Border, Frontera, y El Otro Lado?
Posted September 19th, 2007by Irma Flores-Manges
These three little words bring up different feelings in me. Border makes me think about being imprisoned, marginalized, and disenfranchised. Frontera reminds me of the frontier untamed, not cultured, and uncouth. El otro lado, as we always called Nuevo Laredo, was connecting with family, and a continuation of my world. I use all three words interchangeably because they all mean the same to me. Some people see and saw two countries, two cultures, two worlds. I grew up on the border during the 1950s, ’60s, and ’70s. I always felt I was a part of both sides of the river because my father’s families were indigenous people from Monterrey and Bustamante. My mother’s families were from Texas and her family goes back three generations. El Rio Bravo was only a perceived divide if you lived on its banks. It was just a river to cross to get where we wanted to go, even just to eat. Some people had to cross to come to work in Laredo. There was a free flow of people every day at all hours.
Living on the border encouraged me to read, write, and speak in both Spanish and in English; estan las dos idiomas en mi sangre. I never felt displaced or fragmented; soy una hija de la frontera. Spanish for my family was very important. There was no complete assimilation to English per se. English was used it to get things done in school and at work, but at home we spoke only Spanish to my abuelos and tios. I watched TV and listened to the radio in both English and Spanish. I love music in Spanish from all over Latin America – it is beautiful, lyrical, passionate, and sensual. I heard los cuentos “La Llorona,” “El Cucui,” “El Baile con el Diablo,” and others from my abuelos on hot summer nights sitting under the stars.
My family was a very important part of my life. My mom encouraged me to read by taking me to second-hand bookstores to buy books even though we did not have much money. She took me to the library every Saturday, which was an adventure because it was on the second floor of the police station. My abuelas and tias were very strong women role models who worked in the fields and were midwives. They still took care of the home and children. I learned from them to dream of what I wanted to do with my life and do it. They taught me No Te Dejes Mi Hija, be strong and happy. My abuelos and tios were very respectful to women and encouraged them to be independent and they did not boss them around. We had a strong family support system.
I grew up going to Catholic Schools taught by Ursuline Nuns who did not punish us for speaking Spanish. I went to school with kids from Nuevo Laredo, Jewish kids, kids with parents in the military, Black/Anglo. The nuns always treated us all with respect. They never made us feel ashamed of who we were. They were strict in school so that we could learn and get into college. They encouraged us to dream about our future. They instilled in me a love of reading and learning. My English teacher in high school, Sister Gerard, was our librarian. She taught me how to do research and how to complete difficult papers. She was a role model for me to become a librarian. Sister Helen, who I have known and loved for 45 years, has always been supportive in all my endeavors. I was lucky to go to a Catholic school but my friends who went to public school had the same pride in who they were. I have always been proud of being bilingual and bicultural, fitting into two cultures without giving up one or the other, just blending them together to make me whole.
Laredo was a great place to grow up. I could go to town on the bus, which stopped in front of my grandmother’s house. I would meet my friends and go to the movies. We did not have to be afraid; it felt safe. I had family working downtown so all I had to do was wait for a ride home, or they would give me money for the bus if I spent all my money. Downtown was always crowded and had all these small stores that sold anything you would ever want. There was a dark side – the poverty, people begging in the streets, which was heartbreaking.
Living on the border, I liked going to Nuevo Laredo every week to buy groceries. We would go to the plaza to watch people get their fortune told, buy yerbas for tea, get an amulet, buy Supermachos and other revistas. We went to the libreria to buy books in Spanish. Nuevo Laredo was an open market selling beautiful clothes, pottery, piñatas, and blankets. The smell of fresh ground coffee, food on every street corner, pineapple, mango/chile on a stick, aguas de melon/sandia/tamarindo/jamaica, paletas, pan dulce was enticing to the palate. We would go to the movies. At the end of the day, we would eat machitos and cabrito roasting in the window of La Principal. We went to Nuevo Laredo every weekend and the people from there came to Laredo to buy clothes and other things.
This is what it was like growing up on the border years ago. Today things are different; there is more discord. There are gangs and too many drugs. The immigration issue has gotten out of hand. People are suspicious of everyone. It is dangerous to go to Nuevo Laredo because anyone can be randomly shot. I still go because I miss going there to eat and see the sights and sounds. Life is hard. Our family still keeps in touch but we no longer all live in the same town. Some of us forgot where we came from and speak only English and the rest of us are proud of our heritage. I still go home because that is where I feel complete. It is hard to explain. I have a part – mi Alma y Corazon – in the land where I grew up and my family is buried. I can feel their presence there. No matter where I live that will always be home for me, especially if I have family there.
This is just my experience, which can be very different from others who were punished for speaking Spanish and told not be proud of who they were. My story is my own experience and others from the same town may see things differently. I believe we all have a right to share our stories and just be proud of whom we are and that there are diverse stories to share.
Things Have Changed On the Border/Frontera/El Otro Lado, a poem by Irma Flores-Manges
I recently wrote the poem, “Things Have Changed On The Border/Frontera/El Otro Lado,” to read at the opening of the Mexican American Cultural Center in Austin. I had been asked what it was like growing up in Laredo because of all the different experiences people have living in El Paso, Brownsville, and the Valley. We all have valid life experiences, which should be heard and honored. I always wondered if I had anything to say with my poems or my stories because they seem so normal, not tragic or comical.
My friend Rudy Anaya always encouraged me to write from my experience and my heart. He told me everyone has a story that should be told and cherished to honor where you come from. So I offer you my story and encourage others to write theirs. Everyone needs to be acknowledged and validated for their life and story.
Times Have Changed on the Border/Frontera/ El Otro Lado
No more free flow of familas visiting across the border
No more free flow of people who work on one side and live on the other
No more free flow of people to just enjoy going to the plaza
No more free flow of people to go to the doctor
Everyone is suspect
Drug lords move in
Death on both sides of the border
Need a passport soon just to go visit family
No longer safe to cross easily
No longer safe to visit my Abuelos/Tios graves
No longer safe to be at home in small towns in South Texas
No longer safe to be anywhere
Our immigration laws are destroying the border because everyone feels suspect even us. We are brown aren’t we? Life on the border has changed but it is still home.
