83 pages • 2 hours read
Erika L. SanchezI Am Not Your Perfect Mexican Daughter
Fiction | Novel | YA | Published in 2017A modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more. For select classroom titles, we also provide Teaching Guides with discussion and quiz questions to prompt student engagement.
Themes
Justified Lies and Secrets
The theme that drives the plot of the novel the most is that of lies and secrets, as Julia is intent on uncovering any truths about the sister she hardly knew. Finding Olga’s hidden belongings sets Julia off on a quest to uncover what else her seemingly perfect sister may have been hiding, and along the way, she discovers even more painful secrets about her parents.
When Julia learns of Olga’s years-long affair with Dr. Castillo—and even more troubling, that she was pregnant with his child—the revelation does not make Julia feel as vindicated as she had hoped. Her suspicions are validated, and she finally has confirmation that Olga was not nearly as perfect as everyone thought she was, but Julia cannot help but feel sorry for Olga, knowing that her sister put her entire life on hold for a delusional fantasy. Julia desperately wants to share this with her parents, in part because she resents being the only daughter constantly scrutinized, but also because she genuinely believes her parents deserve the truth. Ultimately, she cannot bring herself to tell Amá and Apa, because she knows their pain is not worth the satisfaction or relief it might bring her.
She carries the knowledge of Olga’s affair with her to Mexico, where Tia Fermina, Amá’s sister, cannot help but tell Julia of Amá’s traumatic border crossing. Julia had always known that Amá and Apa were robbed, but Fermina reveals that Amá was also raped while Apa was held at gunpoint. Julia quickly infers that Olga was not actually Apa’s biological daughter, but a result of Amá’s traumatic assault—a constant, living reminder of the violence they suffered. Though this massive secret only adds to Julia’s already heavy burden, which she grapples with constantly, the gravity of it puts into perspective the necessity to let some things go unspoken. Understandably, Amá and Apa kept the truth about their border crossing from their daughters to avoid inflicting any pain, and Julia realizes she must do the same with the truth about Olga.
When Julia asks herself hard questions—“Is it considered lying when you hold something locked up inside you? [...] Is it kind or selfish for me to keep this all to myself? Would it be messed up if I said it just so I don’t have to live with it alone?” (314)—she is realizing that there is, in fact, a place for ambiguity when it comes to lying. Sometimes, keeping a secret is an act of love and protection, which takes even greater strength than telling the truth.
Immigrant Identity and Fulfilling Cultural Expectations
Despite how much they all stress the singular importance of family, Julia hardly ever finds support or comfort among her traditional, critical, nosy relatives. Many of them have strict expectations of how a “good” Mexican child should behave, and Amá is not the only one who frequently compares Julia to Olga’s untarnished reputation. Julia, however, has zero interest in rubbing Apa’s feet after work, learning how to make tortillas, or becoming a housewife and mother—all the things a dutiful daughter would do. The novel’s title, I Am Not Your Perfect Mexican Daughter, is a message Julia is constantly reminded of, but also one she actively strives to project.
Julia finds many of her cultural traditions old-fashioned, outdated, and irrelevant, but it is through these upheld traditions that Julia’s family members are able to feel connected to their homes that were so painful to leave and retain a sense of identity when they had to start their lives over in America. Julia hates the idea of having a quinceañera (a traditional Latina coming-of-age ceremony) but is willing to go through the motions for the sake of appeasing her parents. Instead of embracing this opportunity to connect to her family and culture, she resents every minute of it, feeling disdain for all the symbolic rituals she must enact. The party goes smoothly, but Julia cannot help but argue with her judgmental Tia Milagros, and the festive night ends in an explosive argument at home: Apa calls Julia “cabrona,” and Amá suggests Julia is to blame for Olga’s death.
