What it's like to be an artist with immigrant parents

My mother migrated to the U.S. from Guerrero, Mexico when she was just 15 years old. My mother's family grew up poor, walking barefoot, their home partially made of bamboo and palm leaves. Like many immigrant parents, you are told to do good in school so that in the future you're not working under the hot sun like they are. They dream of you becoming a doctor or an engineer, or simply having a job in an air conditioned building. With a desk too, maybe.

Now commences the artistic journey that clashes with the "American dream" my parents had for me. *insert exhausted Spongebob meme*

I have been drawing since my earliest years of life, it was such a passion for me at a young age that I've won about every art contest I've participated in school and outside of school. You'd think I'd be like "damn, I must be good, huh?" but unfortunately, as good as I may have been at art, it was never going to be good enough for my parents —who had different dreams for me.

As a child, people would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up, and every time my response was "I want to be an artist!". That just wasn't acceptable in my home as I was scolded every time that I was caught drawing. 

My mom would yell "that's a waste of time!" or "you need to be doing something more productive!". I've even had my art supplies thrown in the trash by her which is such an eerie resemblance to the relationship Ana has with her mother on the Netflix series 'Gentefied' —who also did not approve of her daughter being an artist.

Within an immigrant family, there is an expectation of you becoming something more, like a physician or an attorney or an engineer.

As a result, I grew up feeling insecure in my art and found myself hiding it a lot. I was suppressed from my passion and pressured into going to college for something I did not want to do, something my parents and family said would get me more money. Thousands of dollars in student loans later, I felt so lost in the world, as if I had no purpose and I suffered many years with depression. I was far too disconnected from my art at this point by how much that immigrant survival mentality was thrust down my throat (which is essentially capitalism and colonialism in disguise).

So what got me to reconnect with my artistic spirit again you may be wondering? 

Well, it was the reconnection to my culture and ancestors that led me right back! It was the medicine of our community that realigned me on the path that has always been there for me and realizing that being an artist was one of the most important roles you could have 500 years ago. The art that was created then is still used today and it is still as sacred.  Art that survived an attempt of cultural genocide, art that we continue to use in our homes, our altars, and our ceremonies. 

This healing was not a piece of cake, though. It took a long time for me to realize that my parents reached this point because they have been disconnected by the harms of colonization. I am actively unlearning all of the harmful things that colonialism and capitalism taught me. I am choosing to break this cycle of harm by relearning to embrace myself and my roots again and by allowing my children to experience the support and abundance that I did not have as a child. 

I hope that sharing my story will push you to get in touch with your creative side.

Go surround yourself with those who support your wildest dreams, and if you have no presence of support at the moment, you must remember that you are not alone, relative. You have an entire army of support from your ancestors! ♡