I remember the way my father would scream at my mother.
His voice would boom through the two bedroom house
and echo to the outside where my siblings and I worked.
There were days when he’d be too drunk
to remember my mother’s name
or too mad to even be home.
Not only that,
he’d bring a woman home all the time.
We were his workers,
his children
only there to bring him food.
But my mother never left him
because she was too scared
on how’d he’d react
and we were too poor to live on our own.
There were days in which he’d go into town
and spend our money on drinks
that we’d be splitting two eggs for eight people at home.
Not only was our life miserable,
but there was also a civil war going on outside our house.
The soldiers would raid our house looking for food and shelter.
They’d leave our house in a mess.
Sometimes the guerrillas would come in as well
seeking for the same things.
Admits all of this,
our lives continued.
I fell in love with my brother’s brother-in-law,
who I became an aunt to a beautiful girl,
and my older siblings created families.
Throughout my childhood and teenage years,
I held onto my faith
and would go to church as often as possible,
but the war made it hard.
Six out of seven of us
never got a proper education,
I only went to school until the sixth grade.
There were days in which we’d just cry of hunger
or be frightened by the gunshots.
My older sister left to the United States at age 16
when she realized that we had nothing left.
I remember how broken I was at age 13 to see her go.
We’d heard about the great opportunities in the U.S.
but never considered it as an escape.
My two younger sisters and brothers
didn’t live their adolescent years in the war
but they did live in poverty.
All our efforts went in for our youngest brother to get an education
- he’s now a professor in Brazil.
But one day,
when there was no food left
and the dresses I made weren’t being sold,
I realized that I could die that week.
There was no money,
no food,
and much less any sign of my father.
I was barely 21 years old
and my youngest sister 16
when we decided to follow our older sister to the United States.
Crossing the Salvadoran border to Guatemala was easy
but once we reached Mexico,
the real challenge came.
We snuck around cities,
hopped on trains,
we sometimes just slept on the streets.
In the desert,
my sandals snapped
and I felt like there was no way of continuing.
A man, who was with my sister and me,
helped me up
and urged me to continue
because there was a bright future ahead of us.
The way to the Rio Grande was one of the hardest things I’d done,
and once we’d made it into Texas,
we felt freedom.
Making my way to the Houston area
where my sister lived.
She got us a job
and helped us get settled.
But it was difficult.
We didn’t have a visa,
we didn’t speak English,
and we definitely
did not have a car to get to places.
My younger sister and I were stumped.
We didn’t know what to do.
I remember hearing her recite the burger menu on the top bunk
as we tried to sleep in the trailer we were living in.
During the few months we lived there,
my childhood crush reached out to me.
He came to the United States three years before me.
We talked a lot
and he wanted to be my boyfriend.
So my sister and I decided to move to Massachusetts,
where he lived,
and we'd live with our cousin.
There was public transportation,
a huge Latino community,
and a place for me to stay in.
Although the first apartment was hard to live in,
I always had hope
that I’d be able to prosper in this new place.
But my immigration status
was always an issue.
After ten months of dating,
we got married.
I moved in with him and a few months later
I got pregnant.
We had been told
that I couldn’t have kids because of my weak immune system.
I suffered from arthritis and skin problems,
that I was too weak to have kids.
We were the happiest.
Two months before our daughter was born,
we received a legal immigration status,
TPS
which stands for
Temporary Protected Status.
We finally got better jobs
and were able to get our licenses in a few months,
life was finally looking brighter for us.
Five years later,
we had three daughters
and bought our first house after being married for 7 years.
Life was amazing for us,
we had stable jobs,
a car,
a house,
and a family.
My sister had her own family as well
and got a condominium
not far from where we lived.
My parents became U.S citizens
and moved into my house.
My father had stopped the drinking
and came to his senses
that what he’s done to us was not right.
A few years later,
we had our fourth daughter.
After twenty years of living in the United States,
the government of the U.S
decided to take away our happiness.
So many families were told
that the parents would be sent back to El Salvador.
Our daughters looked distraught
and we realized we had to keep our family together.
Happiness and life
had finally come for me
and now
it was being taken away.
I knew I had to fight.
We have done rallies,
and protests,
and public speaking for our families.
Our family won’t stop fighting until justice is brought.
And that’s where I am today,
fighting
for my family
to stay together.