I Am Not Your Perfect Mexican Daughter

“I know it’s wrong to hate your parents, especially when your sister is dead, but I can’t help it, so I keep it to myself, and the resentment grows through me like weeds. I thought deaths were supposed to bring people together, but I guess that’s just what happens on TV.” 

The grief of losing Olga has taken its toll on everyone in the Reyes household, and unfortunately, it has resulted in growing resentment. Julia and her parents have no real coping mechanisms in place for them to process this trauma, leading to more arguments and misunderstandings. Julia later identifies Olga’s death as a major trigger for her worsening anxiety and depression.

“You know, Julia, you’re always causing trouble, creating problems for your family. Now that she’s dead, all of a sudden you want to know everything about her? You hardly even spoke to her. Why didn’t you ask her anything when she was alive? Maybe you wouldn’t have to be here, asking me questions about her love life.” 

Angie, Olga’s best friend, is the only person who knows about Olga’s secrets at the time of her death. Knowing how much more pain they would cause Olga’s family, she keeps them to herself, even when Julia presses her for information. She is also grieving the loss of her friend, and she’s deflecting through accusations against Julia. She accidentally mentions Olga’s love life, which is enough to suggest to Julia that there is indeed something more to Olga’s hidden belongings.

“Sometimes it’s like I’m eating to drown something yowling inside me, even when I’m not really that hungry.” 

At her cousin’s birthday party, Julia stuffs herself with food. Julia thinks about food regularly, and her hunger symbolizes several things throughout the novel, as discussed in the Symbols section of the guide. Here, she describes eating as a way to drown out her “yowling” depression that she cannot yet identify. 

“She doesn’t say much whenever I tell her about school […] It’s strange not being able to talk to your parents about something so important.” 

Julia is intelligent, and especially excels at writing, and it pains her to not be able to convey the significance of this to Amá and Apa. They both stopped attending school at an early age to work and support their families, making it hard for them to relate to Julia when she tries to tell them about school. As a critical part of an American’s childhood, school becomes another indicator of the cultural divide between Julia and her parents.

“I wonder what it’s like to clean houses all day and then come home and keep cleaning. I hate seeing her this way because it makes me feel so guilty—guilty for existing, guilty that she has to work like that for us.” 

Julia does occasionally feel compassion towards Amá, and guiltily acknowledges how hard her parents work on behalf of the family. Though she does not outright address the privilege she has compared to her parents’ childhoods, she slowly comes to understand that part of the disconnect between her, Amá, and Apa. 

“According to tradition, I’m a woman now. I’m available to men. I can wear makeup and high heels. I can dance! But if this is what it means to be a woman, maybe I don’t want to be one.” 

Julia reluctantly participates in her farce of a quinceañera for the sake of pleasing her parents. She sarcastically lists all the things her newly bestowed womanhood “allows” her to do, and she is not interested in upholding these gendered, cultural norms. Her contrarian attitude towards Mexican traditions often results in criticism from the rest of her family, but she is unwilling to compromise on her values.

“‘You know, Julia, maybe if you knew how to behave yourself, to keep your mouth shut, your sister would still be alive. Have you ever thought about that?’ She finally says it. She says what her big, sad eyes were telling me all along.” 

In a moment of frustration and anger, Amá finally blames Julia for Olga’s death—something Julia has been suspecting since the day Olga died. This kind of emotional abuse highlights just how large the rift between Julia and Amá is and is certainly a contributing factor to Julia’s anxiety and depression. Amá does apologize for this statement, but only after they begin to actively mend their relationship.

“I hate the cliché that you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, because covers say so much about what’s inside.”

At a bookstore, Julia contemplates the importance of presentation and what someone’s “cover” reveals about who they are. This statement complicates her character, given that she resents her family for how much they judge and criticize her. Over the course of the novel, Julia learns just how much her family members can hide, even though she is confident in her judgments of them based on their “covers.”

“Happiness is a dandelion wisp floating through the air that I can’t catch. No matter how hard I try, no matter how fast I run, I just can’t reach it. Even when I think I grasp it, I open my hand and it’s empty.” 

This is one of many moments where Julia provides insight into her unstable mental health. At no point does she identify it as depression because she lacks a support system at home, preventing her from ever addressing it. The frequency with which these thoughts occur increases dramatically after Amá finds the hidden belongings in Julia’s room, indicating her downward spiral.

“It’s not that I’m ashamed of where I’m from, but we have such different lives. How do you explain to someone that you’re poor?” 

A frequent source of tension and anxiety in Julia’s relationship with Connor is their class disparity. She never addresses it out loud, but always notices when his words or actions indicate that money is not a concern for him. When he asks to come over, she makes up an excuse and avoids the topic altogether, effectively hiding a part of her life from him. 

“I know I should go back home, but I can’t seem to move. I can’t keep going like this anymore. What is the point of living if I can’t ever get what I want?” 

Julia’s depression and anxiety have come to a head, and her feelings of hopelessness have reached their peak. The entrapment of poverty mixed with her family’s seemingly unattainable expectations have left her feeling like her life is no longer her own, leading to her attempted suicide. 

“It’s cold and sunny when I walk outside. The wind feels nice on my face. After being stuck inside the stuffy hospital all day, it seems beautiful, even the muddy gray parking lot. The snow is beginning to melt, and I think I can almost smell spring.” 

Always observant, Julia often notices the weather and scenery around her. After finishing her outpatient therapy program, her positive reaction to the change in the weather and the coming of spring symbolize her healing. Even though she is still uncertain if she will ever be like “normal people,” she now has medicine and adequate coping mechanisms that will help.

“What if I’m wrong about my sister? What if she was the sweet, boring Olga I always knew her to be? What if I just want to think there was something below the surface? What if, in my own messed-up way, I want her to be less than perfect, so I didn’t feel like such a fuck-up?”

