“I am wise in this small respect: I do not think I know what I do not.”
Socrates

It has been a while since I addressed what is, after all, one of the major themes of my fiction and this blog — my relationship with religion. This probably reflects my reluctance, even fear, to address a topic known to raise the hackles of many.

I am also aware of a curious phenomenon, which is that my readers span a startling range of religious belief, from avowed atheists to passionate evangelizers. I sometimes wonder why that is and speculate that perhaps they share or at least respect my impulse to create a big tent under which a veritable bazaar of religious beliefs and disbeliefs can exist.

As stated in my earlier My Religious Primer post: “Except when they resort to violence and excessive proselytizing, I deeply respect the attempt of most religions to seek coherence and order in a world that intrinsically may be incoherent and chaotic.”

To this I add that I find the same impulse in nonreligious people as well. You won’t find religions bashed in this blog. Nor will you find proselytizing for any religion or for atheism. I am as prone to cite a Buddhist text as I am to mention a Bible verse or a scientist’s aloof statement regarding matters of the spirit.

But, other than respecting people’s individual choices, what do I believe? In one sense, the totality of this blog describes it. I believe we all follow a deep yearning to be free, to be whole, to live in joy and in safety.

I like to hope that we could all love each other even as we don’t know each other. In the end, I believe life is both blessing and mystery.

If that seems childlike, perhaps it is. In one of my novels, there is a tropical scene which inspired this blog’s waterfall images. In it, the infant protagonist escapes her mother’s attention and wanders off to a nearby waterfall. The child’s impressions come close to describing my own awe when faced with the numinous dimension.

“She stumbled her way toward the boulder which had a flat ledge about 14 inches off the ground. She scrambled up on the ledge and inched forward on her chest until she discovered below her a stream leading away from a gentle waterfall on her left to another one about 20 feet to her right.

“The air was now so misty it seemed almost iridescent. Even with the nearby rush of falling water, she could still hear birds twittering and the call of a coquí. She slid forward to dip her hand in the stream’s water and slipped.

Grabbing the edges of the narrow ledge, she managed to keep from falling into the stream .… Fully covered in mud, she looked around her at the dense green vegetation blurred by mist. She no longer felt afraid. The sounds around her were so soft …. The palm trees, the ferns, the moss-covered pebbles all seemed to glisten, and she felt as if a delicate presence expanded and contracted and wrapped itself around her. ”

I embrace the essential Mystery at the core of existence which perhaps only a child can experience without fear. I try mightily not to reduce that Mystery to doctrine.

When Socrates says, “I do not think I know what I do not,” that is the extent of the religious wisdom I claim.

Judith Mercado is an acclaimed Puerto Rican novelist and short story writer.  She also writes her own blog “Pilgrim Soul.”

Jacob Riis

The other night I caught one of my favorite movies, “Gangs of New York,” on TV. Though I own the film, there is always something satisfying about finding a favorite while flipping through channels.

Watching the final riot scene I started to wonder how much of the story was fact and how much was fiction. A long journey down the Google hole dropped me in the lap of one Jacob Riis and the Muckrakers of the Gilded Age.

What does this have to do with the Immigration Project? For one, Jacob Riis was a Danish immigrant, and two, he used photography and journalism to bring about social reform to the immigrant tenements and slums–such as Gangs of New York’s Five Points–of Victorian New York City.

Here are some examples of his work:

Riis’ photography, magical lantern shows, and books including, “How the Other Half Lives,” brought the struggle of the poor to the attentions of the upper class and people in power, namely New York City Police Commissioner, Theodore Roosevelt (newly discovered as my favorite U.S. President).  Roosevelt and Riis’ time together lead to a life long friendship and partnership in working towards social reform.

If Jacob Riis was alive now, he may have a blog. If he could see our modern world he may wonder what had changed, if anything. Today, is not much different from his day.

There is still a hugely unequal distribution of wealth, the upper class continues to give a blind eye to the struggles of the poor, and the middle and lower classes blame immigrants for the poor state of the job market, housing, and wealth.

And so we as artists must ask, WWJD? What would Jacob do?

We must rake the muck!

Xochitl-Julisa Bermejo is a Los Angeles native and Chicana writer, by whom she and others refer to as part of the Splinter Generation.    She is currently the author of two blogs, The Immigration Project and If I Had a Blog.

