The House on Mango Street

I finished the House on Mango Street and it left me with such a warm familiar feeling.

I have been wanting to read more books written by female Mexican authors and this seemed like the perfect start. I had seen this cover a dozen times during high school at the library and again at different bookstores but I just never gave it a chance. After all, it didn’t involve politics so why would I pick it up? I could easily make the assumption that the author and I don’t share the same views so why would I give her a chance, let her words into my daily life? Knowing all of these things, I still felt like I needed to read this.

I love that Cisneros wanted everyone to be able to successfully read and finish her book, regardless of skill level. She made it so each chapter was only about two or three pages, making it a very easy book to read. However, the pages were full of life, character, and color. I read her words and thought, “how many times have I been the Esperanza of my family?” So much of Esperanza’s determination, vision, and even stubbornness resonated with me. In a Mexican family, it is so easy to feel like a crazy dreamer, ideas that will never become reality. You look around and you see familiarity and tradition (not necessarily the good kind.) You look around at family members and you see love, wisdom, and missed opportunities. How many other Latin kids grew up saying “not me, I will make it out of here.” I should know, I was one of them.

We look at the world dreaming with innocence and then we get hit with reality. The reality of work, rent, and failed relationships. How many times have you felt like you’re running as fast as you can and the wind is hitting you smack in the face in the opposite direction? That’s what it felt like when I moved out of my hometown, in fact that’s why it’s so hard for me to return. I can resonate with Esperanza so much, wanting a house of her own. It may be small and imperfect but something that only belongs to her. Something for her stories to come to life inside, a place for her imagination and love to grow. I remember when I was younger, we’d drive around the nice neighborhoods, look at the houses, and imagine what we’d do if we could live in a place like that. I know I’m not the only kid who dreamed not of being a millionaire or fancy things, but just having a nice house to live in.

Growing up, I knew something was different. I was different. Just like Cisneros writes about Esperanza, I didn’t WANT to belong, not to that place. We are so much more than the places we come from, this book is the only piece of literature that I’ve ever read where I felt like my life was written before me on the pages. It’s okay to not want to belong to the place you’re from, it’s okay to dream and want to be better. You’re not a snob, phony, or turning your back on your “people” for wanting a better life. I write it down for you now, so it can serve as a reminder to myself.

“Many people who live in the barrio can’t imagine a life outside of it.”

-Esperanza Cordero, ‘The House On Mango Street’, Chapter 44, 1984.

When I read this, I think my jaw dropped. You and your beautiful head filled with dreams are not responsible for the lack of dreams in someone else, or their inability to make them happen. If you managed to shut out all the noise and imagine a world outside of the block you were raised in, you owe it to yourself to leave. There is so much more to life than the neighborhood you grew up in.

All in all, it’s not a bad thing to want more for yourself. It’s not pretentious or mean to hope for more and do whatever it takes to make it happen. Do yourself a favor and leave your hometown, meet new people, leave those who mock your dreams, and leave the place that makes you feel dead inside. You can always return, the time to follow your dreams is NOW!

Another tip- Pick up a copy of this book, you won’t regret it!

xoxo

-C