You Sound Like a White Girl by Julissa Arce

Author:Julissa Arce
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Flatiron Books

The Cost of a Dream

My husband, Fernando, and I became first-time homeowners in early 2021. In some ways, this house is the perfect bow that neatly ties up my American dream. It’s proof that the dream is real and attainable. I am killing it.

Then I start thinking of the laws I’ve had to break. I reflect on all the manna that has fallen from above. If you don’t believe in miracles, let’s just call it luck. I cry when I think of the price I’ve had to pay for a healthy investment portfolio. For this house in one of the most expensive cities in the world. I wish I was certain it was all worth it.

My dad passed away in 2007. He lived in Mexico when I was still undocumented. If I got on a plane to be with him, to hold his hand as he took his last breath, I might not have been able to come back to the United States. I might have died trying to cross the desert like so many others. And even if I had a successful crossing, I’d be banned from applying to U.S. citizenship under current laws. So I stayed in my high-rise apartment in the Financial District.

I’ll never be able to share tacos de aguacate, queso fresco y chicharrón, menudo on a hungover Sunday, or a Tecate with my dad. There isn’t a day I don’t wish I would have taken a flight to be with my father. Job, money, and America be damned. I believed in the American dream, but I didn’t yet know how much it costs.

As my husband and I drove through South Los Angeles looking at houses, I thought about my mom. On a trip to Mexico a few months before, she told me she felt like a failure, because “What do I have to show for all the years I spent in the United States?” My parents didn’t get to buy a home here, and they left the one they were building in Mexico unfinished when they first immigrated.

As she told me of the pain she felt because she didn’t amass the fortune she dreamed of when she came to America, her eyes filled with tears, and though she would not release them, enough ran down my face for both of us. She said she was afraid of what would happen if she had let the tears flow.

I wish she felt what I feel. None of what I am, of what I have, would be possible without her. When I told her we were shopping for a house, she said, “Después de tanto sacrificio, te mereces eso y más.” I told her, “Después de tu sacrifico. Esta casa también es tu logro.” I remind her that the only reason I have what I have is because of everything she’s given me, and of everything she’s given up for herself.13

This beautiful craftsman-style bungalow with fresh green grass, which apart from the light blue fence looks like one

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