If I got a nickel for every time someone asked me, “Where are you from?” I don’t think I would have any more problems with tuition payments here at NSU. But, come to think of it, it is a good question. Where am I from?
I always give a really long answer about my family lineage —“I’m Cuban but I was born in the US…” I can identify more with the Cuban culture, but I was born here, so what does that make me?
My name is Janelle Alexandra Alvarez, and I am a first-generation Hispanic-American.
I was born in Teaneck, New Jersey and moved to South Florida two weeks after I was born. I guess that makes me American, right? I grew up watching novelas (Spanish soap operas) with abuela (grandma), eating pastelitos (pastries), vaca frita (fried steak), arroz con pollo (rice and chicken), and, of course, lechon (roast pork) on every big holiday.
“Hoy o nunca, manana jamas. Mañana es una mentira piadosa.” (It’s now or never. The notion of tomorrow is nothing more than a foolish lie.) My grandmother used to tell me this all the time, and, ironically, I never found it relevant until long after she died.
It wasn’t until recently that I began to learn about my parents’ history — mom moved from Cuba to Spain at age 6; then to New York at 9. She’s petite, but, what she lacks in stature, she makes up for in character. Moving to this country at such a young age, and living with an alcoholic father in a not-so-trendy section of Manhattan, her only option was to be tough. She learned to speak English by watching American shows on the single television her family owned in their rodent-infested apartment.
My dad moved from Cuba to New Jersey at age 11. He was always surrounded by a large family in a not-so-large home. Needless to say, my parents rose up from all types of oppression: political, economic, psychological, and emotional. My mother suffered from harassment from college professors and my father worked numerous jobs just to put himself through school.
Despite all odds, both were the first in their families to escape the barriers–break the mold—and get a college education. This is my favorite quality about them.
“It’s now or never”— the expression I never stopped hearing growing up, and every day it seems to be more and more relevant.
When I don’t want to stay up to study for tomorrow’s Bio II exam; when I wait until the last minute to figure out how to pay my hearty outstanding balances at the end of each semester; when I’m stagnant and feel like I’ve lost every source of motivation – I look to my parents — two people who know what it is to have nothing and make so much out of so little.
I realize that my struggles are a grain of salt compared to what they went through– escaping a communist country with nothing but family and a vision, and yet with as much trouble as they went through to leave their country, their country never left them. Cuba is still alive in my grandfather’s stories, in my father’s “Scarface” accent (yes, he really does talk like Scarface…sort of), in my mother’s hand expressions when she dances or talks.
I’m a commuter at NSU. I live about 30 minutes away, 45 minutes on a bad day. Granted that’s nothing for some of you, but sometimes the traffic is enough to make me wish I lived on campus. And when I do start to think that way, I always stop myself. Where would the noise from the television come from? Who would be the one to walk into my room while I’m studying and say, “Mami, you want something to eat? I made picadillo!” like my mom does on occasion? Who’s going to bring up how good we have it, “because in Cuba we didn’t do this or that,” like my abuelo (grandpa) says every time someone complains?
When I was asked to write this segment, I was asked to write about me. But that’s the thing — my family is the biggest part of me. So when you ask me about who I am or where I’m from, I can’t just give you one word — it’s a bit more than that.
I’m loud by nature, tremendously agile on the dance floor, talk with my hands, and, when I’m feeling really passionate about something, I’ll throw an “¡AY DIOS MIO!” (Oh my God!) I enjoy rap music just like I can appreciate a good bolero. I’m complex. I’m multi-cultural. I’m a first generation Hispanic-American.
