Balancing the Dream: The Images And Experiences Of A First Generation Cuban American

By Elizabeth Pérez Robertson

Close the door. Leave all your possessions behind. Embark onto uncharted waters. Arrive to a new land that embraces you with open arms. Face your new reality. Learn a new language. Roll up your sleeves and start over. Welcome! Who are you now? Global instability has existed throughout history, bringing with it unforeseen circumstances. Through this autoethnography, the author brings to life her own experiences growing up with two cultural identities. The story is told through a series of family photographs and familial anecdotes. It explores intergenerational influences that shaped her approach in aspects of her personal as well as professional life as an educator. The reader comes along on the journey as each chapter provides a voice to the discourse. The author attempts to shape an identity within her hybrid existence. Hoping not to lose the best of her two worlds, she chooses instead to endure the struggle to balance them. Although revealed through the words of a first generation Cuban American, the narration serves to stir, within the reader, the inquiries and memories of all that have the desire to look deeper into their own identity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Oct 11, 2017
• ISBN: 9781640284951

Book preview

Abstract

This is an autoethnographic story about the author’s experiences growing up with two identities as a first generation Cuban American educator. Told through a series of family photographs and familial voices, it explores intergenerational influences that shaped the author’s approach to all aspects of education, including teaching, learning, educators, students, and parents. By bringing to light her experience trying to balance two identities, the goal is to increase awareness about identity struggles children experience, while also prompting adults to contemplate how their own identity has shaped their influence. This autoethnography does not attempt to reveal and address all of the questions and academic challenges involving children who live balancing two identities. The hybrid experience is just too vast. However, it can serve as a reminder that these children have not, and should not, be forgotten. Perhaps, it will stir similar memories in the reader that will prompt a desire to connect, reconnect, or connect in a deeper way with children who are immersed in and possibly struggling with the hybrid experience.

Dedication

I dedicate this to my great-grandparents whom I never met; my grandparents, three of whom I met on this earth and my paternal grandmother whom I shall meet cuando Dios mande (when it is God’s will); to my parents, Gustavo and Edilia; my sisters, and the rest of my family. All of the aforementioned have a part in helping me balance the hyphen.

I also dedicate this to my loyal and faithful friends who through the years stood by me throughout this entire process, especially when I often convinced myself that I did not need to complete this work and I most wanted to give up.

Most of all, I dedicate this to my children, Christina and Matthew, the next hybrid generation. May they always remember from where their Cubanness originated and balance it with pride.

It is because of all these individuals that I had the courage to write my story. However, it is the true Teacher, Counselor, and Savior, Jesus Christ, who, by living within me, gave me the will and determination to record my story on paper for future generations to experience.

Chapter 1

Introduction to the Journey

I long to have such a memorial of every being dear to me in the world. It is not merely the likeness which is precious in such cases—but the association and the sense of nearness involved in the thing… the fact of the very shadow of the person lying there fixed forever! (Sontag 1977, p. 183)

–From a letter of Elizabeth Barrett written to Mary Russell Mitford in 1843

This is a story about a family and, as there is a ghost involved, you might call it a ghost story. But every family is a ghost story. The dead sit at our tables long after they have gone. (Albom 2006, p. 1)

At first glance, it may appear from the quote above that Mitch Albom was about to embark on recounting a tale that involved phantoms and other supernatural phenomena. However, instead, he tells the story of what it would be like if it would be possible to spend one more day with someone that you loved that has already passed. His is a timeless tale of the power of a mother’s love and her child, a child who wanted to speak to his mother’s spirit that returns for a short visit; an opportunity in time when he could say the right things and clear any misgivings that existed between him and his mother.

My Maternal Great-Grandmother

Mine would be a similar story in that I too wish to share a moment with my deceased great-grandmother and grandmother, even if to only ask if they are content and proud of my accomplishments. Mine is a quest to fulfill the hopes and dreams that three generations of women had for me, the unknown recipient of the good fortune to have been born at the right time, the moment in which society had caught up with that vision that my great-grandmother had over a century ago, the promise of success and opportunity for the women in her family.

