By Ercenia "Alice" Cedeño, Susan Dixon
In the preface to her memoir, Ercenia "Alice" Cedeño recollects the secrecy and turmoil that marked her early life: "I spent so much of my becoming years mad at my mom and in need of her to alter to slot in with the remainder of the world," she writes. "When my sisters and that i sought after her to go to our neighbors' moms, she could say, 'Why do humans want to know different peoples' lives?' on reflection, i'm wondering if she used to be rather asserting, 'I don't desire them to grasp our business.' there has been rather a lot to hide."
Now bringing these hidden stories to gentle, Amá, Your tale Is Mine strains the difficulty, violence, deceit, and defiance that formed the identification of 2 generations of girls in Alice's relations. Born within the mountains of northern Mexico, Alice's mom married at age 14 right into a relations rife with ardour that regularly became to anger. After wasting a number of boy or girl little ones to affliction, the younger couple crossed into the U.S. looking a greater life.
Unfolding in a chain of robust vignettes, Amá, Your tale Is Mine describes in fascinating aspect a bold matriarch who came across herself having to guard her youngsters from their very own father whereas dealing with the demanding situations of cultural discrimination. by means of turns wry and soft, Alice's memories provide an extraordinary memoir that absolutely encompasses the Latina event within the United States.
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Extra info for Ama, Your Story Is Mine: Walking Out of the Shadows of Abuse
Upon leaving the house, he always walked right in the middle of the road. On our street there was a green house hidden behind a mass of trees. This house held a secret. A dark man with an enormous stomach lived in this house. He had shifty eyes that he never fully exposed, shading them behind sunglasses as he disguised himself under a big white sombrero. The dark evil of his being was transparent to us even through this camouflage. Amá warned us never to go near him, but she had no idea of how evil he really was.
In the tense hours that followed there was an eerie quiet surrounding the whole house. Amá stood clutching her apron in one hand, stirring a pot with another, tears rolling down her cheeks. When she saw us, she wiped her eyes. She would not let us ask or talk about what had happened. ” I have often asked myself what was Joe’s real motive in going back to the pool hall. Was it just the social need of a teenager? Or did he take the opportunity to be free of his parents’ household? He might well have claimed the right to be a man, since he had never had the right to be a child.
There were no roads at this time, and the only way to travel was by donkey, mule, or cart. Amá prayed for a fast birth. The mystery of birth was sacred. The family would gather to observe the miracle until the midwife, covered from head to toe in dark clothes, showed up with a pan of hot water in her hands and muslin cloth draped across her arm. The children would be sent outside with the husband, but even the youngest were aware of what was about to happen, for a baby would always appear. The villagers would continue their daily routines until the first cry of the child released everyone from the tension.