Don’t you just love it when someone tells you (usually a language instructor) how much you already know of the particular language you are trying so desperately  to learn?…….So here is me:

“Really? I was not aware that I already  knew  Korean?…….or “I guess I always knew that I knew some sign language?”…….”Like this one?”………Ooooooooooh come now have a little fun…………

Okay so back to this “very serious topic”………..Perhaps “recognizing the fact that you may already know some Spanish;  is probably the most “crucial” component of this exercise. So without further ado here are some ejemplos/examples:

A) pronto (prohn-toh)= right away/soon
B) conclusión (kohn-clue-see-ohne)=yup, you guessed it– “conclusion”
C) invención (in-vehn-see-ohne)= yup, “invention”

And so on…………

However…….You knew there would be a “however” here somewhere……..The trouble  begins in the “World of Words” (no not the “War of the Worlds” from Steven Spielberg with  Tom Cruise, they  had nothing to do with this one)………..Here goes that story:

Courtesy of Wikipedia……….
False friends (or faux amis, French for “false friends”) are pairs of words in two languages or dialects (or letters in two alphabets) that look or sound similar, but (big but here) differ in meaning. .

Here are my Ejemplos/Examples:

A) Actual= same spelling in English NOT same meaning in Spanish

In Spanish=  “actual” means current, this day, this moment……You get the idea…….So when you say in English: “The actual name given to that State was……… in Spanish you are saying: “The name given today or up this date is”………

B) My personal “favorita”/favorite is: “embarazada” (to be with child)……..Oh yeah this is a fun one! So here goes this story………..

As you may or may not know “embarrassed” in English means NOT pregnant but ashamed or encumbered…….

Now in Spanish the problem begins with the fact that “embarazada” is the adjective that comes from the same root as the English word but (a big but here) nowadays or “actualmente”  (this vocabulary word evolved a bit over time) it is exclusively used to mean “with child”, pregnant, “preggos”, “bun in the oven” and so on………..

My mama refers to this stage in life of pregnancy  as: “the walking incubator”….. isn’t that romantic?…….Ahhhhhhhh………

More later……..

An anecdote:

I knew this lady from Perú who was here in the US for sometime while she learned English. One say she came home from church telling how nice EVERYONE at the church was. How all of them shook her hand and welcomed her to the church…….I thought: “Wow I know no one at that church, and I have been living around here since grade school.” The next Sunday came and went and again my Latina pal  came telling me how delightful everyone had been and not just to her but with one another……”Hmmmh?” I thought to myself.

The following Sunday I decided to go with my Peruvian friend to this “wonderful new” church…….

Well we got to the church and everything seemed as normal as one would expect at a church……..We sat down listened, stood up, sat down , you get the idea…….. Then my friend looks at me and says: “Okay here it comes” she says, “This is the time when we all greet one another”………..

Then  it began: “Pleased to meet you”, as my friend shook everyone hands who she could reach and then some………

As we left the church I burst out laughing. My friend asked why I was laughing so crazily after church; my whole body went into convulsions. “Well”, I said trying to be serious, “These folks are not telling you “nice to meet you”. To which my friend replied in her Latina accent: “No?’………I replied: “No”, and tried to continue  with a straight face.

“What these folks  are actually telling you is: “Peace be with you!”, “Not”, I continue, “Pleased to meet you”…….  Then we both burst out laughing…

Ahhhhhhhh that was a fun day!

Carolina Sanchez is a bilingual instructor, translator and interpreter.  Sanchez is also the author of the blog “Confessions of a Wise Latina.”

The language purists among you may not want to read further as you might be scandalized. I am proposing that for those of us who are bilingual, speaking in both languages within the same conversation is not only acceptable but also may be the most optimal way to communicate.

On the phone with my cousin the other day, we found ourselves speaking at different times in Spanish; at other times, in English. We would complete two or three sentences in one language and then follow with two or three in the other.

Only after shifting to the other language would I suddenly become aware of the shift. The transition had been that seamless and unconscious.

It was a fun conversation. It was as if my cousin and I shared a private code which freed us to be natural with each other. We didn’t have to confine ourselves to a given language box. Indeed, one of the reasons speaking that way is so rewarding is that it is the only time I can reflect fully in my speech my specific life story.

I came to the United States from Puerto Rico at a very young age, after which I spoke only Spanish at home and in church, while at school I only spoke English. The two tracks remained essentially parallel, and to a large extent, except in conversations like the one with my cousin, they remain so today.

I am not proposing that we stop honoring the syntax of each language when in a monolingual setting. I believe in mastering the grammar and vocabulary of each language, and it is only polite to be place appropriate.

