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CONTRIBUTOR

A Letter To My Mom,
An Immigrant: The Day
After Election Day
Please teach me how to forgive their hate.
11/09/2016 05:06 pm ET | Updated 4 days ago

Liliana Llamas
Multiplatform Journalist, Filmmaker

LILIANA LLAMAS

I saw you wake before the crack of dawn every day growing up in
our small Texas town. You were tired but determined; exhausted
but cheerful.
We were poor, but you were patient. Your patience gave me hope.
We couldnt afford the dance classes, so you put mirrors on the
wall and watched me dance in the living room. You saw me at my
worst but still expected the best.
At school, I was different, they would tell me. I was Mexican. My
eyebrows were too bushy. My skin was too brown. My Spanish
was too perfect.
But at home, I was different, too. I was American. I was Chicana. I
spoke English. I dressed differently. I wasnt Mexican enough.
Both worlds are what you dreamed for me a little brown girl with
an American dream. You never once doubted that dream, so I
confidently followed it. You told me I was enough, and I believed
you. I belonged.
You watched me assimilate to the same American culture that
says you dont belong here, but you knew that I did, and that was
enough for you. Because their criticism meant very little
compared to the American dream.
I am sorry that I never once asked if you missed home. Home,
home.
I am sorry that I never once thanked you for leaving behind the
country you so deeply love for my dreams, achievements, and
privileges.
You were brave. You and dad married, leaving behind everything
you knew about life so that everything I would learn could be
accompained with opportunity.

You tolerated ridicules of your Spanish accent, because they


didnt know it was beautiful. You forgave them and taught me to
do so also.
You forgave candidates who despise you, because you genuinely
believed in the good faith of the American people.
I forgive them for being fearful, because you have taught me to do
so, but please teach me how to forgive their hate.
You fought for me, so I cast my vote always thinking of you. You
fought for my dream, and I will fight for your future.
I am sorry because maybe I should have fought harder, sooner,
not just for you but also for the millions of immigrant parents and
children like you.
The ones who work long days with little pay and no benefits not
for their wants but for their childrens dreams; the ones who, like
yourself, forgive those who cannot see the beauty in diversity.
The ones who have not seen your struggle, pain, and endurance. I
forgive them for being fearful, because you have taught me to do
so, but please teach me how to forgive their hate.
You worked a low-wage job so that I could graduate from one of
the best universities in the nation so that you could hang that
University of Texas diploma by the front door and tell visitors
about your daughter, reinforcing the immigrant American dream.
An American dream big enough for everybody.
Please know that I see the blame you take for me that I know
you are saddened when accused of taking American jobs. But I
want you to know that its the children of immigrants who are
taking jobs jobs in technology, education, government,
communication its not you. Its us.
It is the children of immigrants who grew up seeing the great
sacrifices made by parents like you to give us a chance at this
American dream, and our success is a form of repayment for your

hard work. It will never be enough, but your sacrifices are the sole
foundation of our ethics and efforts in this journey. You are the
inspiring force behind our choices, because your bravery is not
taken for granted.
We are grateful.
I am neither from here nor there. Two lives separated by one border.
Two futures defined by opportunity or lack thereof. Your past and my
future brought together by your choice of strength, resilience, and
faith.
Thank you for teaching me about your life, our culture, and the
opportunities this country gives us.
Thank you for teaching me to love my countries porque no soy
de aqu ni soy de all. I am neither from here nor there. Two lives
separated by one border. Two futures defined by opportunity or
lack thereof. Your past and my future brought together by your
choice of strength, resilience, and faith.
I love being a Mexican-American. I love this country.
I just wish it loved us, too.

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