All Parts From Mexico, Assembled in the U.S.A.

by Manuela Rodriguez

For several years now, I have assigned Natalie Goldberg’s manual, Writing down the Bones in my class. The students fill up their ntoebooks, hopefully in the spirit of Jack Kerouac’s maxim, “Write in recollection and amazement for yourself.” In that spirit, I think, Manuela Rodriguez wrote the following in Social Justice class, May 2007 and I am happy to share it with you here.

I am…
From the mountains of Chihuahua, Mexico, which I never could reach.
From a faded past that I long to remember for the bittersweet memories that must exist
I am from the long swinging trees in the summertime whose thousands of leaves fell on the earth when I climbed up to see the world.
I am from the wrinkles on my grandmother’s hands that aged as I grew in her arms each day.
I am from my mother’s pain, from her hard-working days to provide food and shelter for us to live
I am from my father’s absence, for he was never there to hear me cry, to see me smile, to give me a hug when I felt the need for someone to be with us.
I am from Tamales in December, from the warmth of our humble home in Mexico,
The small home that sat on 65th street, surrounded by numerous bright red rosebushes.
From the smell of freshly baked tortillas to the early sounds of the roosters wake up shouts, this home is where I longed to stay.

That, however, was not the way my destiny intended it to be.
My path Diverged.

I traveled to the country where I was born, my mom and I alone, we started a new beginning in Dallas, Texas. I owe so much to her, my mami, the strong and faithful woman who always wanted the best for me, even if that meant leaving the home and family I always knew. She has made so many sacrifices in her life for her children. I owe so much to her.
At seven years old, I had to become accustomed to a new language, to new traditions, and to a new world. A world I hoped to belong to, but to never forget my roots.
I am from the rosary beads that I began to pray when I felt anguish and despair.
My Catholic faith is what kept me going, I prayed and prayed for a better future, for my mom to not feel sadness any longer.
I am a Mexican American woman with love to share with others, with an open heart, who is willing to let others in. I am one, but with two cultures engraved in me. I am Mexican. I am an American. I have a desire to teach others about my Latin American heritage.
I am from these moments.
From these two cultures.
With all parts from Mexico, assembled in the U.S.A.
This is who I am.