When Julia attempts to unlock Olga’s laptop to search for more clues, she finds herself doubting her suspicions. Given how often her parents compare her to Olga, Julia finally admits to herself that her motive for uncovering something “bad” about Olga might be to make herself feel better. Even when Julia’s suspicions are confirmed, however, they do not bring much solace, because Julia is then burdened by Olga’s secrets and the choice of causing her parents pain. 

“How could I have been so dumb not to notice anything? But then again, how would anyone have known? Olga kept this sealed up and buried like an ancient tomb. My whole life I’ve been considered the bad daughter, while my sister was secretly living another life, the kind of life that would shatter Amá into tiny pieces. I don’t want to be mad at Olga because she’s dead, but I am.” 

When Julia reads through Olga’s emails and learns of her affair with Dr. Castillo, she momentarily blames herself for not realizing what was happening sooner. She resents Olga for maintaining her image as the “perfect” daughter while harboring this scandalous secret, leaving Julia to bear the brunt of her family’s criticism. Olga’s affair parallels Amá’s traumatic assault, which Julia learns about in Mexico—another family secret “buried like an ancient tomb.”

“I look down at my hands and realize he’s right. They are smooth and soft, not at all like my parents’, which are always chapped and worn. My hands look like they’ve never had to work hard, and I’d like to keep them that way.” 

Julia talks to Tio Chucho on their way to Mama Jacinta’s house, and he points out that she has “rich-lady hands” (242). Julia realizes just how evident her parents’ demanding work is on their bodies, which only further motivates her to live a vastly different life than they do. Only with time does Julia come to understand and appreciate all that her parents have done to provide Julia with a life free of hard labor. 

“Maybe Amá was right for once. Maybe this is what I needed.” 

Julia is initially very reluctant to go to Mexico to visit her family, thinking that parents who “[ship] their children back to the motherland” are foolish to think it will solve anything (228). However, the love and attention she receives from her extended family, her time spent outdoors, and the chance to learn about her parents on a deeper level have a profound effect on Julia. Her time in Mexico helps her heal and teaches her to approach her parents (and herself) with more empathy and understanding.

“My body feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. I picture my mother’s face streaked with tears and dirt, my father bowing his head in defeat. ‘And Olga? What about Olga? She was… She was…’ I can’t get the words out.” 

While shopping with Tia Fermina, Julia learns that Amá was raped at the border while Apa was held at gunpoint, and Olga’s birth was the result of Amá’s assault. This secret burdens Julia, and she struggles to keep it to herself. Understanding how traumatic her parents’ border crossing was, however, helps Julia approach Amá and Apa with more compassion and empathy.

“There’s nothing for me here. I’m sick of this place [...] All I know is that I’ve had enough of this life.” 

Esteban, Julia’s crush in Mexico, feels the same way about his life in Los Ojos as Julia feels about her life in Chicago. They both feel trapped, and the lives they dream about feel impossible. Julia comes to realize that these sentiments can exist in both places, and that it is for these parallel reasons that her parents left Mexico for America. 

“I’m ignorant, mija. Can’t you see that? There are so many different things I don’t know. I wish things were different. I know you hate me, but I love you with all my heart.”

At dinner when Julia returns from Mexico, Amá reminds Julia that she barely attended school, which is one of the larger barriers between them, preventing them from understanding one another’s lives. They tearfully insist that they love each other, and Amá apologizes for blaming Julia for Olga’s death. For the first time, she openly discusses her feelings and how difficult it has been for her to cope. This genuine exchange between them marks the beginning of their efforts to improve their relationship.

“There are times the secrets feel like strangling vines. Is it considered lying when you hold something locked up inside you? What if the information would only cause people pain? Who would benefit from knowing about Olga’s affair and pregnancy? Is it selfish for me to keep this all to myself? Would it be messed up if I said it just so I don’t have to live with it alone? It’s exhausting.” 

Olga and Amá’s secrets are a constant burden for Julia. Angie, Dr. Castillo, and Tia Fermina have all insisted that Julia would do more harm than good by sharing what she knows with her parents, but Julia feels it is unfair for her to carry them alone. However, her mental health and relationship with her parents have improved enough that she selflessly keeps the secrets to herself, not wanting to cause her parents any unnecessary pain. 

“Julia, sometimes in life you don’t get to do what you want to do. Sometimes you have to deal with what’s given to you, shut up, and keep working. That’s it.” 

Julia finally works up the courage to ask Apa why he quit being an artist, and his brusque response ends the conversation. It epitomizes the difference of Julia’s mentality compared to her parents: while Apa and Amá have accepted their unfair hand in life and simply push forward by working hard, Julia cannot imagine abandoning her passion for writing, and she is determined to make her life into what she wants it to be, despite her circumstances.

“How can I leave them like this? How can I just live my life and leave them behind? What kind of person does that? Will I ever forgive myself?” 

For the first time, Julia doubts if leaving her parents to go to college is the right choice. She has dreamt about this day for years, but when the time finally comes to leave, her sense of obligation to her family overwhelms her. The “perfect” daughter would succumb to these feelings of guilt, but Julia knows that she must go to college and make the most of the choices her parents never had. 

“It’s his dream to live in the U.S., but I almost wish he won’t. Even if he makes it alive, this place is not the promised land for everyone.”

Flying into New York City, Julia thinks about Esteban in Mexico. Knowing how traumatic the border crossing was for her parents, and how hard they have had to work to create a life for their family in America, Julia worries about him trying to immigrate. As dissatisfied as Julia is with her life most of the time, she has grown to understand just how difficult life has been for her parents, relatives, and other immigrants in her community.