As I was reading A House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros, I honestly felt like it was just a total reflection of my life. I could relate to everything she wrote and described in that book. Every single word and chapter she wrote, I could picture it in my head. She made me reminisce of my childhood. When I was little my parents would always play the lottery and will always tell me “don’t worry Mija (daughter) today we are going to win the millions, and we are going buy this big house, and you are going to have your room, and your mom is going to have her kitchen to cook on.” You see, my mom loves to cook her traditional Mexican food, and my dad always wanted to give her dad. So, when she talked about her house that came up to my head.
Another thing that came up to my head was the way that she said that she would wake up to her dad’s music in the morning. That was always my dad every weekend. I knew that we had to be up by 8 am if not, my dad’s music will still wake me up. The way described her neighborhood sounds just like the one I live on right now and my almost my whole life. This neighborhood seriously gives me life, and I wouldn’t change it for anything.
The stories that she used made me think about my whole life: the right things and the bad stuff. Sandra Cisnero did a great job portraying the lives of the Latino community and the minorities in general. Since I was little, my parents would always have family gatherings, and there would come this time it was still around midnight where all the grownups would start speaking about their life in America and how their life had changed. They would pour their heart out on how they left everything they had behind in their home country to come here to chase an American dream that wasn’t reachable. And how instead of having more here, they felt they had less because of how they treat them and live.
My mom once said that living in America was like living in a gold cage where you were trapped. She said that here in this country you can food, money, a beautiful house and everything you ever wished for but in exchange for something. She said that for us minorities, especially for the immigrants, we had to give up so much. First, we had to give up the chance of ever returning home to their loved ones because if she left, she wouldn’t be able to come back. Second, we would have to put our dignity aside. She said their would-be people who would try to strip us from our pride. They would look at us as we were aliens from another country, they would call us names, and they would treat us so differently until we gave up. Third and finally, they would mistreat us and would try to keep us at the bottom. I honestly think that Sandra Cisneros’ book A House on Mango Street gave us a glimpse of what my mom described as the golden cage.