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My Family

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Growing up as a Mexican-American was extremely difficult for me. Unfortunately, I was born into a society were divorce was uncommon or looked down upon. Therefore, I wasn’t raised in a “stable” or “normal” family, which usually consists of a father and mother. Instead, my family was rather “odd,” it only consisted of four people; me, my single mother, my eldest brother, who is five years older than me, and my other brother, who is only two years older than me. The problem with my family, was that we did not practice “hardcore” Mexican traditions. For instance, Mexicans teach their children Spanish as their first language. This was not the case when we were being raised. My mother worked long shifts at a bank, therefore my grandparents played a significant parental role while I was growing up. My grandparents were not necessarily old, they had my mother when they were twenty years old and my mother had me when she was thirty. Thus, they were rather “young” for them to be the stereotypical Mexican grandparents. From the day you are born, you’re identity begins to develop. My grandparents helped me establish who I actually am. They taught me their norms and rituals from their past experiences. I was taught never to be greedy and always help those in need, basically never to be selfish. My grandfather grew up in a hostile village in Mexico, then he moved to the city of Monterrey where he fell in love with my grandmother. After having two girls, my mother and my aunt, they got

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