When my mother’s family entered the United States from Mexico around 1916 it was the last leg of a journey of over a thousand miles that began in the town of Sombrerete in the state of Zacatecas. José Sanchez and Remedios Sanchez y Cabrera crossed the border with one child, little five-year-old Flora. She was fortunate to have survived the arduous trek, her ten brothers and sisters died in Mexico from hunger and illness. Together with José's brother Tomás and sister Macrina they made their way to El Paso in an open wagon trying to avoid the war, sometimes waiting for weeks on end for battles to subside so they could safely travel again. Remedios recounted to my mother many years later that she witnessed bodies hanging from telephone poles along the road north.
What occurred in Mexico was the first full scale modern revolution. Farms, ranches and towns were destroyed. People became homeless, many starved and died. There was chaos, with several military factions fighting each other for control of the country. My family's only hope for safety was to reach El Paso through its sister city, Juarez.
El Paso seemed to hold promise as a place to work and raise a family. Remedios, whose parents had been merchants in Queretaro, hoped to have her own store there. Her husband José was a skilled blacksmith. Surely this busy town of commerce was the right place to be. Eventually, each of the Sanchez families decided to move elsewhere. Cousin Panfilo moved to Anthony in southern New Mexico where he did well as a farmer and land owner. Other family members continued on to California. José longed to find a smaller community to establish himself in business. He decided to move his family north, believing his prospects would be better in New Mexico. That decision led the family into the midst of some of the worst poverty in the United States. José moved around the state in search of work, which included stints as a miner. Remedios and the children went with him. It was not an easy life. In a remote mining camp at least one more child is known to have died.
Circling back south they stopped in the town of Belen. There they met the Gabaldons, an established family who befriended them and provided work for José. Their positions in life could not have been more different. The Gabaldons were land owners who had been in the area for generations. Gabaldon Road leading into Belen is named for them. Their roots were as deep as the long history of Hispanic New Mexico while the Sanchez family were landless refugees with little money, no prospects and no experience dealing with the Anglo American world. In bilingual El Paso the fact that they didn't speak English had not been a problem for the new immigrants. In Belen, the dominant language was English and as a result, José could only deal with the Hispanic world so his prospects for work were low. His children would have to cross this language barrier if they were to improve their lives in the United States.
Eventually José and Remedios were able to buy a vacant lot in Belen and with the help of neighbors they built a small adobe home. He established his blacksmithing business there and traveled throughout the area repairing farm equipment and building wrought iron fences. He was a likeable man and made friends easily. He played the violin and as he had done wherever he went, he started a band to perform at parties and cantinas. Unfortunately, José became a heavy drinker, particularly of homemade alcohol which was readily available. It led to mental instability and abuse of his family. His violence came to a head when he forced Remedios into his truck and drove her to a remote place on the mesas west of town where he tried to shoot her. The following week José was in such a deteriorated mental state that he was unable to speak or interact with anyone. After being evaluated by a local doctor my grandmother made the difficult decision to commit him to the state hospital in far off Las Vegas, New Mexico, where he remained until his death in the 1960s.
Everyone in the family was affected by this. Angelita was only ten when José was taken away. She missed her father and worried that he was alone in a strange world, far from the people he knew and loved. Her fears became haunting dreams of loss that were with her for years. José's brother Tomás never forgave Remedios for committing his brother. He refused to speak to her again although he maintained a connection to the family through his sister Macrina who was more understanding. But Remedios knew her decision was justified. The fate of her five children was in her hands, they were her life and she had to keep them safe.
Without her husband as the family provider Remedios now faced the question of how to make a living but not where to live. It was too dangerous to return to Mexico. All of her children but one were born in the United States. They would stay in Belen where they had a permanent home. The children could go to school, make friends and be part of the community. Considering José's wanderlust she felt fortunate that his mental breakdown hadn't happened in one of the mining camps.
Remedios wanted all five children to get high school diplomas but under such difficult conditions it wasn't possible. Flora, by then a teenager was already helping to support the family. Ventura who was the next oldest attended school but dropped out to do the same. Their sacrifices made it possible for the youngest children to stay in school. Angelita never forgot her family's support. She, her brother Genaro and younger sister Margarita earned their high school diplomas but Angelita never forgot those first years in Belen. The railroad industry brought a level of prosperity to Belen and the surrounding farming communities but the Sanchezes were not part of it. At school Angelita felt extremely self conscious, her impoverished appearance was in obvious contrast to the middle class and working class Hispanic and Anglo kids who attended with her. What's more, Spanish speaking students were punished if they spoke their native language on the school grounds, making school more fearful for her than educational.
Because of these traumatic experiences Angelita vowed her children would never go to school poorly dressed and that they would speak English. In light of this, her later decisions were justified. However, the result of not being bilingual meant my three brothers, sister and I could not communicate with our Spanish speaking family members, especially our grandparents whom we never got to know well.
Losing our native language meant we would be unable to navigate the Spanish speaking world, which not only included family but all of Hispanic New Mexico where there was immediate acceptance for those knowing Spanish. The forfeiture of our language, however, was made with our best interests in mind, as Mom knew them to be.