Amá begins to believe that “this country is ruining [Julia]” (162), given her lack of morals and respect. Even though Julia actively tries to distance herself from her family and the culture that bred their traditional ways of thinking, she finds herself in the unique position of being bicultural: not Mexican enough for her family to fully accept her, but too dark-skinned and poor to avoid discrimination in America. Her culture elicits feelings of deep shame and embarrassment because of these experiences, which fuel her depression and anxiety. Sánchez explains that many first-generation Americans “grow up struggling to reconcile two conflicting cultures,” and that being bicultural “sometimes leads to misunderstandings” within families (344). Only after her time in Mexico is Julia able to start reconciling these two parts of herself.
When Amá and Apa first suggest that a trip to Mexico might help Julia heal after her attempted suicide, Julia incredulously wonders how parents think “shipping their children back to the motherland [...] will solve anything” (227). However, once in Los Ojos, she realizes that the desert air, simple routines, and time spent with her adoring relatives there are good for her. Most importantly, Julia learns significant secrets about her parents, which reveal parts of them to her that otherwise would have gone unknown. She understands that Amá’s overprotective nature is a result of the trauma she experienced at the border, and that Apa gave up his dream of being an artist (a characteristic that parallels Julia’s own interests) to ensure a life for his family in America. Julia returns from Mexico knowing she will never be Olga, but more confident in her ability to mend her relationships with her family despite that.
Julia comes to understand the weight of the sacrifices so many of her family members have made to provide exponentially more opportunities for her generation. The sacrifices and trauma that have hardened her parents are also what afford her the privilege of choice and the chance to pursue her true dreams—a gift, Julia realizes by the end of the novel, that would be an absolute shame to waste. Though she never compromises on her personal values, Julia softens the callous defenses she had built up against her family, and this new understanding of her parents and the way their past experiences has shaped them helps her better appreciate her Mexican heritage—the place (and the people) she comes from.
Breaking the Cycle of Poverty
Julia’s daily choices (or lack thereof) are governed by her family’s poverty: their cockroach infested apartment rarely has any substantial food, Julia often has to decide on using her money for bus fare or a snack, and her walk home on any given day might be met with harassment or gunshots. She wants nothing more than to escape this environment in pursuit of a glamorous life as a famous writer, and her aspirations are the only things she clings to as she struggles to mentally stay afloat. In the beginning of the novel, she views her life as unfair and undeserved, believing she is “too good” for the cards she has been dealt, but eventually, she has to face the reality—and the impending possibility—that sometimes no amount of ambition or work can break the crushing cycle of poverty.
Though her relationship with Connor brings her joy, she is often reminded of the vast invisible wealth gap between them, which makes her uncomfortable, embarrassed, and anxious. He is genuine, kind, and treats her well, but she cannot help but resent that his house is as big as her entire apartment complex, and that he can jokingly throw away money for an ugly thrift store sweater while she barely has enough change for the train ride home. Their relationship, though it primarily is a positive thing in Julia’s life, serves as another reminder that some are inherently privileged, while others are inherently—and perpetually—at a massive disadvantage.
Her ambition and desire to leave is so overpowering that she does not consider the larger circumstances and systems that contribute to her family’s current situation; she only resents her parents for the meager and pitiful life they have created for themselves and Julia. When she visits her extended family in Mexico, she witnesses the level of poverty and violence in Los Ojos, which puts her own situation into perspective. Amá and Apa left Mexico for the same reasons Julia wants to leave Chicago—to break free of their current circumstances—in search of something better.
Julia sees college as her ticket out, but while working on her applications with Mr. Ingman, she feels uneasy about her parents’ undocumented status and immigration story. Julia grew up fearing immigration officers, eventually learning that her family’s fate depended on a handful of papers. There is a sad irony in that the circumstances that make it nearly impossible for Julia to get to college and escape this cycle of poverty are the very characteristics that “admission committees love” (166) and might get her accepted. By the time she is ready to leave for NYU (made possible only with a full scholarship), she finally understands that, despite the hardships she has personally faced, her parents’ sacrifices are monumental compared to her own. She is incredibly lucky to even have the option of going to college and is ready to take full advantage of this rare opportunity to break her family’s cycle of poverty.
