Josefina Maria de Tapia: Her Story

I was born in the city of Chihuahua, Mex. I was the eldest daughter of twelve brothers and sister and I played a major role in helping raised my siblings. My family lived on a small ranch just outside of the city. My father was a rancher and my mother a homemaker. Although we lived on a ranch I remember experiencing extreme poverty. At times we had no food or just the youngest of my siblings would have a meal. Lack of funds also affected our education because if we couldn’t pay for tuition, books or cloths we couldn’t attend classes. With no education, already living in poverty and a corrupt government, I knew I wouldn’t progress in Mexico. Having grown up in this environment all my life, I couldn’t help but wonder if something else was out there for me.

At the age of sixteen, I finally decided to embark on my journey to find an escape to the poverty I knew so well. I packed my bags and made my way to Nogales, Mexico.  After a ten hour bus ride north, I found myself in the small border town of Nogales, México. Luckily for me, I had friends that lived in this town and with their help I found employment as a babysitter for a middle aged couple. Unfortunately they had very bad-mannered children that terrified the previous sitters to stay but I was desperate for money, so I accepted the role.

One morning, I had to make my way to a local market to pick up some groceries for the family I was living with. This took place back in 1972, so the border was quite different then . As I walked along the “wall”, the actual boarder, I heard a struggle around some trees and bushes along with a man and a women’s voice. I leaned closer to see what was going on only to discover a huge hole in the wall that was apart of the border separating the US from Mexico.  The man that was struggling with the women (I assume it was his wife) look directly at me and without thinking I blurted “Can I go with you?” The man looked very angry and frustrated. His angrily reply, “Hurry! Hurry, Before they see us!”

Once crossing through the “wall” I saw one of the immigration vehicles coming toward us. So I ran I fast as my feet could carry me. I ran into one of the small tourist stores along the US side of the border. I peered out the window of the shop only to discover two officers parked outside. My heart was racing like never before.  I remember just waiting and they finally left. Once all was clear, I left he store and tried to blend in with the locals. After hours of walking around, I still had no clue what my next move would be. For years I had dream of making it to the US and finally I was here but with no were to go. I had little money; no belongings and no clue of were I would sleep that night. Nightfall came and I had nowhere to go. I remember sitting on the steps of a stair way to some old apartments when I heard a couple of young ladies taking about there business. They looked about my age, sixteen, and seemed very friendly. As they came near, they struck up a conversation with me. They spoke perfect Spanish but I could tell they were Mexican-American. Isabel was one of the girl’s names and she asked if I was Ok. By this time I was too exhausted to be scare and I confided in her. I told her what I had just gone through. She offered me a place to sleep at her home and assured me that her parents would understand. I accepted the invitation.

I was welcomed into her home by her family with open arms. After they had a chance to get to know me, they asked me to stay with them and I did. I felt as if I was one of their daughters since Isabel and I were the same age. Although I was treated like family, I wasn’t. I longed for the family I left behind in Mexico. My family never heard from me again after I left Chihuahua to Nogales. For years they thought I was one of the many women were kidnapped and killed near Ciudad Juarez.  Candles were lit every year on my birthday in memory of my life but I was alive that entire time. I missed my mother, father and siblings but I had no way of letting them know I was alive. My loneliness eventually led to my decision to marry Fernando, a young man that was a friend of the family I was staying with. This decision was one of the biggest mistakes I would have to live with for the rest of my life.

Fernando was a Permanent Resident of the United States. He promised to take care of me and help me become legal after we married. Even though I wasn’t in love with Fernando, I felt like I didn’t have another choice but to marry him. What else did I have? I didn’t have a family anymore because they thought I was dead. I was here illegally with no possible hope of becoming legal on my own. I married Fernando after a six month long relationship and it practically happened overnight. One day he asked me to pack my bags and leave with him and I did, leaving my second family behind. We moved to Phoenix, Arizona and began our life of matrimony together. Once in Phoenix, things took a turn for the worse. Fernando was no longer the kind young man I once knew.  Our relationship became one that was filled with abuse and threats towards me by Fernando. Being that I was here illegally, I had no way of defending myself. I was scared of the police because Fernando said they would send me back. I couldn’t speak English and worst of all, I had no one.

Ten years and three children later, I was still in the abusive marriage with Fernando but now our American children became victim to his behavior. Throughout these ten years, I lived in fear. I was afraid of Fernando but worst of all I was terrified of being deported back to Mexico and losing my children. My heart ached for my children because they had to go through a lot since I was too scared to call the police when Fernando would become abusive. But what could I do? He would say,” You have no rights, you’re nothing here” and “the police will just send you back” . I had no other options but to live with his threats. At this point in my life, I felt like my soul was gone.

In 1986 I applied for Amnesty and was granted Permanent Residency. For the first time in ten years I felt alive. I had a voice now. I had rights and no one could take that from me, not even Fernando. With my new found status, I began to legally work two jobs. I cleaned hotels during the day and cleaned offices at night. After I had enough money saved up, I left Fernando and took my three sons with me. He committed suicide a couple of years later.

I have never spoken of the pain I carried in my heart during these years. There is no greater pain in the world then not to be able to protect your children and because I was here illegally I felt I couldn’t.  No one ever knew of the pain I carried in my heart. My boys are all grown now and although they understand why I couldn’t fully protect them, they haven not forgotten all the pain they had to endure and that is something I have to live with every day of my life. I know they forgive me, but I still live with regrets. I hate to think what may have happened if I never became legal. How far would the abuse have gone?  I know that there are many women that find themselves in these types of situations. I pray to god that they may one day free themselves of this type of abuse.

  I have been a legal Permanent Resident for twenty years and I have accomplished a lot. I was able to contact my family back in Mexico after twelve years of them believing I was dead. I now maintain communication with them and visit them frequently along with sending them money.  I have raised my children as a single parent, own my home and have been a proud law abiding citizen but the struggle still goes on. Even though I am legal, I am still face discrimination because of my race especially with all the current events with immigration. I work in a warehouse now and there have been many times I have witnessed superiors treat co-worker that are also minorities different from the American or “white” workers. I confronted one of the supervisors about the mistreatment. I said to him, “Hey, why do you make us [minorities] work harder and you don’t make the others [white co-workers] work as hard?”. He replied by saying,” because you guys [minority workers] can handle it”. I was outraged but he was right. We are treated like animal because we have been treated this way since the 1900’s. It’s makes me mad, but what can I do? The only thing I can do is continue to speak up and make my voice herd.

I have been here for over 34 years. My life is in the United States and I have no intention of permanently moving back to Mexico. I feel like I have embraced the culture in the US and I truly feel Americanized.  This summer I plan on applying for Citizenship to further demonstrate my loyalty to the US. I am confident I will succeed.  

 The Final Thought