I can't even...

I recently got married to the best man in the world. He happens to be American and Jewish, he is also a scientist who studies the ocean and climate change. I am Mexican, and proud to be one, but I moved here not even 6 months ago, because, well, love requires sacrifice and even though it has been hard for me, I did this because Dave (that’s his name) is  worth it, but I am not gonna lie, these past two days have been really hard on us, because we cannot believe what just happened. 

I grew up in a city in northern Mexico, and I am an educated middle class female. I have had privileges that other people don’t, and I also have been considered less than because I am brown and overweight. I am no stranger to economic duress, or to the violence that affects my country. My family has lost everything, except each other. And yet, moving to a country that prides itself in being racist and misogynist is so strange and devastating. 

I come from a family that was in America way back. You know, they didn’t cross the border, the border crossed them. My great grandma on my mom’s side was an American. At age 10, I saw her daughter, my grandma, leave my hometown so she could come to the US to work. My father’s father was an American citizen, but gave up his rights to be in Mexico with my grandmother. My father gave up his rights too because he didn’t want to have anything to do with this country. He always told me: “They are very racist. They don’t like us.” I always thought he was overreacting, but on Tuesday millions of Americans proved him right. They voted for the racist and misogynist option. They voted for the man who minorities feared the most. 

There are people, mostly white males or people who aren’t here, that don’t understand what I am feeling, what Dave is feeling, they can’t manage to get out of their bubble and see what millions of honest and hardworking people fear. I am scared to go out of my apartment because I don’t know what crazy person I’m gonna find outside, and I live in a very liberal pro immigrant environment, where the majority rejects Trump; and yet I am scared. 

I read comments of people who think Trump is as bad as it gets, but they say that it’s ok, because now this place can burn the power structures that are oppressing people, now we change the system. I guess that would be a good thing, except that millions of people who belong to minorities will suffer emotional, psychological and physical abuse (it is already happening), we might even lose people we love in horrible ways, but Trump and his supporters don’t seem to care. I get that Hillary wasn’t the favorite candidate (I can’t vote here, but I do believe Bernie was by far the best option), but when Trump won, it gave racists, bigots and misogynists a voice, a voice that today, not even 2 days after his victory (and he is not yet president), is being heard by black people, hispanic, muslims, jews, women. 

I have been crying and frustrated over this so much. I am scared to take a road trip with Dave on Thanksgiving because we will be crossing “Trump states”. I don’t even wanna stop to get food if it is not in a big city. I am scared for his life, and I am scared for mine. 

I listen here and there that we should not hate people who voted for this guy, or that we shouldn’t blame it on the third-party voters, I am sorry, but I am pissed as hell, and I get to blame it on them. I also get to blame it on the Democrats who ignored what people really wanted. On Republicans that did nothing to stop Trump, they just stood there and watched, despite having every single opportunity to remove his candidacy. I put this on Obama, a president whom I like a lot, but who endorsed the wrong person, just like his party. 

I am in disbelief. I left Mexico with the hope of living a happy and safe life here, in the self-proclaimed “greatest country in the world”. And you know what? The worst part isn’t even here yet. Wake me up when Trump is gone. 

Mi abuela, la gringa

Mi abuela vino a EE UU hace 21 años. Yo tenía 10, y cuando se fue, fue la primera vez que sentí cómo se me partía el corazón porque ya no iba a poder ir a su casa a comer mantecadas o Doraditas Tía Rosa. No me iba a llevar al mercado con ella, ni me despertaría con un vaso de leche con chocolate por las mañanas. 

Mi abuela Beatriz es mi segunda madre, me cuidó prácticamente desde que nací porque mi mamá tuvo que trabajar siempre. De ella, es de quien mi madre, y eventualmente yo, obtuvimos nuestra ética y responsabilidad para trabajar, tan es así que a sus 77 años dejó de trabajar, y sólo porque la despidieron porque ageism. 

Es ciudadana estadounidense porque su madre, mi bisabuela, era de esos mexicanos que estaban en Texas desde hace años cuando cambiaron las fronteras [Citando a muchos mexicanos en su situación, “We didn’t cross the border, the border crossed us”]. Gringa, al fin y al cabo, “arregló sus papeles” para que sus hijos también pudieran hacerlo, pero no hubo avance. Uno de mis tíos se fue con su visa de turista, y un año después lo deportaron. El resto sigue esperando a que revisen sus papeles, y hace ya 20 años de eso.

Su esposo Silvestre se había ido a San Antonio muchos años antes a trabajar de ilegal (Él no tuvo padres texanos). Solía cantar en un trío, y se casó con una gringa para arreglar papeles. Por supuesto que tiempo después dejó de enviar dinero a su familia en Monterrey y dejó a mi abuela y a sus 8 hijos. Regresó en pocas ocasiones a la ciudad, una de ellas fue para morir. Falleció de cirrosis, porque no era suficiente que fuera un mal padre, también tenía que ser alcohólico. 

A mi abuela le han pasado mil cosas en la vida, pero hoy, después de varias elecciones en EE UU, se paró en la fila, con todo y que apenas puede caminar, y votó por otra mujer para que fuera su presidenta. No es cosa menor. Para mí, y para muchas mujeres de mi generación (que no todas, y por algo nos sigue haciendo falta más feminismo) es algo dado que las mujeres tenemos al menos la posibilidad de ser líderes de un país —bueno, la verdad es que yo no porque no me interesa, yo sólo quiero ser reina de los gatos—, pero hoy, hablando con ella por teléfono me di cuenta del orgullo que sentía en su voz, y me enterneció, porque aunque yo no soy partidaria de Hillary —pero la prefiero sobre Trump—, estoy contenta por mi abuela, su elección, y lo que esto representa para muchas mujeres como ella, y también como yo.