Jordi Mendez-Paris 

09/17/2023 

Final Draft: Family Narrative 

I waited patiently at the dinner table while my mom was serving my oldest brother another plate. “That’s not fair” I thought to myself, attempting to contain the anger I felt witnessing my mother’s favoritism once again. “And here’s the last for you!!!!”, My mom said. “Gracias” My oldest brother, Andre, said. The silence was loud between me and Andre. Instead of eating, I just watched in jealously and gave him a cold stare as he ate his food. Sensing he was being watched, he screamed “MOM COME HERE” in Spanish. Immediately, I was yelled at by my mother and given a lecture on my bad behavior. This is one of many instances of blatant favoritism.

My parents are immigrants—they came from their remote towns in Mexico in search of a better life for themselves, bringing nothing but their dreams and culture. I was either 4 or 5 when I noticed there was something different about the relationship my older brother, Andre, had with my parents. At the time, I didn’t think it was a big deal but looking back, it is definitely not the norm.

We walked down the steps in front of the building as we felt the cool breeze of early morning summer against our backs. “Look mom a butterfly, a car with three wheels, the CARWASH!!!” I shouted, to the annoyance of my mother. “Shhhhhh you’re being too loud!!!” my mother said seemingly annoyed, while gesturing with her fingers for me to silence. However, soon after Andre began to speak about something in Spanish. I glanced over at my mom, and I noticed that she was immediately responsive and seemed to be interested in something related to soccer, music, and summer. Andre continued blabbering while my mother engaged in his conversation. While we walked through the neighborhood, I decided to clear my mind and focus my eyes on the beauty of the sky to avoid the awkwardness of my own silence. 

I had made it to school—after 15 minutes of walking behind them. They had thought I wandered off while they were talking “Why? What if something happened to you and we didn’t notice?” Andre said furious about what I had done. “I don’t know… I don’t…sorry” I mumbled. “Don’t do that again” he said before storming off to his classroom… School was out, and my mom had started walking us home. Still thinking about the morning, I calmly asked “Why didn’t you let me talk I wanted to talk to you.” She turns her head, sighs, and slowly says “You are not fun to talk with. You think you are American, and your Spanish is no good”. I looked at her with a confused look—the one people make when someone says something that doesn’t make any sense. It took me about 10 seconds to process what I had just heard. “We’re not in Mexico…” Her expression turned into one of shock and her face had turned a bright red color as she tried to shrug off my comment but failed.

“Stay in the room”. She said in Spanish but me not understanding, got myself yelled at once again for “not being Mexican enough”. Whatever that meant. “What is even the big deal” I thought. My Spanish wasn’t great due to my parents constantly working and nobody had the patience to teach me—not even my extended family. Remembering the times, I was teased and made fun of. I felt alone. As I thought of solutions—and failed, I began to stomp my feet in anger and then I threw myself on the bed and began screaming with no sound. A tantrum, a private tantrum I imagined. “This will show her!!!” It didn’t. 

 I’ve felt strange about my identity regarding my ethnicity and culture since around that age where I was a problem simply because of something my parents wanted for me. Like David, a confused child that is somewhat lost but by no means a problem. I was able to grasp the culture and language of the country I was born in before that of home which is bit similar to David in the sense that he had to be enrolled to the cheder by his parents to pass on the culture. Different circumstances but very similar parental expectations and situations. In my case, my extended family was given the role of teaching me the culture, except it didn’t work as they envisioned it to.