Go Ask Your Mother

Rosemary: I know. It hurt. Now, if we discuss it, I cry and say, "Stop!" It feels like somebody's taking a knife to cut my intestines.

Obaya: I've shed tears enough. I can't cry any more. I can't forget about it, but I'm trying to . . . I've had so many infections that the doctor told me that having a baby is going to be a very, very big problem . . . That will make me remember. That may, like, destroy me.

Rosemary: That one hurts me most . . . [Now], even though it's sometimes hard for us, it's much better. She calls me Auntie.

Obaya: Mama is hard for me. It's too big for my mouth. No, Auntie is better.

-- Interview by Brigid Schulte

Tomasa and Sandra Gomez

Tomasa Gomez, 53, immigrated from El Salvador in 1986 as a young woman pregnant with her first daughter. She now cleans offices in Washington. Sandra is 17 and has a 3-year-old daughter of her own, whom her mother is helping to raise. Sandra is a senior at Bell Multicultural High School in Northwest Washington and hopes to become an architect.

Sandra: How did you feel coming to the United States pregnant with your daughter?

Tomasa: [She begins to cry.] Look, I came to this country because the situation in El Salvador was so hard, Sandra. So I came for the future, the future of my children . . . I was brought by my [godmother], who was a resident of this country . . . When she gave me the [immigration] papers, she said to me: "Leave Mario, your child's father, because this man hits you a lot, he treats you terribly." My mother said: "Daughter, this

man, this boyfriend, is no good for you, daughter . . . You didn't listen to me, and you went out with him . . ." If I had stayed there, I would have suffered al-ways . . . But just as one suffers, daugh-ter, joy comes over time. Because eventually I found a good man, your dad. He's not your father, but he has raised you . . .

Sandra: What advice do you give me for raising my daughter?

Tomasa: [She ignores the question and begins to talk about Sandra's boyfriend.] He has dropped out of school. I'm old. I have lived my life, daughter. I know the kind of man who is good for you, and the type of man who isn't . . . A man can promise Heaven and Earth, but over time, his true colors come out . . . I don't want a man to mistreat you, daughter. Because you are the daughter of a mother, and your mother loves you, more than your husband will, more than anyone else in life.