Growing up, my parents always had one message. It was something along the lines of, “I sacrificed everything: family, friends and my life to come to this country. I wanted to give my family back home a better life and, for my children, the life I never had.”
My family immigrated from El Salvador and Guatemala. They ran away from their violent and poor communities. Being here, they were able to earn a life for themselves and for us, the first American-born generation. Our parents have given us a great life – the life they never had. The abundance of food, clothes and technology our parents have earned through hard work is overwhelming. This fact was always an inspiration to me and to my generation.
A typical evening at the Calderon household consists of my mother watching spanish soap operas and my stepfather reading on his iPad. My grandmother (far left) visits from Guatemala. We live 30 mins outside of Boston, in Lawrence, Massachusetts. We have been here for over 7 years. This is our first family-owned house in the United States. (Photo by Iaritza Menjivar/GroundTruth)
A friend of the family, Sandy Maldonado, celebrates her 14th birthday. In this countr,y we can have a big celebration at 14 just because we want to, but the real birthday party is supposed to be at 15 for whats called a “quinceanera,” the year that marks a girl’s passage to womanhood. I remember when my mom once told me that, for her quinceanera, her mom pulled all of her savings to just afford a dress at the local street market. (Photo by Iaritza Menjivar/GroundTruth)
My niece, Rubi, the first of the second generation, shows a sign of hope and love towards Matheus, the last of the first generation in 2014.
This was during our visit to a lake in Laconia, New Hampshire, a special place we go every summer. It’s our escape from reality. Part of my family isn’t allowed to travel because of legal issues. The part of my family that can is always working. (Photo by Iaritza Menjivar/GroundTruth)
My niece, Rubi Sepulveda, 4, wears a large puffy dress and is posed like a doll for her birthday in Revere, Massachusetts. (Photo by Iaritza Menjivar/GroundTruth)
After a 12-hour shift, my aunt, Maritza Menjivar, 50, vents about her long day. She works at a bread factory in Malden, Massachusetts. She was venting about her crazy work schedule. Sometimes, it was a 12 hour shift. Sometimes, it was a 14-hour shift. Sometimes, she gets an allergic reaction to the chemicals used at the factory. She inspires me. She works so hard and I admire her for that – paying for her daughter’s college tuition and recently buying a house. (Photo by Iaritza Menjivar/GroundTruth)
In this photo, Rubi is jumping off the bed and yelling, “Fly, fly away, Tia Iari!” My mother stopped working a couple years back when my stepfather’s business really picked up. During that time, my niece, Rubi, was born. My mother would babysit Rubi while my sister worked. This September, Rubi began school. Now, my mother spends her time alone at home. I feel like my mother is depressed and I try to keep her happy, but I can’t be there for her all the time – I want to also make my life. I want to shoot, I want to use my work to create change. I just want to get out there and share my work, particularly during these difficult times. (Photo by Iaritza Menjivar/GroundTruth)
As a child in El Salvador, my stepfather, Cesar Calderon, never celebrated his own birthday. My mom and I prepared his first birthday surprise when he turned 37 years old in Lawrence, Massachusetts.
My grandfather, Armando Menjivar, 81, took frequent trips to the beach while visiting from El Salvador. He doesn’t like it here because, in El Salvador, he has his farm, his cows, his horses and his way of life. Here, he feels enclosed and crowded. (Photo by Iaritza Menjivar/GroundTruth)
My father’s sister, Frany Menjivar, chose to immigrate to the United States and never return to El Salvador in order to escape the violence. Her last straw was when she was robbed and threatened at bus stop. (Photo by Iaritza Menjivar/GroundTruth)
My grandmother Nora’s ritual is to read her Catholic magazines that she brings from her hometown in Mejicanos, San Salvador. It is her way of staying spiritually connected, since she cannot visit church as frequently as she would like. (Photo by Iaritza Menjivar/GroundTruth)
It was January 2015, I was 22 and I had made my first trip alone to Mexico for a photography workshop. I was learning how to capture and how to communicate with people. My mom was really supportive of my pursuits in photography, but others in my family were worried and questioned why I didn’t study something that would make me a lot of money. This trip really changed me. It felt like it was the first time I was able to do something for myself without fearing what my mother would feel. For the first time, I felt independent. (Photo by Iaritza Menjivar/GroundTruth)
My half brother, Hugo Menjivar, celebrates his 16th birthday. Hugo is an honors student taking college-level classes in high School. (Photo by Iaritza Menjivar/GroundTruth)
Aura Andrade, left, my mother’s aunt, financially helps her family in Guatemala by working in a factory in the U.S. Alexia, who is the bride on the left, is Aura’s youngest daughter. Aura brought her four children to the United States all on her own over the course of 12 or 13 years. (Photo by Iaritza Menjivar/GroundTruth)
My niece, Rubi, 5, sings on our deck in our home in Lawrence, Massachusetts. “When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother, ‘what will I be? Will I be pretty? Will I be rich?’ Here’s what she said to me, ‘Que sera, sera’ – whatever will be, will be the future is not ours to see. ‘que sera, sera, ‘what will be, will be.”
