I remember sitting on my abuelita’s (grandmother) lap when I was very young and listening to her stories while she knitted. I remember that she spent a lot of time with me sharing stories of her cultural upbringing in Chile and the family traditions she learned as a child. My grandmother explained to me how her culture and beliefs differed from those of the United States. I realize now that what my abuelita was doing was trying to keep her culture alive in our home and to teach me how to apply it to my life. I am half Chilean and half African-American, grew up in a single parent home, was angry and rebellious as a teenager, and later I turned my life around. Esta es mi experiencia.
My father, a black man from Ohio, died five days before I was born. This single incident affected my life and determined my destiny even before I came into this world. Because of my circumstances, I knew that my future in regards to higher education was more of a luxury than a natural happening. My family was my mother and my abuelita. We did not have much, but I remember we were rich with love. My abuelita made sure I always had the essentials and she assured that the Spanish language was always spoken and our Chilean culture preserved. I am half Chilean because of my mother, but through my abuelita I inherited a whole lot more of Chile, her culture and language. It seemed like my abuelita in reality never left Chile and to me it felt like I was practically born there. It is humorous that, even though I have never been to Chile, I created an image of Chile in my mind, both physically and culturally.
As a kid, I enjoyed playing the interpreter in school and the English teacher at home. What I loved the most was being able to assist kids who had just recently moved from other Latin American countries, helping them learn to get around the neighborhood and to speak English. During my young years my mother had to work long hours in order to provide for the household. Throughout that time it was abuelita who played the role of a mother with her teachings and caring. The little time shared with my mother was spent on her reflections on her upbringing and stories inspired by photo albums from her teenage years in Arica and Antofagasta in northern Chile.
Things changed when I entered adolescence. My abuelita no longer met my need for answers and advice on how to deal with my daily struggles. I started to feel the stress about having two racial/ethnic backgrounds. I felt as if I did not fit into either race or ethnicity and became very withdrawn from my loved ones. At that point, I felt that the only connection I shared with my family was the Spanish language and as a result I turned to my peers for company and advice. The situation and the trials I faced seemed to be very unique and overwhelming. I had no understanding about who I was or who I wanted to become. Sadly, my anger towards the world around me led me to the wrong outlets to help me find the way out. Right outside of the beautiful city of San Diego, I started to deal with the peer pressure of joining a gang, getting high, and getting involved with the wrong crowd. Too much time on my hands and not enough guidance proved to lead to trouble in my case. While I tried hard to hang on to any little piece of what reminded me of myself, it seemed as if I was falling apart quickly. I got suspended and transferred to my third high school and I knew that I was no longer going to be a candidate for necessary scholarships. At that point in time, it seemed that not even the Spanish prayers that my abuelita had taught me could soothe the confusion and feelings of abandonment.
My Grandmother Lula, my father’s mother, tried to convince me that it was a mistake to leave high school in the 11th grade even though I had sufficient credits, but I saw it as another obstacle holding me back from my dreams. I never felt really connected to my father’s side of the family and her advice created a deep feeling of resentment within me instead. I withdrew even more from any family support or protection and became totally disconnected from those who did not understand my inner struggles of identity. My hopes of becoming a dancer and receiving a scholarship to the Alvin Alley School of Performing Arts in New York faded very fast. With my dancing scholarship gone, the only way I knew how to deal with my shortcomings and fallacies was by giving up on myself and trying to escape from my regrets by drinking alcohol. My girlfriends at the time encouraged my bad habits and had very little guidance themselves. None of us had much to look forward to and did not have any assistance to help us achieve a higher education, even though we were all intelligent students with lots of potential.
