As a child, I always found my mother to be extremely tough and impatient. I never quite understood how people could stress themselves so much, they begin to reach their breaking point. I have grown up hearing my mother crying in the bathroom shower from people who criticized and have taken advantage of her. Her story begins in Oaxaca, Mexico. Her mother was a strong and independent woman who had to take care of two children all by herself when her husband was murdered. She spent more hours working than with her own children. At one point, she knew she needed the help of her mother to take care of my mom and uncle. Latinos tend to favor a male son in comparison to a female. My mom was abused physically by her grandmother because she saw her granddaughter as an imbecile compared to her wonderful grandson. Fast forward to the point where my mom (Irma) turned 15 years old, whom immigrated to California with her aunt. Irma had to learn at a young age that she had to work for what she wanted, in order to be able to survive. She was able to do so as a nanny, house keeper, and an assistant. She later on married my dad, who took advantage of her, physically and emotionally. Although I was not born at this time, I’ve grown up hearing horrible stories about the brutal beatings my mom went through, all because she wanted to avoid her children being hurt at such a young age, just like she experienced growing up. For those asking themselves, why didn’t she just leave? I’ve asked her the same question for years, my father followed her wherever she went. He was great friends with the police in the area they lived in. Years of torments and being ridiculed all so she could say that her children had a father, unlike her. Throughout those years, my father never helped her get her papers, he knew that she would escape him, so instead he kept her as his own prisoner whom he enjoyed tormenting mentally. The story till this day is still unclear as to how she was able to separate from him but, she was lucky to work for a family who helped her get her papers, taught her English and how to be able to handle her money in order to buy herself a home. This is where I come to play in the story, she gave birth to me at the age of 40 years old. By this time, her main motive was to start anew and raise a child in the house she bought by herself. Surprise, surprise, she was able to do so, thanks to her bosses who taught her how to save her money responsibly. It’s been over 22 years, we still live in the same house she fought so hard to have. Since then, my mom became one of the first construction workers at her school, while being a caring nanny.