Though I am sometimes guilty of this, I also try to avoid a language shift within the same sentence. However, when two people fluent in the same languages are conversing, why not take advantage of the greater supply of vocabulary and grammatical structures available?

Literature will inevitably reflect this. One of the things I found appealing about the Pulitzer-Prize-winning “The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao” by Junot Díaz was his seamless incorporation of different languages and styles of speech: colloquial versus learned diction, English versus Spanish, science fiction/comic book language versus regular English. Díaz seemed to recognize that language can no longer be defined by the classroom.

It is a lived language. In our increasingly culturally fungible world, this will likely result in more variety and freedom in our modes of expression. At least I hope so.

Judith Mercado is an acclaimed Puerto Rican novelist and short story writer.  She also has her own blog “Pilgrim Soul.“

I remember I cried the first time I heard the term “anchor baby.” Maybe about three years ago, I was flipping channels and landed on an alarmist report being featured on CNN.

It was all about how “illegals” were sneaking into the U.S. and having children in order to have a foothold in our welfare system. Flashing on the bottom of the screen was a headline that read something along the lines of “How Anchor Babies Are Ruining America.”

There was just so much wrong with that entire report. Let’s face it. I would expect something like that from Fox News. But up until then I had trusted CNN so I knew that people out there watching this report would most likely believe it. On top of that, it was the first time I was hearing this slur for American citizens born to undocumented immigrants. I was devastated.

The report made it sound as if greedy immigrants somewhere out there were plotting to have children they didn’t even want in order to scam the government and to become citizens themselves.  It made it sound like “illegals,” another slur, didn’t have a conscience and were a direct threat to the tax dollars of those viewing the report. All in a thirty second package, CNN had managed to legitimize hurtful slurs and stereotypes and pass them off as a credible threat. I will never forget that “report.”

I cried because I am an American, and it felt like fellow Americans were trying to deny my legitimacy to that title. Sure, sometimes I don’t like being an American. There are many things this country does that are shameful. But like it or not, this is the country where I was born. It felt like I had been personally attacked.

It was three years ago that I applied for my parents to get their residency. It had been a long struggle for my parents. They had tried all other possible avenues to legitimize their status. It wasn’t until I turned 21 that I was legally old enough to put in an application for them-not exactly the get rich quick scheme that the term “anchor baby” implies.

So I could continue to see the term “anchor baby” as a personal attack. I could get caught up in my anger at the right wing racism and try to defend my parents, pointing out how they never used my privilege as a citizen to get welfare and how they have paid their taxes while working. I could bring up how it is just as erroneous to assume a majority of immigrants have babies in the U.S. to get welfare benefits as it is for Gov. Jan Brewer to claim that the majority of immigrants crossing the border are drug mules.

I could even make the claim that if there ARE any immigrants out there systematically benefiting from the welfare system, that means that there are plenty of American citizens who are doing the same. I could point out all these things in detail and at length and they would be true. But all that this would accomplish is to further legitimize the “anchor baby” argument.

Instead, let us deconstruct the term and look at it in context.

It was about three years ago that Elvira Arellano and the sanctuary movement first made headlines. She fought deportation by refusing to choose between leaving her son Saul Arellano, an American citizen in the U.S. or taking him to Mexico with her. She took sanctuary in Chicago’s Adalberto United Methodist Church and spoke out against the raids that were separating families.

The “anchor baby” argument is a direct attempt to vilify these same families Elvira Arellano and other organizers are advocating for.

It is difficult for any American to look on TV and see the weeping faces of children whose families are being torn apart. Making children suffer is wrong. It is a basic human instinct to want to protect them. On top of that, realizing that these children are American citizens means that American children are suffering. The term “anchor baby” is meant to short circuit this realization. It seeks to invalidate their claims to American identity, as well as to humanity.

Over the past decade, America has developed a long trend of dehumanizing certain groups with labels such as “terrorist,” “insurgent,” “enemy combatant,” and “illegals” in order to simplify complex human and legal interactions for the media. “Anchor baby” is no different. It turns an image of a weeping child, deserving of our help into that of a veiled threat, a literal anchor keeping dangerous invaders within our borders and supposedly draining our funds.

It’s pathetic, but this hateful use of stereotypes, regardless of reality, is the argument that the right wing wants to use to side step the legal rights of American citizens and their families.

And leave it to Arizona to lead the way in trampling the Constitution. Basing its arguments on the anchor baby myth, Arizona officials are claiming that allowing the children of illegal aliens to claim citizenship is a misapplication of the 14^th Amendment that grants citizenship on the basis of being born on American soil.