My peers and I placed too much emphasis on smaller issues that we felt we had more control over, like our street gang, our street credentials and our reputation in the neighborhood. Just belonging was enough identity to help us cope with the bigger issues in our lives. Most of us were mixed girls, which carried a stigma in our neighborhoods. We received hate mail, had rocks and bottles thrown at our cars, and were constantly threatened by local girl gangs and their big brothers. Because my father was black and my mother was from Chile, my mixed heritage made things very complicated for me. My neighborhood had already formed gangs that were all one ethnicity — either you were in an all black gang or all Latino gang. I was both black and Latina and I had friends in both gangs. Unfortunately, the threats from rival gangs intensified and I spent more and more time away from school. Often my friends and I had to find ways to defend ourselves, because we did not look or act like the girls in the other gangs. My life was getting out of control fast. I really despised the decisions I was making through this time and wished I would have used my school knowledge to get a ticket out of my difficult circumstances. My father’s absence really impacted my adolescence. I had to learn about men and my African-American heritage alone through trial and error, and regrettably, my interest for my father’s culture appeared artificial to other people when I tried to fit in.
Living in southern California may appear like a dream for some; but having identity issues and not being able to connect with my inner self was not a dream for me. I could not face the people I offended during my identity crisis. At 17, I was craving the chance to leave, spread my wings and learn more about myself. The opportunity came through Deborah, my departed father’s favorite cousin. She offered me the opportunity to live with her in Ohio — at the same time she was offering me the opportunity to finally put my resentment towards my father’s side of the family to rest and to finally dive into my African-American heritage and become one with myself. When I arrived in Ohio, I was able to really experience what it was like to be embraced by the other part of me. My aunt shared with me how much she cared for my father and how tragic it was when he passed away. She shared her story on how they both planned to go to Ohio State and how my father’s decision to volunteer over the summer as a fireman in San Diego, where he met my mother, was the only thing that got in the way.
I was 20 years old when I found myself at Ohio State. I was also ready to begin a new chapter in my life, leaving the negativity behind but always carrying my abuelita’s culture and love for the Spanish language with me. As I matured and time passed, life began to unfold in a good way. One major factor that I believe has allowed me to stay above water and out of trouble has been my relationship with my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, who helped me find myself here in Columbus, Ohio.
As a result, I feel that having a mixed heritage is no longer something bad or complicated, but has become a positive blessing — I think that it has also related to my greater understanding of the world around me and my role within it. The pride and honor that my abuelita helped to build in me have allowed me to continue to pursue my Spanish interpreting career. I have a bright future ahead of me; gracias a Dios and my family who has helped me realize my full potential and supported my career choices. The very same family members, to whom I showed very little appreciation or considered obstacles, are the ones who have spent their time and money helping me study, practice, and achieve my goals.
Getting married and having children without understanding the person I really am, was just plain loco. Being a young mother has been difficult on many levels. Normally, college students around my age do not have many major worries or responsibilities. My mortgage, my two children just starting elementary school, and my husband are major commitments outside school. I know I am not the only one, but I am not the majority either. It has been beyond hard and very disheartening when my grades did not meet my expectations due to the realities of my life. Disheartening as it might be, I have not let this stop me. I completed my degree in Psychology and am currently researching which graduate school to attend. As a self-employed Spanish interpreter in a law firm, I am collaborating with people that I admire. The dreams I once had have become so much brighter and even more extensive. Recently, I worked with a local agency as its cultural broker aiding with communication through language barriers in the legal realm. I have been able to generate a partnership between them and law firms within the city of Columbus to expand the reach of their services. Honoring my heritage, I would like to become even more active in the Latino community by networking resources and being a cultural bridge.
Overall, mi experiencia has all been worth it. Why, you ask? Because, after all the bad decisions and horrible mistakes I have made, my life has turned out just fine. I am still able to count my blessings and be grateful for having the opportunity I never thought possible. Yet as I get ready for a new milestone, I am so thankful for my past and my present. As the memory of the mistakes I made start fading, I am ready to face the future with a positive attitude. Thanks to my abuelita, my Spanish language has helped me pave the way not only through the winding paths but all the way up towards what appears to be a bright silver skyline.
Note: Brandi submitted her story in Winter 2007 and graduated in Spring 2007.
