Un Dia

The cold morning wind blew across my rosy cheeks with a sting, jolting me awake as
soon as I stepped out of the car. It was one of those cold mornings, and I was dressed in navy
uniform pants and a white polo, with my signature light-up sneakers. Classically, Mamá was
scolding me for forgetting my jacket this morning, as she handed me the one she always has in
the car, kissing me goodbye. I walked towards the school gates with my lunchbox clutched in my
hand, excitement beating through my heart; I loved school.

I went to Bachrodt, a dual-immersion charter school on the outskirts of downtown San
Jose, right next to the airport. I had friends of many races who all spoke Spanish with me; who
learned math, history, science, and reading solely in Spanish. Even the teachers convinced us that
they only spoke Spanish, but eventually, we all saw through that (it was like learning about Santa
Claus for the first time). Bachrodt not only taught us and strengthened our Spanish at an early
age, but integrated Latinx history into our education. We learned about El Movimiento, the
United Farm Workers Association, Frida Khalo, and Diego Rivera, and most importantly, how
Cinco de Mayo is not Mexican Independence Day.

One of my most influential teachers, recognizing me as an avid reader, gifted me a copy of
Cajas de Cartón by Francisco Jiménez. The novel tells the story of the author, who immigrated
with his family from Jalisco to California, constantly moving from city to city, working in the
fields to survive, and picking different produce with the season changes. I had never before asked
my family about their history, their immigration story, and their struggles in immigrating to
America. After reading the book, I asked my mother about her story and her mother’s story.
Mamá told me a story similar to Jimenez’s; where my grandmother (maiden name Jimenez) and
her children had immigrated from el rancho in Cañadas de Obregón, Jalisco to Stockton,
California. They did not have to move around as much, but my aunts and uncles were sent to
work in the fields to make ends meet, while my grandfather worked in the canned food factory.
Every day, after school ended, a group of us walked to after-school care right next door.
On our way, we always passed by el frutero, his cart full of seasonal fruits and bags of Hot
Cheetos for sale. He stood on the corner of the street, where the houses met the school gate, with
his rainbow umbrella shining a colorful display on the gray concrete. Some of us greeted him,
but never anything more than that.

By the time Mamá came back to pick me up, I had already finished all my schoolwork,
and could not wait to get home to eat. Taking my shoes off at the door, I could already smell the
frijoles y arroz; perfectly salted beans and tomato-soaked rice. My sister and I never got tired of
them. Mamá played Selena in the background while she made the enchiladas. The music cycled
through Reik, Los Bukis, Juanes, and Alejandro Fernandes (her favorite, whom I’m named
after). Tio Tony used to work at a radio station, where he met and interviewed many famous
Spanish artists, notably Selena. Selena was inspirational not only for her music, but for the
barriers she broke; she was inspirational to a girl like me, and many other young girls. We
watched Selena together as a family, and I knew the words to Amor Prohibido from the moment I
could sing.

After 2013, my household became a female-only household. I was raised by two
incredibly strong women and they each believed in breaking barriers. Neither of them let
patriarchal ideals restrict them and they often fought against the machismo presented by the male
figures around them. Mamá became the father and the mother. Many people told her she needed
to find a new husband because her daughters needed a father figure. Many people told her that
the only way she could have gotten her job as a Mexican woman was through affirmative action.
Many people told her what she should do, but she never let them control her life. Not only did
familia become extremely important, but el femenismo became a model to live by. Real Women
Have Curves was a film we watched as a family, and I grew up with Mamá telling me to love my
curves despite what may be portrayed otherwise in the media. “I’ve got chisme from the
market!” and “Pancha” became common sayings in our household, quoted from the film.
Ultimately, this film, Selena Quintanilla, and the strong female figures around me inspired me to
embrace my femininity and strengthen my feminist ideals.

As I sat on the couch, watching the television late into the night, Mamá would eventually
usher me to go to bed. I would brush my teeth, head into my room, and crawl into bed. I would
lay there thinking about the events of the day, and the future ahead of me. And now, I can look
back with certainty and tell young Alexandra, that everything will work out. I know she would be
proud of how far we made it.

Reflection

This memoir portrays the common themes I found in my daily life and culture as I grew
up, all condensed into one day. It discusses my heritage and the tribulations my family faced to
provide me with better opportunities by immigrating to the United States. This is in reference to
and in correlation with the book, “Cajas de Carton” by Francisco Jimenez, that I had been gifted
by an influential teacher. I incorporated this book because it tells an immigration story similar to
that of my own family. “But when I spoke to Arthur in Spanish and Miss Scalapino heard me,
she said ‘NO!’ … ‘English, English,’ she repeated,” (chapter 3). This quote resonated with me as
it reminded me of when my mother would tell me that it was frowned upon to speak Spanish in
public when she was growing up. Therefore, she forced herself to speak English, even around my
grandma, who only spoke Spanish, refusing to learn English. In comparison, I was raised
speaking Spanish, and the contrast between my upbringing and my mother’s shows the persistent
racism and marginalization of Latin@s in the sixties, seventies, and eighties.
There is a strong frutero culture in San Jose, especially downtown, where I attended
elementary school. Reading Fruteros by Rocío Rosales reminded me of the frutero outside of the
school gates that I saw every single day. “During each of my visits, I would learn something new
and interesting about Jesus and his job,” (page 3). This selection from the reading made me
realize that out of my many years of education, I had only exchanged greetings with the frutero,
and knew nothing else of him. I had not realized the deep subculture and community holding up
the frutero business.

I also made sure to include the influential 1997 film Selena and the 2002 film Real
Women Have Curves. I watched both of these movies numerous times growing up and became
inspired by these women who embraced their families and culture and believed in themselves,
despite racial and gendered barriers and stereotypes. “We gotta be more Mexican than the
Mexicans and more American than the Americans, both at the same time! It’s exhausting!” said
by Selena’s father in the film. I found this quote accurately represents the struggle of being
Mexican-American in a country that often seems to prevent Latin@s from having the
opportunity to be successful while having heritage from a country that no longer considers you
one of their own. “Es un bra!” once again said by the father, represents the male gaze in
comparison to female bodily autonomy. Selena chose to dress how she wanted despite the
controversy that may have come with it because she wanted to embrace her femininity and do
with her body as she pleases. This inspires me to similarly embrace my feminine qualities, not be
afraid to be myself despite what others think, and that I have autonomy over my own body and
choices as a woman. In Real Women Have Curves, Estela says to Ana, “Pretty dresses aren’t just
for skinny girls.” This quote also evoked a desire for me to break barriers when it comes to body
and beauty, especially from how it is marketed and portrayed in the media. This is especially
important to me as a Latina, who has recognized a lack of representation for Latin@’s, different
body sizes, and beauty standards growing up.

Overall, I wanted to convey the struggles of growing up and as a Latina, but more
importantly, to identify where I have persevered and found importance in my culture and my
femininity.

Citations
Jiménez, Francisco. Cajas de Cartón: Relatos de La Vida Peregrina de Un Niño
Campesino. Houghton Mifflin Company, 2000.
Klevin, Sldane. Real Women Have Curves. Distrimax.
Nava, Gregory, director. Selena. HBO, Newmarket Films, 1997.
Rosales, Rocío. Fruteros Street Vending, Illegality, and Ethnic Community in Los
Angeles. University of California Press, 2020.