It is once again ignoring the division of federal and state power in its proposal to pass a law denying citizenship to the children who don’t have at least one parent who is a citizenship.  This is despite the fact that the 14^th Amendment clearly reads that “No State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States.” Way to go Arizona.

Essentially Arizonans are angry because upon reaching the age of 21, “anchor babies” can make their parents citizens. Well, Arizona, remember how you’re all angry about people crossing into the country illegally? Well, this is a LEGAL pathway to citizenship. Clearly, Arizonans don’t care about the legality of our status—or even of their own actions.

They don’t want us here, period and will twist and turn their rhetoric any which way to justify their actions. The media is often right their to take extremists at their word.

This is why I advocate that we stop accepting the labels we have been given by the media. When I first heard the term “anchor baby” I cried—and crying certainly isn’t enough. For those of us who are American citizens, we need to very vocally reject this term as the racial slur that it is. (Same goes for “illegals”)  I suggest that if you hear or see the term “anchor baby” being taken seriously in broadcast or in print, you contact the station or write a letter to the editor repudiating their bias and racism.

Donate to the ACLU if you are able, since they are one of the plaintiffs suing Arizona over the draconian SB 1070. We cannot allow this national debate to be framed without us. We cannot allow ourselves and those we love to be dehumanized in this way. We are not “anchor babies,” we are American citizens—whether the racists like it or not.

Jenny Patiño is a student at Columbia College Chicago.

There are a lot of theories about how Latinas view feminism.

We’re pro-life, unless we’re too American.

Our men are full of machismo and make our decisions.

We reject feminism based on the movement being too white and too middle class.

This summer Veronica Arreola explores what it means to be a Latina and a feminist and she invites others to join her in this discussion.

To read the rest of  her post, go to Ms. Magazine’s blog. Please join her in the “Summer of Feminista.”

Image courtesy of morning theft under Creative Commons 3.0.

I don’t know any woman who would want to wear a nail polish named after the border city of Juarez.

Or what about makeup named “factory,” “Ghost Town” and “del Norte?”

Fashion bloggers like The Frisky first started buzzing about this controversial new makeup line by fashion label Rodarte and MAC cosmetics.

Kate and Laura Mulleavy, two sisters behind the Rodarte fashion line, are based in Southern California.

What’s even more shocking is that the sisters have Mexican heritage, according to Ezine. Their grandfather was from Zacatecas and he migrated to the United States during the Mexican Revolution.

I think they need to get in touch with the reality of contemporary Mexico.

More than 500 women have been murdered in the Mexican border city of Juarez since 1993. That city also has seen 1,500 people killed so far this year and 5,700 since 2008, largely a result of the drug war. The border city is full of maquiladoras, or factories where migrants, including many young women from other parts of Mexico try to eke out a living.

I don’t get how exploiting that is fashionable in any way. I’ve been to Juarez and I can tell you life there is not pretty.

Is making a few pesos working on an assembly line pretty?

Is worrying that some psycho or a band of them is out there murdering women fun?

Is leaving behind your family to make a living while living in a shanty town glamorous?

Rodarte and MAC have issued an apology. They said they are looking at ways to donate money to Juarez.

Lo siento is not enough. They should pull the cosmetics line set to launch this fall or if not we should boycott it.

I don’t know who in their right mind would buy it anyway.

The colors of the makeup are all apparently pale. Don’t see how that works for the complexion of most Mexican women or Latinas. Obviously, that’s not the market they want to reach with this makeup line.

And there’s a ridiculous ad campaign of a woman dressed in deathly white. She looks like some anorexic version of La Llorona.

It’s not cool to market death about a place where it is all too real. Even more offensive is that they are ignorantly romanticizing the murder and exploitation of women.

The Rodarte company issued this statement.

“Our makeup collaboration with MAC developed from inspirations on a road trip that we took in Texas last year, from El Paso to Marfa. The ethereal nature of this landscape influenced the creative development and desert palette of the collection. We are truly saddened about injustice in Juarez and it is a very important issue to us. The MAC collaboration was intended as a celebration of the beauty of the landscape and people in the areas that we travelled. ”

A road trip? Really?

Well they obviously just looked at the culture from the rear view window because any person with common sense would know the names they selected for their makeup are nonsensical. I would never associate “Juarez,” “Ghost Town,” “del Norte” or “factory” with an ethereal landscape and lipstick, nail polish or blush.

