This spring, UCSB’s Humanities and Fine Arts Division hosted a creativity contest to highlight the work of creative student across the UCSB campus. The following creative nonfiction essay won First Place in the prose category.
Who Would You Be Without Me?
BY MAYA KAPOOR
There are two versions of every person in my life: the one I know and the one I dream for. The one who loses and the one who wins, even if that means I live a life without knowing them. Life doesn’t always work out for others. But I dream of a life for the ones I wish could have amounted to more. In every reality, I believe their souls remain true to who I know them to be: caring, hardworking, and giving individuals. I simply challenge the idea of what could have been, if life had taken a different route, even if it means our paths would not have crossed. And to let them go is the greatest act of love that their woman-ness has taught me.
My family is made up of a matriarchy of strong immigrant women from Mexico. Alongside my sisters and cousins, we are the first generation of women in America. Our mothers were robbed of their rewards upon arriving in the U.S. They hoped for better for their daughters. Being the youngest of my generation meant observing all the women around me navigate through their struggles. It also meant being burdened with responsibility for the safety and sanctuary of my family, even as a child. I watched my older primas (cousins) and hermanas (sisters) become like our mothers, as many fell victim to bad habits, domestic abuse, and unhealthy relationships. Financial burdens and systemic barriers took advantage of my women. Men took advantage of my women. I know the women who raised me could have had more, so here I write a new narrative for them. Here, I give them a life of their own, separate from the identity determined for them by the men who have hurt them.
As a child, I felt responsible for my mother, as if everything I did was to please her. Even when she did not put me first, I still felt the need to protect her. It was difficult to become a parent so young, a parent to my parent. When she married a cruel man, I felt betrayed as she failed to consider how the dynamic would affect me. I learned to stop centering my life around her and regained trust in myself. I am not trying to villainize my mother, but I have grown more aware of the circumstances I was placed into due to her negligence. And I still love her, despite it hurting me at times. In a family plagued by narcissism, I found the will to fight back with love. So here, I can write about the life I dream for my mother.
My mother, Rosalina, arrived in the U.S. at 18 years old. There was no stopping her from leaving Mexico. Fleeing her father’s wrath, she arrived in 1988 in California with her sisters. In another reality, Rosalina never had kids. Even someone as nurturing as her knew she did not have it in her to be a mother. She knew it was unfair to her future children to live a life of instability, further plagued by the generational trauma she carried. She knew she did not have the patience or emotional capacity to raise children. Instead, she worked several jobs and built connections in her community. She remained in touch with her indigenous Yaqui roots and saved up to begin her citizenship process along with her sisters. They worked together and made sure each other never grew hungry or hopeless.
In this version, Rosalina never went out that night when her friend invited her to a party. Therefore, Rosalina never meets my father, who made her dependent and brought her into a secretive life as a mistress. This Rosalina was never one to hide and let a man make her feel undeserving. Rosalina never drowned herself in alcohol in order to cope with my father leaving, and the death of her brothers, nephews, and father. Rosalina did not let her deceased father’s disappointment drive her success either. Rosalina never married. She refused to let a man take her from her family. She de-centered men from her life entirely and worked for herself. She remained close with her family and lived in her dream home with animals to tend to and a garden. Unlike the empty, big house she resides in, my reality makes her casita full of light and warmth. And her soul is the source.
In this other reality, her family had enough money so she could finish high school. She continued to run in track and field even after her arrival in the U.S. She was given scholarships for her skills, which opened up economic opportunities. Maybe she would have become a restaurant owner where the meals I love were loved by customers. Maybe she was a seamstress who could sew and tailor anything with hardly any material. She could have used her creativity and continued to sketch and paint like she had in my childhood home. I hope she still dances and sings her mariachi for the whole street to hear. She made time to become educated and found herself in a place where she could travel without any responsibilities.
Imagining another life for her, especially without me in it, means I never get to figure out where she ended up. She had so many options and routes to explore. I like to hope she lived a long life with great friends and eventually got to visit her mother and family in Mexico. Maybe she became an educator or a nurse, a person who had to be hospitable and responsible. Wherever she is, I hope she is happy and free, lying on a beach somewhere under a shaded tree. If Rosalina had had the chance to be the woman she wanted to be, I would not exist. But at least she would have lived a healed life. And if she had chosen to be a mother, I hope it would have been her choice, with a great man, and a stable life to bring them into. And I hope she did everything to show love to her child and make them feel safe.
Maya Kapoor is a third-year UCSB student majoring in Sociology.
In honor of National Women’s Day, I chose to rewrite the life of a woman who has built me into who I am, someone independent and career-driven. That is not meant to dismiss her achievements or deem her unsuccessful, but I want to consider what her life would have looked like if she had chosen a different path. She has had to become independent and strong because of the men who have failed her. Her father and male romantic partners made her into a strong woman through necessity. But it has taught me that womanhood is not determined by marital status or motherhood. It is a type of love so powerful, unreplicatable, and pure. It is the act of putting others first, even when it creates inconvenience for oneself.
I cannot love someone for their potential. I have to accept the real version of them in this physical world. I am grateful to have known this version of her because it made her the strong woman she is today, and myself as a result. I wanted more for her, but it brings me comfort to know that in a different timeline, paradigm, or life, she might just have it all. All that I ever dreamt for her. I hope by re-writing her story, I manifest the life she deserves.