“Be strong, hermana.” These are the words my brother-in-law says to me each time we are hugging goodbye. Why does he say this to me? How did this saying come about? Thinking about it now, for my brother to be in the place he is now, he needed to be strong. Fuerte as they say in Spanish.
I first met my brother-in-law in August of 2012. It was right before my sweet sixteen, and he was the new guy my sister had brought home for my parents to meet. His name was Alex. Alex Martinez. He was a shy guy (or so I thought at first) and I did not know what to make of him.
His English was unclear and barely understandable. My father struggled to even grasp what he was trying to say, and my mother used the tiny bit of Spanish she knew to try to communicate with him, even though she used the word for cat instead of pencil. I could tell he felt uncomfortable sometimes, and was frustrated that he struggled to communicate with my parents. My sister tried her best to help convey his ideas. I used my knowledge of the Spanish I had learned in school to communicate with him. As soon as I started talking to him in Spanish, his face lit up, as a sense of ease filled his body. He had been so stressed about trying to talk to his new girlfriend’s parents, that he started doubt how his relationship with my sister would pan out. I can’t even imagine how he must have felt, both embarrassment and shame, from not being able to talk to my parents.
Alex is from Honduras, a small country in Central America. His full name is actually Carmen Alex Euceda Martinez, but he prefers to be called Alex rather than Carmen. He grew up on a large farm in a small poverty-stricken village. He lived with his mother, his father, four brothers and one sister. When Alex was little, his mother would send him out to catch one of the chickens, kill it, and bring it back to the house for the whole family to eat for dinner. When I first heard this story, I was repulsed and disgusted, but then I realized it’s just another way of life.
Life was difficult in Honduras. It was hard for his family and other families to make ends meet. Health care was a foreign idea, and it was a primitive society in some senses. Education was not valued, nor enforced. Alex did not receive an education, and anything he learned was taught to him at home by his mother. In 1993, two of Alex’s brothers, decided that they wanted to move to America to make money, so that they could create better lives for themselves. The two brothers obtained a green card and found themselves traveling to New York. After a few months, they began sending money back to the family, which inspired Alex to leave the country as well and head for the United States of America. He saw the United States as a way to live the dream that he had always wanted, and to better himself and his future.
It’s difficult for people born and raised here to understand the golden pathways that America projects to other countries, but to so many who face poverty America is the door leading away from the poverty that has suppressed their lives. The United States provides opportunities for people to make money, not only to create a sustained life here, but many times to send back` to their families at home. In 1999, Alex obtained a green card and was able to come here for work. He purchased a one way ticket to New York. Imagine. A one way ticket. An unknown destination becomes your new permanent home. He met up with his brothers who had settled in Oyster Bay on Long Island. They shared a house together, as rent is too expensive for each of them to own their own dwelling.
It was in Oyster Bay that Alex began to learn the techniques and skills needed to become a chef. I emphasize the word chef because so many people look at Hispanic immigrants and think, “Oh, they’re just a cook in the back frying the French fries.” No. That was not Alex. Mi hermano became a chef and worked in a restaurant up in Oyster Bay. One of his brother’s is a chef too, and the other became a handyman. Eventually, the other two brothers came to the United States, leaving only the sister and the parents back in Honduras. There’s a stereotype of Hispanic immigrants that all they are useful for is clearing dishes, working in the back of food places, or doing lawn work. Alex, however, defies this stereotype. He stepped out of the “cook” role and became a chef. He creates his own dishes, combines flavors that the most highly skilled chefs couldn’t have thought of, and makes the most delicious food.
Being a chef in a society that tends to look down upon immigrants from Central America is tough and challenging. People judge him, and feel a sense of superiority to him. They think he’s not good enough or skilled enough. They underpay and overwork him because he cannot speak English. Bosses and managers have taken advantage of him because he cannot stick up for himself as a result of his lack of English speaking skills. It is sad because of how amazing he is at making and cooking food. Immigrants in constantly face this issue of trying to communicate with people here in the United States. English is a difficult language for foreigners to learn, and coming to a country where English surrounds you on television, newspapers, radio and other media, there’s no escaping it.
In December of 2012, just a few months after they had been dating, Alex proposed to my sister. It was the first marriage that would be held for the Martinez family. There were some skeptics who thought Alex was just marrying my sister so he could become a legal citizen here in the United States. A horrible thought, to question someone’s love, but people will always be ignorant and inconsiderate. My grandfather refused to come to the wedding because he disapproved of Alex being an immigrant. In my heart, I knew Alex had the right intentions with my sister. My sister and Alex were married in a wonderful ceremony. All four brothers attended, but additionally, my family was able to fly up the mother and father so they too could attend the wedding.
I remember the morning in September when the parents were due to arrive. They had never been to America, and had only heard what the brothers had told them. At three in the morning we traveled to JFK airport along with the brothers. I have never experienced a moment as touching as when the brothers were reunited with their parents. The mother and father rounded the corner looking completely shocked and overwhelmed, and Alex jumped over the security gates and ran to hug them. All of the brothers followed suit, with lots of tears, hugs, and smiles. For Alex, the toughest part of being an immigrant is not being able to see his parents. It had been fourteen years since Alex had been able to hug his father and kiss his mother. Of course, the brothers all have each other because they live close together, but the physical distance between them and their parents creates a void in each of their hearts.
I guess I’m writing about my brother-in-law because to me, he isn’t really an in-law. He’s part of my family, and is mi hermano. His story and his background have become part of my life, and it has impacted my life in several ways. After hearing how he lived in Honduras it inspired me for what I want to do in life. I hope to develop education curriculums and schools in Central American countries stricken with poverty, so they too have the same opportunities that we have here in America. Alex has demonstrated what it means to push past any limitations set on you. He was surrounded by people who looked down upon him and who judged him for not being able to speak English correctly. He had people who doubted his love for my sister and his intentions. He lives hundreds of miles away from his parents. But the fact of the matter is, he’s a wonderful person who followed his dreams, and in the end, isn’t that what we’re all trying to do?
