930s Antes que te cases, mira lo que haces. Before you marry, take a good look. —Spanish dicho none of viviana’s positive childhood experiences with her father or the tightly knit community gave her the courage to reject a devastating marriage. At sixteen, she was pursued by Jorge, a widower nine years her senior who was known to have beaten his first wife. As she remembered the situation almost sixty years later, she recalled only anger and threats on his part and fear on hers. In the course of our discussions, we mused more than once about what in her husband’s background could have made him so angry, but she found no satisfactory answer. Perhaps the poet César Vallejo provides some insight when he writes of “the poor man’s anger,”1 an anger against the seemingly overwhelming circumstances of poverty. Other negative forces had been at work in Jorge’s life as well, but whatever the causes, the results frustrated any expectations the teenage girl might have had of a romantic courtship and a gentle, caring husband. The concept of aguantar, to stand firm against suffering, hard work, pain, or a tragic fate, figures prominently in Viviana’s life story. According to Earl Shorris, it is the aspect of character “which the older generation of Mejicanos and Mexican-Americans still say is Courtship and Marriage: 1926–1930s 31 most important in their world-view.” He adds, “In the mestizo [of mixed racial ancestry] character of Mexico, the fatalism of the Indians combined comfortably with the Spanish willingness to endure danger and suffering. Thus, aguantar came to mean enduring one’s fate bravely and with a certain style.”2 As early as the sixteenth century, Montaigne wrote, “It is the first lesson the Mexicans give their children . When they come out of their mothers’ wombs, they thus salute them: My child, thou art come into the world to suffer; therefore suffer and hold thy peace.”3 A certain dignity is implicit in the concept . Another Latino writer, Virgilio Elizando, states, “In our Latino realism, we do not go looking for suffering as if it were something desirable, but neither do we deny it or run away from it. We assume it, transcend it, and dare to celebrate life in spite of it.”4 Looking back, Viviana often expressed anger at her partner’s neglect and abuse, but she also conveyed a certain pride at having stayed the course, living up to the societal expectations of a wife and mother. Perhaps the strongest statement she made in our year of discussions came after her description of Jorge’s mistreatment of her and an attempt he made to send her away so that he could invite another woman to live with him. After eight years of marriage, her refusal to leave with her children showed in one sense what Yolanda Nava calls “la fortaleza,” or fortitude, “courage and strength of character in the midst of pain, affliction, and hardship.”5 Not only did Viviana resolve to endure her husband’s temper and infidelities in order to keep the family together and the children fed, but she also determined that he must continue to carry out his own responsibilities . In her world, if one took on a duty, one endured whatever unpleasantness came along with it. Perhaps today in another culture and with more resources, the young Viviana might make different choices, but such were her times and circumstances. It may have been that she had neither the courage nor the know-how to refuse an older, aggressive suitor. Her father had previously acted as her protector, reinforcing the patriarchal concept that males make the important decisions. It is possible, also, that as much as she loved her father, she felt some resentment at his control over her social life. Her narrative gives the impression, however, that sixty years later, she still felt she had not acted of her own free will in entering into marriage with Jorge. Only after bearing four 32 chapter two children and struggling to make life tolerable for them did she begin to find her voice. As I got older, my father didn’t allow me to go anywhere. I was the only girl. He wouldn’t allow me to go out except when he wished. When we would go, like there was a dance, and the...