Wake up from your fashion fantasy to the real world ladies.

MAC issued this statement:

“We understand that product names in the MAC Rodarte collection have offended some of our consumers and fans. This was never our intent and we are very sorry. We are listening carefully to the comments posted and are grateful to those of you who have brought your concerns to the forefront of our attention. MAC will give a portion of the proceeds from the MAC Rodarte collection to help those in need in Juarez. We are diligently investigating the best way to do this. Please be assured that we will keep you posted on the details regarding our efforts. ”

Sounds to me like they are scrambling to find a solution. Donating some money is a nice idea but to who or what group or to the city itself? It also doesn’t excuse that they will still profit off the name of a city that is suffering. They also disrespect all the hard-working women of Juarez and the women who have lost their lives there.

As my mother would say these people are sin verguenza. They have no shame.

UPDATE: Temptalia has more recent statements that MAC and Rodarte are going to change some of the product names and donate $100,000 to an organization that helps women in Juarez. That is progress but the concept of the whole line that also includes the names “Badlands,” “Bordertown” and “Sleepwalker” is still offensive. The whole thing belongs in the basura.

Teresa Puente is a journalist and blogger. She is an assistant professor of journalism at Columbia College Chicago and is editor and publisher of Latina Voices.  Puente also writes the blog Chicanisima for Chicago Now, where this was originally published.

I am raising my daughter to be bilingual. You would think that since I am bilingual it would be easy. Well, guess what? It’s not easy at all.

You see I am the only Spanish speaker in my home and I have not lived in a predominantly Spanish speaking home since I was 18 years old.

I was born in the United States and I am bilingual because I was raised in a home where Spanish was spoken. I did not have a choice. I truly mastered English when I started school.

Nowadays, my English is much stronger than my Spanish. I was educated in English, I no longer live around my Spanish-speaking family and although I can use my Spanish during some day to day transactions it is just not woven into the fabric of my life the way it once was.

In order to teach my daughter Spanish, I have to make an effort to speak to her only in Spanish. This is particularly challenging when non-Spanish speakers like her dad are around. Sometimes it feels like a monumental task, but I know it is well worth it.

Spanish has given me so much. It has allowed me to communicate with family members in Mexico that only speak Spanish.

It has provided me with jobs I would not have gotten otherwise. I want my daughter to have those same opportunities.

Since my Spanish has atrophied, I find reading books to my daughter in Spanish to be a really helpful tool especially when they use words that I might not otherwise say to her. I do not find it all that easy to find children’s books in Spanish at the store or at the library, though.

Recently, I was contacted Sherrie A. Madia, Ph.D. and asked if I would be interested in reviewing, “Alphabet Woof,” a book she created with her two daughters.

Honestly, I was going to say no, until I saw that the book was offered in Spanish as, “Sopa de Guau!”  Then I was all over it.

“Alphabet Woof,” the book, is delightful. The illustrations are colorful and fun and the story has a little magical realism a la, “Like Water for Chocolate” going on.

I enjoyed it, but more importantly my daughter likes it and she gets to have a little more Spanish in her life because of it.

Unknown Mami is  a bilingual Latina mother, wife,and actor in my late 30s who lives with her husband and daughter, “Put Pie,” in San Francisco.  She has her own blog entitled “Unknown Mami.”

After reading my first Lamento Borincano post, a fellow blogger asked me to discuss what the general population should know about Puerto Rican culture.

I was about to whip up a response when I stopped to ask myself which Puerto Rican culture I would write about. At the moment, just as many Puerto Ricans live away from Puerto Rico as do on that beautiful Caribbean island.

Anyone born on the island is automatically a U.S. citizen. Many of us who self identify as Puerto Rican have actually never lived in Puerto Rico.

Some, like me, lived there for a time, but have spent the rest of our lives elsewhere. Some of us speak Spanish only. Others English only. Some speak both fluently. Others manage a hybrid Spanglish.

Some can comprehend both languages but speak only one. Some, like me while growing up, interacted in an English-speaking world away from home and a Spanish-speaking one at home.

To this already rich mix, I can add many permutations. All I have to do is overlay variables like historical time period, urban versus rural, religion, politics, age, socioeconomic class, intermarriage, skin color, and gender.

Given that, my first exploration of Puerto Rican culture is necessarily a definitional one.

Who is Puerto Rican?

