I was born in the US and have lived here all my life, but still feel like a part of me has always belonged in El Salvador. For me, El Salvador was never an exotic vacation spot or just a trip to visit family, but a home almost as important as the ones I have had in the United States. I always felt welcome and at peace with my family in El Salvador. Growing up, my parents would take my brother and I to El Salvador for weeks or months at a time. Although technically a “vacation,” I felt as though I was continuing with a different life of mine, one that seemed so different to the one I had in the United States. Every visit has seemed like an attempt to cram a year (or more) worth of work and experiences into a week or month, depending on the trip’s length. Each time I traveled to El Salvador felt like a continuation of where I had left off during my previous trip. Whether I was in El Salvador or the US, I always felt like my life was incomplete, that I was caught in this space between two worlds. And yet I would never change a thing, as I have always been proud to have one foot in each culture.
These sentiments did not just randomly appear. My parents have had a lot to do with the sincere emotions I have always felt for a place located thousands of miles away from my homes in the states (in NJ, MA, and now in TX). My parents made sure that my brother and I understood where we came from. Taking us to their hometowns in El Salvador was one way they did so. Unlike vacations that most people might take to resorts or other types of “relaxation” spots, my time in El Salvador was always spent working with nature. At any given time, we would be vaccinating cattle, rebuilding fences, milking cows, or planting corn. This work provided me a glimpse of what life might have been like for my parents growing up, as well as, for my brother and me if we had grown up there.
More than anything, I can attest to the power of their storytelling. My parents held me captive to the tales they wove about their lives. They would talk to us about growing up in a poor household, where they were always working and trying to make ends meet. I teared up when I heard about the struggles they had to overcome and grew furious listening to the injustices they had to suffer. They helped me recognize how fortunate I was to grow up in such a carefree home. My worries extended no further than the homework assignments that I had for class the next day. This was a far cry from the work-filled days that occupied my parents’ lives beginning in their early childhood.
Looking back at my upbringing has helped me realize that the term ‘American’ can take a variety of forms. Throughout my life, my parents have raised me as an American through their actions, such as closely following the United States men’s soccer team or the progress of the United States during the Olympics. At the same time, they’d be up to date on Salvadoran current events by watching the news or talking to relatives. My meals would consist of cheeseburgers one night and Salvadoran pupusas (a typical Salvadoran dish) another. Whether they were aware of it or not, they showed me that you did not have to give up one identity to take up another. I could be proud to call myself an American and a Salvadoran.
(The image above is of a number of family members and myself on one of my last trips there, years ago)