My Stepfather, Cesar Calderon, is an example of the accomplished American dreamer. Back in El Salvador, he worked as a carpenter since age 6. Now, he owns two successful companies and a home. He exclaims how lucky he feels to have been welcomed to the United States, he never would’ve been able to progress in El Salvador. (Photo by Iaritza Menjivar/GroundTruth)
(Photo by Iaritza Menjivar/GroundTruth)
During my grandparents’ visit from El Salvador, they asked me to take their portrait in Nahant, Massachusetts. In my grandmother’s words, “I want you to take our photo so that, when we die, you can hang a life-size photo of the both of us in your home, just like the paintings in people’s homes.” (Photo by Iaritza Menjivar/GroundTruth)
My father, Rubio, 49, works at Dunkin Donuts as a baker. He used to be a supervisor that sold food to restaurants, but then he quit and found another job. These last few years, he has been very passive, but I love him very much. I want to help him but I can’t right now. I physically can’t with my student loans. (Photo by Iaritza Menjivar/GroundTruth)
My younger brother, Hugo Menjivar, 14, and our father, Rubio Menjivar, on the way to the supermarket. Recently, my dad has settled on a low-wage job. He’s at a stage where he is depressed and desperate for a solution to succeed. My younger brother, Hugo, wants more. He has a different mindset for the future. He wants to be a civil engineer. (Photo by Iaritza Menjivar/GroundTruth)
My grandmother, Rosario Hernandez, prays before breakfast at IHop. “Gracias, papa Dios por nuestros alimentos provelele al que no tiene,” she said. In English: “Thank you, God for our Food. Please provide for those who do not have.” (Photo by Iaritza Menjivar/GroundTruth)
Aunt Doris has to walk her children to daycare and then catch two different buses for an hour-long trip each way to her job at Dunkin Donuts. She has been working at Dunkin Donuts for over 13 years. Everyday is the same routine, rain or shine. (Photo by Iaritza Menjivar/GroundTruth)
The morning before my grandmother went back to Guatemala, she made us all pray for her safe travel. This trip was her first time traveling to the United States, and after three attempts to get a visa, she finally received one. She was able to visit family after over 20 years of being apart. My grandmother lives in a farm where they still use an outdoor bathroom and manual wash techniques to clean clothes. I had to teach her how to use our toilet and our shower. (Photo by Iaritza Menjivar/GroundTruth)
My aunt, Maritza, stands in her home after a 12-hour shift at the factory. She is the first of our family to immigrate to the United States. “If I stayed, I would’ve probably had five kids conforming to the typical Salvadoran lifestyle. You don’t progress over there. I own my car now and, one, day I will have my home.” (Photo by Iaritza Menjivar/GroundTruth)
But, as one of the oldest children from the first generation, I culturally grew up alongside my parents. At an early age, I would help with an array of things: from translating paperwork to helping my family make a call back home on the new iPhone. Assimilating into American culture wasn’t easy for them and it has not been me, a part of the first generation, either – our identity is between two cultures. Now that the first generation of my family is older, it is difficult for us to make our own independent lives because, even though most of my family has lived here for more than 20 years years, they still rely on us for many things – especially since we have attended college and are now more educated than they could have ever been.
The pressure to be successful in a family like mine is extreme. Of course, we wanted nothing more than to make our family proud. At times, I feel that my generation has been forced to accept a sacrifice – one we didn’t choose – but I still hope that, one day, I am able to provide for my parents with the same care that they gave me. I want to buy them the home they’ve always wanted.
Photographer’s Note
This photo series is about the many important family events that have occurred in recent years, like the birth of my baby sister, Paula Nora. The morning after her birth, my father laid down on the hospital couch and I wanted to say to him, “Dad, I know that this year has been a rough one, but regardless of how weak you might feel, to me you are still the greatest father of all,” but instead, I took the photograph.
We don’t have to say much to each other – it’s how it has always been. This past year, my maternal grandmother was able to visit from Guatemala for the first time. It was a touching moment when her and my aunt were able to hug each other after 20 years of not seeing each other. My aunt had been going through a tough time – she had been evicted from her home. When my grandparents visit, they seem so proud of my parents. They feel the difference of an American household compared to the ones in their home countries. My grandmother could not stop bragging about us to the rest of the family in Guatemala.
