Heartbroken

When I was growing up, my mom chose for me and my brothers to not learn Spanish.  Even though she had a hard time learning English herself, she always felt that things would be "easier" on us if we spoke the language in the country that we live in.  She always mentioned how she never wanted us to face discrimination like her family did when they first moved in this country.  My grandfather would come to the States for work since conditions in Guatemala were awful due to the guerrilla movement.  People would barricade themselves in their neighborhoods in fear of being killed.  He knew he would not be able to raise a family there under constant fear.  As he would travel back and forth, he prepared their papers in the process.  One day, my mom hopped on a plane, never to go back to her country.
One of the reasons my mom never went back to Guatemala was because of how hard it was for her to leave there in the first place.  She was 15 years old at the time and lost everything she knew about "life" in that moment.  Her friends, her school.  She begged my grandfather to leaver her behind, and stay with other relatives, but he did not budge.  They came to Chicago and have been here ever since. 
My mom married when she was 21 to my dad whose family is from Puerto Rico.  Even though they both spoke Spanish, they are from two entirely different cultures.  Their differences is what ultimately led to their divorce 10 years later.  My mom struggled to get back on her feet.  My dad?  He basically disappeared out of our lives until we reunited with him as adults.  I never understood what were his reasons for not being present, but the main focus was that he was back and that we should forgive his actions. 
The one thing my mom made clear to us was how difficult it was for her and her brother and sisters to assimilate here in the States.  I know this to be true because they do not have many friends in general.  They mostly stuck together and kept the family close.  Even now as they're entering their elder years, they still live within blocks of one another. 
As for me growing up and not knowing my language gave off a different impression on me.  My peers couldn't understand why my mom did not teach us.   The label "whitewashed" would sometimes be used.  It was conflicting because it gave into the reasoning that I was trying to be something that I'm not.  The funny thing was I figured I was no different than other Americans whose family came from other countries but did not speak their language.  People who were 2nd generation and could showcase their roots yet hold on to their American identity.  I was under the impression of America's "melting pot", a nation filled with different cultures from all over the world, looking for a "better world."
I found myself confused on how I was suppose to act or be.  I was somewhat conflicted about my upbringing at home, the mannerisms that I was taught by my mom, and the American culture.  Even though my mom insisted for us to be American, she would also contradict those beliefs on what we should be doing.  We grew up in the inner city of Chicago, along with other minorities.  Our grammar school was in a gay community.  My friends were people of all color and race.  Yet we were told to come home and keep to ourselves.  It was a hard thing to do considering they looked like me and had the same problems as me.  Single parent household with a dash of unsupervised upbringing.  I know my mom could not be around because she started to work two jobs after my dad left to catch up on the rent and bills.  Something was not adding up.
Me and my brothers struggled in high school.  Because of that we also struggled in college as well, with both me and my younger brother only having a few years in of college, and not obtaining our degree.  My other brother did obtain his masters degree but is currently living in the basement apartment of my Dad's house due to outstanding student loans.  We did not turn out the way my mom would have wanted, which was suppose to be successful Americans thriving in this world.
Instead we're hard working Americans that tried our best to "fit in" and be accepted.  No matter what people may think, not having a sense of belonging can make you feel inferior and cause lack of confidence.  It dawned on me as I witness my mom trying to be on her own for the first time, along with my other family members who quietly go to and from work, how they never made this country a place they can call home.  It's simply a place where they have lived all their lives.
It's no secret that many have considered Chicago to be one of the most segregated cities, but it's no different than any other city in the U.S which emphasizes how race divides our way of life.  Drive further out to the suburbs of Chicago and you can see how things change again, with a predominantly lack of presence in minorities.  Yet during my time as an adult and as I've gotten older, my encounters with people from all over gave me an insight on how wonderful diversity really is.  I've learned so much and also concluded that in the end, we all pretty much want the same things in life.  To love, live, and prosper in this wonderful country of ours.
Or so I thought.  Once this election began, I remember hearing candidates say how would they change the policies of this country in order to make it thrive.  One candidate in particular kept voicing his opinions.  As crazy as it would come off, I always assumed our American citizens would recognize such hateful comments and brush it aside and continue to pursue a more peaceful approach to bring unity with one another.
I cannot stress how upset I am over what has happened in this election.  I am once again, confused on where I belong.  This place does not feel home to me anymore.  I have many friends who will be affected during this presidency.  I care about them deeply.  To not feel heard as an American citizen is the most hurtful feeling you can imagine.  I will pray for the "misplaced" like myself who will try to find a way to live in a country where they are not valued.