A letter from Carlos Almazan to his wife


Dear my love,

Hope everything goes on well for the family and kids.
Remember the new town I mentioned last time? Embedded deeply in the establishment of such new communities are the collective stories and memories of being Mexicans in this place full of ambitions. The prosperity and huge expansion of the Los Angeles city shall be attributed to our humble hands and traits, while the domination of those arrogant white men and women soared, even with the fact that most of them who came just a few years ahead know few more than us.
Gradually, however, I am confounded in the white men’s overwhelming efforts to incorporate our community to the Protestant values they stubbornly uphold.   
Forced language classes in the employment sites are such an absurd product of their wishful beliefs in the Americanization Act. Our outright dissents towards the middle-class meddling in the community work, however, does not stop them from expanding the Home Teacher Act to promote our women in their jobs of shaping an American atmosphere at home or shaping American citizenry for our future generation. At some points, I do have a hard time to voice my suffering of losing the firm grasp on my beloved Mexican culture, but it is even harder to be a Mexican American, who faces the hurl abuse by both sides: on one hand, such hyphenated American identity stirs suspicion in an alien state; on the other hand, a degree of conversion suggests disloyalty to my country. When french fries and foreign entertainments swirl in the neighborhood, one cannot unsee some of our people’s aversion towards such transformation and others who follow the trend. I wonder when I will be able to return, for under the dual pressure, I do not find myself a comfortable place or reconciliation for my self-identification.
Tell me if there is any urgency.

Always love you,
Carlos Almazan

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