My Story

Shared by Melanie Cluley

I was raised in a large, tight-knit Puerto Rican family. My mother came to the United States when she was fourteen with her ten siblings. My grandmother immediately sent her three oldest sons to work in factories. The girls were taught cooking, cleaning and housekeeping, all the skills needed to be a good Puerto Rican wife. Forty years later, my maternal grandmother still does not speak English.

My father came to the United States when he was seven. He had three brothers and one sister, a relatively small family in Puerto Rico. When they arrived in the United States, also in search of the American Dream, my paternal grandparents learned English, both worked, and enrolled all of the children in Catholic school.They adored the Kennedys and modeled their own family after them.

For years, I have been referred to as the "white girl" by my maternal relatives. I "talk white," "dress white" and even the fact that my children eat baby carrots as snacks, is an indication of how I am "raising them white." They feel that I have turned by back on my heritage because it is not obvious to everyone that I am Puerto Rican at first glance.

I am a product of both of my parents' American Dreams. I am college educated, own my home, and have two children who eat rice and beans, pernir, and plantains. My American Dream is that we learn to accept ourselves and others without so much judgment. I am proud of my Hispanic heritage and embrace the traditions my mother's family holds dear, passing those I value most to my children. I do this while looking to the future and, like my father, cherishing the opportunities afforded me as an American, and providing the best possible life for myself and my family.

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