EMPOWERING YOUTH: GRANDMOTHERS SPEAK UP!
Hard Life Lessons and What They Learned. (AUDIO Available)
A Safe Kids Now series for young people.
Everyone faces challenges, fears, and setbacks. What truly defines us isn’t the events themselves, but how we respond to them. While some might react with anger, hurting themselves or lashing out at others, there are those who find resilience, grow stronger, and achieve their goals.
When I was 15, my mother and her boyfriend took me to Mexico City to study art and Spanish. I was supposed to be a high school sophomore, but they told Mexico City College I was eighteen and already graduated. Since I was nearly five feet nine inches tall, everyone thought I was older. Back then, college seemed like an exciting adventure.
They rented a room for me and said they’d be back in two weeks. Little did I know that her boyfriend needed her money and help entertaining his clients; he was a lobbyist and politician in Washington, D.C.
At Mexico City College, I met some exchange students from Ohio State, and everything seemed great until I realized two weeks had passed and I was running out of money. By the end of the month, the landlady asked for the rent, which I didn’t have. I didn’t know where my mother was, so I started to worry. I told the landlady she would be back any day.
A new 19-year-old student moved in, whose mother was American and father was Mexican. Margarita was beautiful, with long black hair and blue eyes, and she spoke both Spanish and English. She and a girlfriend had planned a double date, but her friend got sick, so she asked me if I wanted to go instead. My first thought was, I’ve never been on a real date, and I didn’t speak Spanish. But Margarita reassured me that she would help and that we would have a good time, so I said okay. She piled my hair on top of my head and lent me her dangling earrings.
Two young men in their twenties, students at the medical university, arrived and didn’t speak English. My Spanish was very basic, but we all tried to communicate as we headed out for dinner and a Spanish-language movie. It became clear that Juan was Margarita’s boyfriend when I saw them kissing during the movie. My date, Antonio, thought it was okay to put his hand on my knee and then his arm around my shoulder, which I quickly pushed away. He smiled, and I thought he understood my message.
After the movie, they talked so quickly that I wasn’t sure where we were headed. Margarita said we were going to a bar. It took us half an hour to reach an old, dingy bar on the outskirts of Mexico City. It was nearly midnight, and the place was crowded with loud music. The guys ordered a round of beers, but I didn’t like the taste. I sipped mine slowly while they ordered a second and third. Suddenly, Juan got up, took Margarita’s hand, and led her to a staircase at the back of the room. My heart skipped a beat as I realized what was happening. Antonio smiled at me and took my hand, but I pulled away. He tried to coax me to go upstairs with him in his broken English.
When I refused to go upstairs, Antonio’s smile faded, and he raised his voice, continuing to pressure me. A few men at the bar chuckled and encouraged him to take control of the situation. I realized I was in a tough spot, with no support and no way out. My heart pounded as I silently called for help. Since Antonio was ignoring me, I stood up, looked him directly in the eyes, and said, “If you don’t stop this right now, I will call the university tomorrow and tell them about your behavior.” That made Antonio freeze, and the men at the bar went back to their conversations. They might not have spoken English, but they understood my body language.
On the way back, there was total silence, and I said nothing to Margarita. That ended our relationship, and she moved out to be with Juan. Although I didn’t make any friends that night, I was proud that I had stood up to Antonio’s bullying.
I learned that I couldn’t choose my family or every situation, but I could decide how to handle tough circumstances and take control of my future.
The week before my date with Margarita, I felt anxious about my mother and my finances. My landlady warned me that if I didn’t pay my rent, I would have to find a new place to live. I was worried I might end up homeless in an unfamiliar country.
My grandmother once told me, “If you ever have a problem, you can always ask for God’s help.” I was walking home from the bus stop when I saw a small chapel. Since I didn’t have anyone to talk to, I went inside and remember sitting there for a long time. I don’t recall praying, but when I left, I felt better. I had plans to see the Dean of Women and ask for help, but I got sick, and my health started to deteriorate. I went from bad to worse—my temperature was a hundred and three, I had mouth sores, I developed soreness all over my body, and I stopped eating. The landlady couldn’t throw me out, but she was worried and called a doctor. He didn’t know what was wrong and suggested she contact my mother. At my suggestion, she reached out to the Dean of Women, who came to visit me. She was alarmed when she saw my condition and vowed to find my mother.
I thought I was dreaming when my mother arrived. The Dean had tracked down her boyfriend, a well-known Washington politician. The doctor warned her that immigration officials might not let me into the country because I had an unknown disease. The doctor and my mother decided that we should fly to the border without any luggage. We would buy trinkets to look like tourists, walk across the border, rent a car, and drive from Laredo to the hospital in San Antonio, Texas.
I spent a week in the hospital, suffering from malnutrition and an allergic reaction to chocolate. For many weeks, the only food I could eat was ice cream, with chocolate being my favorite.
My relationship with my mother changed after my four-month experience in Mexico. I was never angry at her because she was under her boyfriend’s control. However, we agreed that I would never live with them in Washington. I went back to boarding school and graduated with my class at Pasadena City College.
I met my future husband and his family in Pasadena. My mother refused to attend my wedding when I was 18. I married an incredible man who encouraged me to forgive my mother for my own sake. We had three amazing children. Later, my mother married her boyfriend, who took all her money and ruined her life. She fell into depression and became an alcoholic. I cared for her during the last four months of her life, and she apologized and asked for forgiveness. I told her I forgave her when I got married. She asked, “Why didn’t you tell me?” I replied, “Why didn’t you ask?”
I realized that dwelling on anger makes us vulnerable to depression, substance abuse, and other self-destructive actions. It’s not the events themselves but our reactions to them that matter. Practicing self-love is the key to overcoming anger and hate, while loving others fosters forgiveness, strengthens character, boosts resilience, and leads to a more fulfilling life.
Stephanie L. Mann, Author, Crime and Violence Prevention Consultant, safekidsnow.com