Benita

My Maternal Grandmother

However, circumstances derailed the plan, and it was determination and consistency that would put it back on track. This is the story of how a collection of circumstances served to direct me to achieve the goals set forth, by several generations of women, before my birth. I wish to explore the familial values that influenced me, as a child born to Cuban political refugees, to become a thoughtful educator and administrator. The purpose of this work is to bring a voice to the sacrifice that was made by my parents and ancestors who had a vision of what they hoped for me. I will share the unfolding of this legacy as I have come to understand it. This is a story embedded not only in my family, but also in the Cuban culture. Therefore, I believe that the retelling of the series of events that I will include is reflected in the history of many other exiled and immigrant families. Perhaps, in those circumstances, similar accounts are not readily revealed and consequently, the years have erased their significance. However, I stand poised with my ancestors as together we share these selected examples of selflessness, perseverance, and commitment that led to the development of success for me as a Cuban American in the education field. Conceivably, through this story, generations will learn of this journey. It will serve to provide insight into how a group of people came to the United States with just the clothes they were wearing and the educational background they possessed, and seemingly fueled by their determination, successfully raised three daughters who all became educators. This is a story worth telling because it speaks to individuals regardless of gender, ethnicity, or political orientation. It is about sharing my voice with others that will hear their story within mine; they will see that they are not alone in working to balance two identities.

Through the years, the struggles and successes of various Hispanic American groups have been chronicled. However, within that collection, the Cuban American voice seems to have been overlooked. I speculate that it is due to our proud nature, the one that repels the need to dwell on the recounting of our hardships. Instead, we concentrate on working hard to regain, or even to surpass, the same standard of living that we left behind. It has been my experience that the Cuban American mantra is: We must never forget what we have endured for this is what has driven us in moving forward in the process of obtaining our accomplishments. This study is about my family’s path in that process. However, there are many Cuban Americans that shared similar experiences.

Edilia - My Mother

Roots of the Journey

En esta vida hay que ser fuerte.

In this life, one must be strong.

–The words of my mother, Trans.

Carlos Eire (2003) A Cuban American author who fled Cuba at age eleven without his parents, begins his memoir by reflecting on the story he was to share.

Still, all of us are responsible for our own actions.

Not even Fidel is exempt from all of this.

Nor Che, nor his chauffeurs, nor his mansion.

Nor the many Cubans who soiled their pants

before they were shot to death.

Nor the fourteen thousand children who flew away from their parents.

Nor the love and desperation that caused them to fly. (Preamble, para. 6).

Poetically stated, Eire captured the anguish, disillusion, pain, and fear that were now the reality that Cuban exiled parents were to confront. Although this is not a political manuscript meant to sway the reader onto any side of a government agenda, it is a work replete with examples of the ramifications that resulted out of the genocide of the Cuban lifestyle that existed pre-Castro.

I remember how my maternal grandfather would reminisce about his early years. He was so proud to have been born in Cuba, in 1898, because it was the year that Spain withdrew its reign over the island. Four years later, Cuba formally gained its independence and my maternal grandmother was born. However, although the political future may have initially appeared promising, the years that followed were plagued with dictatorships. By the time my parents were married, Fulgencio Batista was in office for a second term. Although under his leadership, the Cuban people would initially see advancement in a myriad of areas, including the economic, educational and medical fields, conversely, Cubans would also experience the harsh reality of living under a dictatorship.

Hence, Fidel Castro, a young Cuban lawyer who became a political rebel, relentlessly struck against Batista’s regime. On January 1959, with the assistance of several groups, Castro overthrew the dictatorship and began to govern under his terms. His would instill a tyranny that many fellow Cubans would soon begin to flee, and by January 1961, the United States severed ties with the Cuban government. For many, the future of this island, the largest in the West Indies, did not look promising. It quickly became clear to my parents that seeking asylum in the United States was the only option.

Increasingly, Cuban parents began to seek ways in which to attain refuge for their children. I would not be one of the Operation Peter Pan¹¹¹ children who, like Eire, were brought over on the wings of a