Putting The ‘I’ In Immigrant: I come from strong, immigrant women

I know superheroes are real because I was raised by one. I come from a woman who is otherworldly in her grace, unrelenting in her sacrifice and whose story began thousands of miles away in a bustling island city. 

There is no question of her power: love. 

In truth, it’s unfathomable to me that she came to this country with a newborn at an age not much older than I am now. She is the well that I run back to time and time again, and with everything in me, I know that it is because of her selflessness that I even have the opportunity to share her story here. 

Apart from her, I was raised by two immigrant grandmothers — two women who embody resilience in the face of adversity in a new world. At home this semester, it has been a daily serotonin boost to find laughter and inspiration from the incandescent beings that I have the pleasure of being known to as “Ate.” Big sister. 

For Women’s History Month, I celebrate them. The women in my life are hardy, vibrant women of color. Their stories are real and gritty but triumphant in conquering the challenges presented to women in this age. 

I come from strong, immigrant women, and this is my love letter to them. 

I always used to ask my mom about her life in the Philippines. I still do. 

My mom is within the category of people that never fails to ask others if they’ve eaten yet or if they need anything. She finds joy in her house being a place that is home for more than just her children. In her life, her mother was not actively involved when she was growing up and suddenly — ironically — she’s now become like a mother to everyone who has come into her circle. 

In her superhero origin story, her independence shines through. Leaving home at eighteen and earning her spot in the dental program at the prestigious University of the Philippines in Manila, my mom was self-motivated to achieve her goals. She graduated early, and on top of that, she was pregnant with me when she did it. 

When I was born, there was a great shift in where she could see herself. My dad, who she met in dental school, was from Los Angeles. For me and the opportunities I might find in the United States, she would leave everything behind to come here. 

No matter how hard I try, words will always fail me in expressing how grateful I am for that amount of love. What followed after immigrating was no walk in the park, and I know that because it was a struggle we both shared. I remember in the years before our family had a car, she would tug my sister and I around town in a little red wagon. We would accompany her to the grocery store to redeem food stamps and to the library for some quiet time to ourselves. Life was a new adventure every day, but looking back, I was never worried because I knew my mom had it handled. 

My mom has weathered countless storms and has donned an innumerable number of hats since immigrating. She is Wonder Woman in her adaptability. 

She has worked the night shift, worked double shifts, built up dental offices, raised three children, flipped some houses, and she’s even managed to find time to show us, her children, the world. She is a true jack of all trades and if there’s anyone that I honor this month, it is her. 

My grandma, my Lolie, is another. 

On my dad’s side of the family, we know who the boss is. She’s known to us as ‘Lolie,’ a play on the Philipino word for grandmother which is lola. There is a duality about her that never fails to make me laugh. She is tough as nails, while being one of the sweetest, gentlest people I know. 

Her immigration story also shaped her life. In the 1960s, she came to the US with her elder brother and from there, she married my grandpa and had two boys. 

Their life was by no means easy, of that I am wholly sure. Because of my grandpa’s work, they moved a great deal and with two young boys, it was never an easy transition from one place to the next. Still, she found the time to graduate cum laude from Texas Woman’s University and from there, her life’s work would be dedicated to social welfare. 

It wasn’t long into their life as a family when my grandma began her battle with breast cancer and her journey was strained further by the question of income. It would be a long road to remission, but she would eventually add cancer to the long list of struggles she had overcome. 

There is no doubt in my mind that the world is better because of immigrant women. These are the women who shatter glass ceilings and leave a ladder behind them for the next generation. These are the women who are the backbone of society and leave things just a little bit better than when they had found it because that’s just what immigrants do. 

I am proud to call myself an immigrant woman, and I am proud to know the history and love that has been lent to my story. 

I come from them, and for that fact, I am deeply grateful. 

Noelle Natividad is a sophomore writing about the immigrant experience in America. Her column, “Putting The ‘I’ In Immigrant,” runs every other Friday.