The first three times I ever asked for help while living in an abusive relationship, I turned to my father. He was the male figure I believed was supposed to protect me from any harm in my life. But for more than a decade, every time I found the courage to ask for help, the message was the same: the blame was placed on me.
I grew up with pain, guilt, and the responsibility of caring for my siblings. When I was 10, I was sexually abused by my uncle and my grandfather, over and over again. I grew up carrying that burden alone, convincing myself it was normal. My parents’ beatings were part of everyday life. I had no one to trust.
In theory, rights are clear. Women have the right to health, autonomy, identity, and safety. Girls and adolescents have the right to be protected, to be heard, and to grow up in environments that support their well-being. But in practice—especially for immigrant women in the United States—these rights are not always accessible.
People sometimes ask: why do we have a Women’s Day but not a Men’s Day? The answer is simple. Because men have historically held the power. They have been the ones making decisions and shaping the systems. They never needed a special day to be recognized.
This is the context in which Cigüeña emerged: a card game about children’s sexual health, created so that adults—mothers, fathers, caregivers, educators, and professionals—can learn first, before trying to teach. Because what most of us received as “sex education” were myths, silences, inherited fears, or confusing explanations that never really answered what we needed to know.
So much of cooking at home is viewed as part of a “woman’s” duty. An ideology entrenched in patriarchy, passed down by not just our fathers, but our matriarchs as well. “Ya te puedes casar” is the compliment one receives after making a delicious meal, usually learned by watching our mothers and grandmothers cook.
I grew up with a mother that talked to me about choices, when I was old enough she talked to me about pregnancy, the beauty and hardship of raising children, and most importantly I witnessed her raising 4 children as a single, immigrant mother.
No one truly prepares you for the obstacles you’ll face in this lifetime, especially when navigating a journey into the unknown. This is the reality for many immigrants, who make the difficult decision to leave everything they’ve ever known behind, all in the hope of building a better future.
Let’s try a quick exercise. When you hear the word “Justice” – what first comes to mind? Do you think about punishment for the person that did wrong? Or do you think about healing for the person that was wronged?
On a hot summer day, my world changed completely. The person who brought me to this world died. One moment she was alive, smiling and living and the next she was no longer reachable by a phone call or airplane ride. The grief that came over me turned my world upside down, painting it black. Sometimes, through the cracks, light shines brightly warming me up inside. There are moments of hope even though it is fleeting.
