In the Country We Love: My Family Divided

Chapters 9 through 12 offer an account of Guerrero’s life in the years immediately following the deportation of her parents. Despite the upheavals in her personal life, and through sheer tenacity, she successfully completes her freshman year at BAA. In fact, her passion for performing effectively distracts her from her problems. She lives at Amelia’s house for about a year after her parents’ deportation (reiterating the theme of compassionate generosity of early chapters). As welcoming as Amelia and her children are, however, Guerrero is acutely aware of her precarious status in their home: “She, Gabriela, and her other two children, both of whom were in their twenties, made me feel part of the family. They were beyond hospitable—and yet I knew I was a guest” (106). Indeed, Amelia asks Guerrero to leave after her oldest daughter gets pregnant. She swears the decision is logistical, but Guerrero blames herself: “Did I cause this? What did I do? What makes them want to get rid of me all of a sudden?” she asks herself when she learns the news” (120). Her efforts to be the perfect houseguest have come to naught. Fortunately for Guerrero, Eva proves to be as compassionate and selfless as Amelia. Guerrero moves in with Eva and her family, remaining in their home until she leaves for college.

Like many first-generation Americans, Guerrero shoulders adult responsibilities at a young age. In previous chapters, she describes acting as a translator for her parents during doctors’ visits, with lawyers, and even at the grocery store. In Chapter 10, she takes on another adult role—she becomes financially responsible. Papi sends Amelia and Eva money from his lottery winnings in the early period following his deportation. After the lottery earnings dry up, he sends money from his meager paychecks. Guerrero loathes being a burden on her father: “If I requested cash for, say, school supplies, he’d scrape it together—but I’d then later discover he was running short on grocery money. So I stopped asking” (122). Guerrero’s desire for financial independence prompts her to get a job as a cashier earning minimum wage. She juggles her studies and 20 work hours every week, all before finishing high school. While many of her peers act out—cutting class and partying—Guerrero epitomizes restraint and responsibility: “In a way, not having Mami and Papi close led me to give myself rules […] It’s like I was parenting myself in their absence. I wanted to show people that even without my family here, I could remain on track” (125). The deportation of her parents, then, forced Guerrero to grow up faster than most.

A key take-away from Guerrero’s memoir is that deportation destroys families. Guerrero’s relationship with her parents grows increasingly distant over the years. Her first visit to Colombia at the age of 15 is a momentous occasion. She feels a strong connection to her parents’ birth country, having grown up speaking Spanish, eating Colombian food, listening to Colombian music, and hearing stories about her Colombian relatives. As excited as Guerrero is to see her parents, she soon realizes that distance has created a rift in their relationship. This is especially true of her bond with her mother, whom she blames for the family’s misfortunes. Guerrero spends more time going to salsa clubs with her cousins than she does with her mother. Phone calls with her parents become less frequent when she returns to the US. When she gets to college, she tells her friends that her parents are dead or retired. By the end of her college years, she actively ignores her parents by dodging their calls and requests to visit. Distance destroyed their relationship, making even simple conversations uncomfortable:

When we did catch up, the conversations were stilted and awkward. Where do you begin when you haven’t talked to someone in a year? How do you talk through all the moments you’ve missed? You really can’t. And every time I put down the phone after talking with them, I felt as if my own mother and father were strangers to me, people I’d perhaps known in a former life but whom I did not recognize anymore (150).

Mental illness is a recurring theme in Guerrero’s memoir. In early chapters, she writes about Eric’s battle with depression, which leads to academic and behavioral problems, as well as divorce. Guerrero’s struggles with mental illness begin at an early age (she describes harming herself for God before the age of 10), but they intensify during her final years in college. Mounting debt and academic disappointment send her on a downward spiral. She pushes her loved ones away. She stops taking her pills and self-medicates with alcohol, drinking to the point of blacking out. She begins cutting herself, first secretly, and later in front of Brian. Driving her destructive behavior are the deep wounds she carries from childhood:

I looked in the mirror and cried out for my mother. ‘Ma! Mama! Where are you? Please–Mama, Papa!’ Like a child, I wrapped my arms around my knees and rocked my body back and forth, as if doing so would soothe my distress (143).

Guerrero’s depression ultimately leads to her suicide attempt on the roof of her building. As she sits on the ledge, negative thoughts run through her mind: “I’m useless. I’ll never amount to anything. I’m not smart enough to get through college. How can I help Mami and Papi when I can’t even help myself? The world would be better off without me in it” (154). The negativity gives way first to serenity, and then to sleep. When Guerrero wakes, she is startled to find herself on the roof. Fear creeps in. The moment marks a turning point for Guerrero. The road to mental wellness is a long one, but her decision not to jump that fateful night is an important first step.