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Anna isn’t her real name.
I met Anna at my son’s school about ten years ago. Her two sons attended the same school as my son, but her sons were younger. When we met, there had been a problem with the principal at the school, I didn’t know all the details at the time, anyway, there had been a misunderstanding, and Anna didn’t trust me. When it was all straightened out, we ended up becoming friends, and worked on a lot of projects together. I would go to her house, she would come to mine. She was pretty, dark-skinned, living with a man with whom she had two sons, in a small house they rented, and shared with a man who rented their second bedroom. They often rented out their living room couch as well, and Anna did other things to earn money, like collecting cans, selling Avon, and baby-sitting. Her man was the manager at a convenience store in Chula Vista. A woman who worked at the store left her child with Anna to baby-sit while she worked.
Anna was active at the school. She didn’t speak English, but that didn’t stop her. At school, she spoke up at meetings, she ran for positions on committees; like many women I met, she had first become involved in school issues, then gotten into district politics, then community organizing, and from there joined other groups, moved into other things that were happening, through other groups she heard about or was invited to. The more success she had, the more she wanted to do. She wasn’t just tied to her man or her house anymore. She felt she had to do more, for her children’s sake, and for her own sake. She helped organize meetings. She took part in protests. She participated in marches.
I found out about her personal situation one day when we were at her house. We were sitting at her dining table. She had fed me some delicious pozole, and she sat with me, eating and talking. After we ate we sat there and she began talking about her life. She told me she was from a small village, and that she had come here to get a job. She said when she came, she ended up in a house where they kept her with others who had come looking for work. But there was no work. She had ended up selling drugs.
Anna said that she had been staying in the house with various people. One of the men raped her. She had been a virgin, she told the man. She wanted to leave to get away from him. But she couldn’t leave, there was no where she could go. She became pregnant. Eventually they moved to another place; she felt she had no choice but to go with him. She had the baby. And then two years later, she had another child with him.
I had been at her house before. I knew how the man treated her. He was always putting her down. He was always making comments aimed at making her suffer. He treated her like he wanted to see how much she could endure. And she endured it. That day, when she was telling me the story of her life, she broke down and cried in my arms.
She found out that she was pregnant again. Her man insisted she have an abortion, so she did. Then she found out that her man had been having sex with the woman at the store, while she was baby-sitting the woman’s child. The man would leave for days to be with the woman. Anna would tell him not to come back, but the man would beg her and Anna would let him come back.
One year, I came over to her house and the family didn’t have a Christmas tree. I gave her a tree that I had gotten from IKEA when I had done some Christmas shopping there. She set the tree on her porch and decorated it. I came over on Christmas Day with cookies and presents for her and her children, and she sat by the tree, she was upset and biting her nails; her man was with the other woman. Anna told me that the woman had begun calling her, taunting her on the phone. The woman would call and say terrible things to her. Now she was calling Anna’s children and taunting them as well. Anna sat there and cried and said that her man had made her kill her baby just to be with that other woman.
There were constant battles now. Anna’s hair was falling out. She lost weight. Finally, one day, Anna just left. She took her two children. When she called me about a year later, she said her man had had a baby with the woman. When I asked Anna where she was living, she said she couldn’t tell me. We didn’t speak for a long time; she would call but she wouldn’t leave messages and I didn’t have her number. When she called me this last time, she said she was living with another man and had another baby. She said that where she was living was far away and very cold.
I remembered what she had said that day she was crying in my arms. She said, “People think America is great. But America is cruel.”
(Next week: Beatriz)
Anna isn’t her real name.
I met Anna at my son’s school about ten years ago. Her two sons attended the same school as my son, but her sons were younger. When we met, there had been a problem with the principal at the school, I didn’t know all the details at the time, anyway, there had been a misunderstanding, and Anna didn’t trust me. When it was all straightened out, we ended up becoming friends, and worked on a lot of projects together. I would go to her house, she would come to mine. She was pretty, dark-skinned, living with a man with whom she had two sons, in a small house they rented, and shared with a man who rented their second bedroom. They often rented out their living room couch as well, and Anna did other things to earn money, like collecting cans, selling Avon, and baby-sitting. Her man was the manager at a convenience store in Chula Vista. A woman who worked at the store left her child with Anna to baby-sit while she worked.
Anna was active at the school. She didn’t speak English, but that didn’t stop her. At school, she spoke up at meetings, she ran for positions on committees; like many women I met, she had first become involved in school issues, then gotten into district politics, then community organizing, and from there joined other groups, moved into other things that were happening, through other groups she heard about or was invited to. The more success she had, the more she wanted to do. She wasn’t just tied to her man or her house anymore. She felt she had to do more, for her children’s sake, and for her own sake. She helped organize meetings. She took part in protests. She participated in marches.
I found out about her personal situation one day when we were at her house. We were sitting at her dining table. She had fed me some delicious pozole, and she sat with me, eating and talking. After we ate we sat there and she began talking about her life. She told me she was from a small village, and that she had come here to get a job. She said when she came, she ended up in a house where they kept her with others who had come looking for work. But there was no work. She had ended up selling drugs.
Anna said that she had been staying in the house with various people. One of the men raped her. She had been a virgin, she told the man. She wanted to leave to get away from him. But she couldn’t leave, there was no where she could go. She became pregnant. Eventually they moved to another place; she felt she had no choice but to go with him. She had the baby. And then two years later, she had another child with him.
I had been at her house before. I knew how the man treated her. He was always putting her down. He was always making comments aimed at making her suffer. He treated her like he wanted to see how much she could endure. And she endured it. That day, when she was telling me the story of her life, she broke down and cried in my arms.
She found out that she was pregnant again. Her man insisted she have an abortion, so she did. Then she found out that her man had been having sex with the woman at the store, while she was baby-sitting the woman’s child. The man would leave for days to be with the woman. Anna would tell him not to come back, but the man would beg her and Anna would let him come back.
One year, I came over to her house and the family didn’t have a Christmas tree. I gave her a tree that I had gotten from IKEA when I had done some Christmas shopping there. She set the tree on her porch and decorated it. I came over on Christmas Day with cookies and presents for her and her children, and she sat by the tree, she was upset and biting her nails; her man was with the other woman. Anna told me that the woman had begun calling her, taunting her on the phone. The woman would call and say terrible things to her. Now she was calling Anna’s children and taunting them as well. Anna sat there and cried and said that her man had made her kill her baby just to be with that other woman.
There were constant battles now. Anna’s hair was falling out. She lost weight. Finally, one day, Anna just left. She took her two children. When she called me about a year later, she said her man had had a baby with the woman. When I asked Anna where she was living, she said she couldn’t tell me. We didn’t speak for a long time; she would call but she wouldn’t leave messages and I didn’t have her number. When she called me this last time, she said she was living with another man and had another baby. She said that where she was living was far away and very cold.
I remembered what she had said that day she was crying in my arms. She said, “People think America is great. But America is cruel.”
(Next week: Beatriz)