My Family

My Family

I grew up with the traditional Latino family. I had a dad, a mom, an older sister a younger brother and a younger sister. We grew up in Manhattan, a borough of New York City and lived in an apartment.

My Dad was a hardworking man. He was the superintendent of the building we lived in and my mom was a stay at home mom. My dad loved being with us. He loved having his children around him, especially when he was relaxing while watching TV. He would make up silly challenges for us like give us a dime for every grey have we pulled from his head. He loved for us to sit around the TV with him and have snacks together. We were never in his way and he was never too tired for us. My mom was not as playful. She was actually very demanding and always kept us busy. Come to think of it, she rarely joined us in the fun and games at home. My mother was strict and expected us to do well in school but she never spoke about college. They were raised in Puerto Rico in the typical village style where the boys were encouraged to be hard workers and good providers. Their educational expectation was 12th grade for males. There was definitely a double standard because the females were taught to be mothers and wives. My mom only has a 5th grade education. I really don't think that any of my mother's sisters actually achieved the twelfth grade; at least not during their adolescent years. I know that one of them did get her GED and became a teaching assistant, but that well into her adult years. My parents left the island and set their roots in NYC in their teen years. I believe that the language barrier further stymied them, limiting their confidence and ability to dream big. All I know is that we were never encouraged to dream big either. College was never, ever mentioned in our home. In our home my sisters and I were taught how to do the laundry, shop for groceries and do dishes from the time we were in first grade. My brother was never tasked with housework.

Regardless of the chores we had a very happy home. Chores were the norm for us and fell right in with our normal lives. We always had dinner together at the kitchen table. We would talk about how our day went and share stories. After dinner the girls would clean the kitchen while my brother and dad retreated to the living room and watch TV. Once the kitchen was done we would join my dad and brother in the living room until it was time for bed. Our weekends were very nice. My parents would take us to central park; we would visit the zoo or go shopping. During the summer months they would take us to the beach, the pool at John Jay College and Coney Island. We were very close and very happy. There was very little discipline needed during those years. We really lived in harmony during the first twelve years of my life; we had a typical family. We also had lots of family gatherings which included grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. All of our gatherings were with my maternal family; my paternal family lived in Puerto Rico and we really never got to know them well. I believe we only seen them once on a vacation to the island. My maternal family got together for all of the holidays, outings to the beach and the occasional summer picnics. At the gatherings the adults congregated and reminisced of their young adult years and who got married first and which family members had children around the same time. The teenage cousins gathered together and the smaller children played. It was the best time of my young life. As a child remember thinking that it would always be this way; that we would be doing this with our children, and our children's children. Thinking back it gatherings with the extended family were somewhat segregated. The children were never allowed to sit in with the adults and none of the children were very close to the grandparents. We never really bonded with our grandmother; she was actually kind of mean. I know I was never fond of her. One a summer when I was about 5 years old, my older sister and I were sent visit to her in PR and she had beaten me with a belt for wetting the bed. She lived in an old house where they had outhouses. Having been born and raised in NY I had never seen an outhouse. We had arrived to PR late in the evening and had gone to bed shortly after our arrival to her home. In the middle of the night I had to use the bathroom but couldn't find it. I didn't dare wake anyone up and ended up wetting the bed. She beat me with a belt. That was the only time I had been struck with a belt. Upon my arrival back home, I told my parents about the beating and they never allowed her to be alone with us again.

By my teen years life had really changed. My parents were no longer together and nothing was ever the same. After the separation, my mom was very angry at my dad so we didn't have as much contact with him although he continued to provide for us and my mom was able to continue to be a stay at home mom. We were no longer visiting with our extended families nor did we have close ties with our aunts, uncles and cousins. Holidays were not