The first thing I can say is, “We are surely a hybrid bunch.” Yet, that is not a satisfying answer.
Given our diversity, what leads some of us to self identify as Puerto Rican, particularly if we have never lived there? Are we Puerto Rican because our parents or grandparents were born there and/or we eat Puerto Rican food, celebrate Puerto Rican holidays, enjoy the music and dances, identify with the island’s history and the issue of its political status?

Conversely, what is it that leads others to identify us as Puerto Rican? Why, for example, was my green-eyed, fair-skinned father denied housing once the landlord realized papi was Puerto Rican?

I end with a promise that I will explore this complex issue in future posts. In the meantime, I really, really, really welcome comments any of you, Puerto Rican and not, have on the question: Who Is Puerto Rican?

I thought I knew what it meant to be Puerto Rican until I had to explain it to someone else so I need all the help I can get.

Judith Mercado is an acclaimed Puerto Rican novelist and short story writer.  She also has her own blog “Pilgrim Soul.”

Francisco at Easter Brunch, cleaning his plate

One hundred years ago this June, Sonora Smart Dodd arranged a tribute to her father who raised her and her five siblings on a farm in Spokane, Washington after their mother died in childbirth.  The idea took a while to catch on and didn’t become a national holiday until 1972 after President Richard Nixon signed it into law, declaring the third Sunday in June Father’s Day.

Even to this day, Father’s Day is not nearly celebrated as its better half–Mother’s Day.  Why, might you ask?  Well, 22 percent of white children in the United States don’t have any male figures in their homes, according to the National Center for Health Statistics.  And this number jumps to 31 percent for Latino children, and over 56 percent of African-American children.

Mexico, like the United States, honors fathers this year on June 20.  And this year, I celebrate my father, Francisco Jimenez, who have inspired me in ways he may not even realize.  My father, whom I lovingly refer to as “Pops,” possesses the attributes of what we commonly refer to as “salt of the Earth.”  He is unpretentious, hard-working and modest.

Born in Chicago, he spent his first five years in Little Italy but moved to Araro, Mexico, his family’s native homeland.  He returned to the United States in his late teens where he worked as a migrant worker in California and Chicago.

Soon after he met a young woman, Lupe Alfaro, who was attending the College of St. Francis in Joliet, Illinois.  He wooed her and became good friends with her entire family, which was no easy feat considering the fact she has 10 brothers and sisters.

The two married on November 30, 1974 and started their family, which grew to include myself and my three brothers, the next fall.  He was able to secure a job at Pepperidge Farm factory where he continues to work to this day.  He takes pride in his strong work ethic, and this extends to the work he does around our house.

To call him a neat freak would be still not come close to describing him.  He doesn’t stop cleaning until you can either see your face in the reflection or can run a white glove without picking up any dirt.

Of course, it isn’t all business for Pops.  His love of music propelled him to start a  local band, Los Superables, which became very successful locally.  He enjoys sports of all kinds especially when playoffs or tournaments roll around.  Just don’t get him going on the subject of boxing.

My brother Dami and Pops can debate and discuss ad nauseam every fighters’ handicaps and technical abilities.  And after work, on any given day, you can find Pops sitting in his deep mahogany leather recliner, pouring through the Chicago Sun-Times or Chicago Tribune from cover to cover.

What amazes me most about Pops is how he has faced his demons and come through on the other side.  He’s faced a demon that hits Latino men the highest, according to National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism.  Throughout my entire childhood, my father drank.  Drinking numbs the pain but creates a new set of problems.

I saw how it took him over to the point that he lost complete control.  It got to the point that I lost any hope I had and completely gave up.

But a little over 10 years ago, he hit bottom and began to turn his life around.  To this day, I don’t know how exactly he did it.  I know I wasn’t supportive of him anymore and didn’t help him.

He attended AA meetings but didn’t go though rehab.  Miraculously, he has never relapsed, whereas 40 to 60 percent relapse, according to the National Institute on Drug Abuse.

Pops has remained strong and honest about his experiences in a way I never witnessed throughout my formative years.  It’s not bravado but a silent strength that inspires me to challenge myself and push myself everyday.

Of course, my mother was a source of strength and support for him and for me.  So I have to give credit where credit is due.  I wouldn’t have graduated from law school or pursued a graduate degree in journalism without Pops.

His example shows how we can overcome obstacles with determination and hard work.  He was prevented from pursuing his own dreams, so it is our not only our right but our duty to make that happen for ourselves.

So, muchas gracias, Pops.

Angelica Jimenez is a graduate journalism student at Columbia College Chicago.