Sandra Cisneros
Only Daughter
Sandra Cisneros from Latina: Women's Voices From the Borderlands. Edited by Lillian Castillo-Speed. New York:
Touchstone/Simon & Schuster, 1995.
Once, several years ago, when I was just starting out my writing career, I was asked to write my own contributor’s note for an anthology1 I was part of. I wrote: “I am the only daughter in a family of six sons. That explains everything.”
Well, I’ve thought about that ever since, and yes, it explains a lot to me, but for the reader’s sake I should have written: “I am the only daughter in a Mexican family of six sons.” Or even: “I am the only daughter of a
Mexican father and a Mexican-American mother.” Or: “I am the only daughter of a working-class family of nine.” All of these had everything to do with who I am today.
I was/am the only daughter and only a daughter. Being an only daughter in a family of six sons forced me by circumstance to spend a lot of time by myself because my brothers felt it beneath them to play with a girl in public. But that aloneness, that loneliness, was good for a would-be writer— it allowed me time to think and think, to imagine, to read and prepare myself.
Being only a daughter for my father meant my destiny would lead me to become someone’s wife. That’s what he believed. But when I was in the fifth grade and shared my plans for college with him, I was sure he understood. I remember my father saying,
“Que bueno, mi’ha, that’s good.” That meant a lot to me, especially since my brothers thought the idea hilarious. What I didn’t realize was that my father thought college was good for girls—good for finding a husband. After four years in college and two more in graduate school, and still no husband, my father shakes his head even now and says I wasted all that education.
In retrospect2, I’m lucky my father believed daughters were meant for husbands.
1
anthology: collection of stories and other literature in a book. 2
retrospect:
Sandra Cisneros from Latina: Women's Voices From the Borderlands. Edited by Lillian Castillo-Speed. New York:
Touchstone/Simon & Schuster, 1995.
Once, several years ago, when I was just starting out my writing career, I was asked to write my own contributor’s note for an anthology1 I was part of. I wrote: “I am the only daughter in a family of six sons. That explains everything.”
Well, I’ve thought about that ever since, and yes, it explains a lot to me, but for the reader’s sake I should have written: “I am the only daughter in a Mexican family of six sons.” Or even: “I am the only daughter of a
Mexican father and a Mexican-American mother.” Or: “I am the only daughter of a working-class family of nine.” All of these had everything to do with who I am today.
I was/am the only daughter and only a daughter. Being an only daughter in a family of six sons forced me by circumstance to spend a lot of time by myself because my brothers felt it beneath them to play with a girl in public. But that aloneness, that loneliness, was good for a would-be writer— it allowed me time to think and think, to imagine, to read and prepare myself.
Being only a daughter for my father meant my destiny would lead me to become someone’s wife. That’s what he believed. But when I was in the fifth grade and shared my plans for college with him, I was sure he understood. I remember my father saying,
“Que bueno, mi’ha, that’s good.” That meant a lot to me, especially since my brothers thought the idea hilarious. What I didn’t realize was that my father thought college was good for girls—good for finding a husband. After four years in college and two more in graduate school, and still no husband, my father shakes his head even now and says I wasted all that education.
In retrospect2, I’m lucky my father believed daughters were meant for husbands.
1
anthology: collection of stories and other literature in a book. 2
retrospect: