The American dream is a concept that was invented by the success of immigrants. It is what is uttered by the mouths of millions across the world, and what inspires many to come to this country. Yeah, it's success, but how do we know when it's achieved? What evidence is there that proves that immigrant efforts towards the land of opportunity are worth it? Here is my version of this dream.
La Violencia erupted in Bogota, Colombia, in 1948. Colombia collapsed into a state of political distress. My grandfather was barely 10 when this happened and was the eldest of nine brothers and sisters. Shortly, the responsibility of two parents, fell onto one boy. My grandfather gave up his childhood in order to give to his younger siblings everything that his parents never really had the chance to give them. And he gave them a much better fate than many others had, with the same position. After La Violencia passed, he married the love of his life, Marta Mariño. He and my grandmother moved to New York with their firstborn in his infancy, and began to build a life in a land that promised opportunity. After having my mother, and then my second uncle in that order, the family of five moved back to their beautiful land in 1980. Through the hard work that my grandparents did, they were able to return to Colombia, and give their new family a life that they never would've dreamed of being possible at the age of their children. Food everyday, a house to call home, and an education was a reality for my mom and her brothers instead of a possibility because of my grandfather, Jorge Infante.
The second youngest sister of five, my grandmother was a product of hardworking parents in rural Colombia. She began to become independent in her teens, and found herself to be a single mother to my father when she was 24. Always moving between Bogota and Cali, my grandmother found residence in the latter for my parent's adolescence. She worked day in and day out in order to provide the funds for my father to have an education. And despite his continuous antics and tendency to do virtually everything that could possibly thwart her efforts, Himelda Martinez saw her son graduate high school, and enter college.
The fortitude of my grandparents gave way to two powerful and hard working individuals. My mother, at an early age cooked for over 10 people, cleaned a household of the same amount, kept her two brothers in check, and was a badass in her work and her school. Despite her short stature, the work that my mother has always done towers any smokestack in the world. Like any other Latina, the sweat on her brow is demonstration of her strength, and the beauty of her appearance is only a glimpse of the grandiosity of her character. My father's mistakes as a boy show in the quality of a man that he is. After high school, he knew that he was more than capable of going to college, and working toward a future greater than many had foreseen for him. He worked harder than most would think of doing, and began to put himself through college, with his hard earned money, while helping out his mother at home. When my parents found out that they were to have a child, my father dropped out of college to provide for me. His education was sacrifice enough for my commodity. My mother finished her Bachelor's degree shortly after she had me. Since the beginning, my parents have made sure that I had everything that I could ever need and more. Despite the many financial difficulties that we had, they always provided for me.
The decision to come to the United States was made with the mindset that by moving here, we would have more options to live well. So my mother moved here a year before my father and me, and began to build a home for us to arrive to, while my father was doing the proper paperwork to come here legally. After getting here, my mother worked days and nights so that we'd arrive, and live comfortably. Despite my father's lack of English, he was always the best in his work, and managed to do well.
Then there's me. I've never lived war. I've never lived poverty. I've had to see my parents grit their teeth a few times, sure, but it's never been anything unmanageable. even if I would've had siblings, I'm sure that I would never have had to take the role of a parent. I've grown up in a home of love and support, where I've been lucky to have both parents, as I know many who've had to grow up with divorce and it's side effects. I'm blessed. Truly. I went to school and didn't have to pay a cent after we moved here, and because of that, I have the opportunity to get a college education. The sacrifices made by my parents, and their parents before them are so that I could have the chance to be where I am today. My extensive comfort and opportunity is measurement of what they have done.
I am the product of the American dream.
