My name is Melissa. I am a thirty-two-year-old brown woman. I am a sister, a daughter and most importantly a mother of four. I became a mother at the age of fifteen to my first son, who is now seventeen. By the age of sixteen I had my second child, a daughter. Their dad and I lasted about six years together before I had the courage to flee from him and his abuse.
When I heard about this opportunity to contribute to this book that might help or encourage someone else to pursue their education, regardless of what obstacles they face, I was extremely excited. I figured this would be easy, considering that I have been through so much. However, when I got down to writing my story, I realized it was not as easy as I thought. As I started to explore my past, a lot of feelings and emotions I never realized were there came to the surface. So it’s been very difficult for me. This is the real deal—a glimpse into my life, my world, and my education.
I first introduced myself to you as a single mom with four children, but what I forgot to mention is that they are from three different baby’s daddies. That’s how we say it where I come from. Three different daddies who brought with them three different headaches. I didn’t plan it that way, but that is just how it worked out. I never stopped to think about the hardship I had created for my children and myself. This would include emotional, financial, and educational hardship. Overall though, we are a pretty normal family—whatever that means.
But sometimes I wish someone would have cared enough to tell me to take school a little more seriously. Or that maybe a teacher would have seen my potential or noticed that I needed a little more support and given it to me. It could have made all the difference in my life.
Nevertheless, I am still standing strong and going forward with my education. I am currently a student at the University of California at Berkeley. Not bad for a kid who dropped out of school in junior high because I was too busy having babies instead of educating myself. The infamous saying comes to mind, “a baby having a baby.” Yup. That was me all day long ghetto fabulous.
Being physically and mentally abused on a daily basis by the father of my oldest children eventually took its toll on me. What was more difficult for me, to understand was that my family knew and did nothing to stop it. Upon social services stepping in to take away my children from me, it didn’t matter that this man was four years older than me, making him an adult and me still a minor. Nor did the abuse my children and I suffered at his hands matter. Now it’s my job to try to teach my children about not having babies at a young age. At the same time, I am still trying to move forward with my life and be an example to them and other young people who I cross paths with. Having kids young, being abused, dropping out of school, not knowing my father, and having a mother who was more concerned about partying than raising me were a few of the obstacles I faced in my preteen years. Despite the damage that all these experiences brought me, I learned to survive. To add to all these challenges, I made my life more difficult by becoming heavily involved with street gangs and, of course, drugs; the two go hand in hand. In no time I was on my way to prison because that also comes along with the lifestyle I chose. I had to face charges for carjacking, robbery, and kidnapping with a gun, which entitled me to a one-way trip upstate for twenty-five to life if I was convicted on all charges. Luckily, I walked away with only a three year-and-eight-month sentence. So after twenty-five months I was released back into the world we call society. With nothing more than a GED that I got while in prison, my $200 gate money, and 500 duckets I had saved up from working PIA (Prison Industry Authority) after paying restitution to the courts, I left prison with my focus on getting my kids back. However, my bad attitude and prison rap sheet now pretty much guaranteed that no one would want to hire an ex-con much less an ex-gang member with tattoos on her face, neck, and—well—the whole body.
I quickly found my way back to the hood; I guess I never really left even though they locked me up. In no time I was back in the mix, hanging out and hooking up with one of the younger homies. It was a good match; we were like Bonnie and Clyde: we hung out together, we did dirt together, we got high together, but like all good things, it came to an end. We broke up, and I ended up driving myself to the hospital when I went into labor. He went on to get his bachelor’s degree in engineering and went on living as if his child and I didn’t exist.
A few years later I gave birth to my last and final child. I spent the next year or so as a homemaker. I depended on my husband to support me and the two little ones. (The two oldest were still with their father.) After a lot of disagreements, we also separated. I had no way to pay the rent and support my kids even with getting county benefits. We became homeless about a month later. My two little kids and I found refuge in a homeless shelter in San Pedro called Harbor Interfaith. In order for us to stay there, I needed to work or go to school and save 80 percent of my money so, when we left in three months, we would have enough money for an apartment. I agreed, and besides, the county expected the same effort from me as well. I figured I would be better off going to school than working—besides who would hire an ex-chola for any decent job with good pay? Honestly though, I really thought I was running game on the county.
When I started school at Los Angeles Harbor College in Wilmington, I was not sure what to expect. I really had just planned to cruise my way through until something else came along because I didn’t believe in myself, and more importantly, I didn’t understand that education is key to opening doors of opportunity. I lacked confidence in myself at first because of all that I had been through, plus I was going through a divorce, and my ex-husband was using my past against me because he wanted custody of my youngest child in order to avoid paying child support. The same old stuff: “She is an ex-gang member, she has had her eldest kids taken away, and she’s been in prison”. He tried everything and anything he could think of to make me look bad in the eyes of the court, and it worked. Even the judge told me with a sarcastic tone, “Mrs. Mendez, when you’re actually doing something with your life, then you can worry about seeing your son on the weekends”. Hence, my ex got custody of our son on the weekends despite threats against him by his girlfriend. It was an awful feeling to be treated as a joke in a courtroom. That feeling left me with a new perspective about my education and how the court system treats people like me. I remember telling that judge I would prove him wrong about me; he humiliated me in front of the whole courtroom and my ex-husband and his new girlfriend. I could not believe it; however, it seems as if things have worked against me my whole life. I decided to make things work for me. I became involved at school and found myself a job on campus. I started working in the counseling department. I loved learning all the ins and outs of how to make stuff happen for myself and others. Before long I established a good rapport with some faculty who gave me encouragement. After getting through my first semester, I realized that school wasn’t that bad, and I could do it plus get paid. I was like, “This is dope homie; I’m sold!”
As time progressed, I understood that I had the resources to try to obtain custody of my two eldest children. And I won. I got them back after ten years of not having them. Even though I had bounced back and forth between men, housing issues, and money issues, I succeeded in getting my kids back. Professors wrote letters to the judge explaining they were aware of my past history but that I was deserving to be a mother again to my two oldest. We won. I won. For once in my life, I got a taste of what victory felt like because of my education.
As I took each step, little did I know the possibilities that lay at my feet by simply going to school. All my life I figured that there had to be some other way—a special way to tap into what I thought was the American dream. How do I get my slice of apple pie? I’ve come to realize that, because I have figured out how to change my circumstances I needed to share it with everyone. I also understand that some will listen while others may not, and some may try and knock me down because I am a new breed that society is not ready for. But I’m coming, whether they like it or not, to speak the truth about education to the future generations, because if I don’t, who will? Hopefully, this encourages you, no matter what your struggle is. You are not alone, and there are other women out there fighting the fight, breaking ground on your behalf. All you need to do is follow the trail we have left for you because the map is in your hands. Education is the only way! There are no short cuts to breaking free from the things you see in your own life that you hate.
May you be encouraged, and if nothing else, I hope a seed of resolution has been planted within your heart forever.
Melissa Mendez-Arechiga is a student at University of California, Berkeley. She was born and raised in Los Angeles, California, but currently resides in Albany with her four children: Reben, Christina, Marissa, and Roman. Melissa is working hard to earn a dual degree in social welfare and American studies. She expects to graduate in May 2011. She loves listening to underground rap music. She aspires to continue her studies in law school on the East Coast. She dreams of working for peace in third-world countries.
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