Listening to the stories that the elders in both side of my family have told me makes me realize I’m a privileged individual to have been born in the United States of America, an industrialized country that allows opportunity for growth as a person, and a place where liberties are respected. Unfortunately, unique cultures can be devastated and clouded by political parties such Communism. Just as Communism devastates economies, so does it, by necessity, destroy liberty and cultural beauty. The Cuban culture is part of who I am.
In the early years in indoctrinated me with false beliefs on ethnicity, race, gender, sex. The human mind is the most powerful computer in the universe known, and just like regular computers, I guess it can malfunction or get a virus (false gender beliefs). All viruses on computers can be cleaned much like gender stereotypes when brought from the unconscious to the conscious mind. Being part of minority group has been tough throughout my life, but it has given me necessary lessons, as well as experiences that will help me in my career as a future therapist in a world that is being globalized.
Coming from a family, culture, ethnicity, and race that fell in to a minority group in a white dominated nation has allowed for many different perspectives to situations, as well as the ability to empathize with those who are suffering through similar experiences. The Cuban culture has given me a base that I have built on, and along the way, through much education and travel experience, given me the opportunity to demolished the unnecessary parts of the structure that I am building for myself as a young curious, Cuban American professional. I truly believe that if humans were to look at the similarities rather than differences then we would make stereotypes, labels and prejudice an anomaly.
It is 1981 in Habana, Cuba on a quiet night when all of a sudden Fidel Castro’s communist regime knocks down the door to my grandparents’ house as the military police storm in. With-out sparing a moment military police starts ransacking the house without any regard for my family’s personal property. Evidence or lack of it, it did not matter; my grandfather was being accused of speaking out against Fidel Castro, and would be a political prisoner for the next 7 years of his life. Before I continue the story I would like to remind you the kind of wrath Cuba was experiencing at the time.
My ancestor’s country had been hijacked just twenty years ago by a communist political party, orchestrated by the Castro family. During these times there was no such thing as liberty and justice for all in Cuba, and Castro’s communist party would feel more like a dictatorship to many on the island. Just as Communism devastates economies, so does it, by necessity, destroy liberty. Until this day both my grandparents say that the military police did not find a single piece of evidence to support their claim for unjust entrance in to the house. Little did my family know that this event will be the first part of an un-foretold sequence of events leading to my conception, and current presence at St. Thomas University.
My grandpa’s imprisonment caused much shame to my family’s name at the time. My mom and uncle describe with tears on their eyes on how they were ridiculed at school by children and adults alike. The environment on the Cuban island was more of a “Either your communist or you’re a prisoner, and let us not even suspect otherwise” according to my uncle Gilberto Pererra. My grandfather would be treated like an animal for the next seven years. If we think the prisons in the United States of America are bad, imagine the correction centers in Cuba.
The willingness of Communist regimes to use brute force over their subjects is not constrained, as it is in non-Communist societies, by any concern for the civil or human rights of the citizens. At times prisoners in Cuba barely had three meals a day, and when they did it was awful food. All the prisoners had to work in the field every day, and only one hour of visitation was allowed a month. My grandma could not stand the shame, loneliness, and despair in Cuba at the times which lead to my family’s next move.
It was 1985 now (4 years later) when my grandma finally decided to leave Cuba, for Panama City, Panama for the safety of her two children and to prevent further harassment from the local government officials. My uncle at the time was almost 15 years old, which meant that in just a few months he would have to enter military service involuntarily. I admire my grandma’s courage, and willingness to provide a better life for her family. It must have been hard for her to leave my grandpa in prison on a quest for a better life. My family would spend the next four years saving money in the foreign nation of Panama until they finally had enough money to buy fake passports to the United States of America. Just in time to meet my grandpa here right after his sentence in Cuba was complete.
Listening to the stories that the elders in both side of my family have told me makes me realize I’m a privileged individual to have been born in the United States of America, an industrialized country that allows opportunity for growth as a person, and a place where liberties are respected. In Cuba, opportunities are limited, the welfare state doesn’t work, the education system has been corrupted to include communist principles as well as philosophies, but most of all the people of Cuba live in fear of imprisonment by the tyrant of Fidel Castro. For these very reasons, my parents and their families decided to risk it all to make a better life for themselves, as much as future generations within the family.
My mother was able to gain her respect through sports such as volleyball in which everyone called her “the Cuban girl”. Over time my family was able to learn English and they all agree that freedom of speech is a beautiful thing and should never be outlawed or put restrictions on due to their personal experience. Money was always an issue in the U.S.A but once my mother and uncle graduated high school, my grandparents were relieved because they had set the stepping stones for a new horizon for future generations like me.
In the early years Miami, Florida was full of stereotypical and prejudice white Americans. Life was made difficult in the early years of my family’s existence in the United States by humans who only saw differences and not similarities among cultures. White Americans in the country felt a sense of entitlement over foreigners from other nations, when in reality we are all part of something bigger. It doesn’t matter what culture, ethnicity, sexual orientation, religious beliefs, or gender you cater toward because in the end we are “all human and 99% of the same genotype” (Weil, 2000). Many of the problems encountered by my mother’s side of the family were due to systematic forces such as injustice, prejudice, and discrimination. Humans fear what they don’t understand, creating a false belief system that leads to hatred, a dislike of others, and a focus on differences of other people rather than similarities.
The story of my father is just as amazing as the story of my mothers’ side of the family. My father was raised by his grandmother. At the time my father had an uncle who was planning to drive a boat full of people to the Unites States of America, and so he took the opportunity at just the age of twelve with my grandmother and hundreds of other Cubans to come to the United States. Both sides of the story represent humans running from regime that had no consideration for liberties of others to a land which was quite the opposite. The United States of America is not perfect, but it is still the land of the free, and it is a land in which freedom of speech is honored and appreciated.
When talking to my father about his story, he mentions
many difficulties in adjusting compared to my mother. My father was raised only by my great grandma, it’s hard enough to be a foreign land but without parents to? He mentions on how he had to start working from the age of 13 just to be able to bring food for him as well as my great grandmother. My father was always a leader and he had the gift of mindreading also known as “the ability to interpret facial cues”. The ability to understand non-verbal communication certainly helped my father but was only a short term help to a long process. Besides lacking knowledge of the English language, stereotypes of the current Cuban immigration issue was intense. My father got in to many altercations with boys that were constantly name calling. Nevertheless, my father prevailed by learning the English language, studying in high school, and working whenever given the chance to receive extra income. Today Juan Francisco Martell (my father) is going on 17 years in the Miami Dade Police unit.
Another cultural shock correlated in the interview I gave my parents was their current socio economic status at the time. Coming from a third world country, money was never in abundance, but that was the case for all the Cuban population in Cuba. In the United States not everyone was poor, actually, food was in abundance and all a person had to do was look for work to access some sort of steady income. Unlike today, during the late 80’s finding work was much simpler in the U.S.A. Anyone willing to work hard could definitely move up the rankings at an institution or business, which was not the case in Cuba where an individual is, has a lower ceiling of opportunity.
Although opportunity was acknowledge by my parents, that doesn’t make it easy. Being poor in a foreign unknown country can be tuff psychologically. Knowing that others have it easier than you can cause someone to think they aren’t good enough or under privileged. The socio-economic status was low, but they remembered all those other individuals back at home who didn’t have the opportunity that was presented before them and the embraced the challenge.
Every time I may feel as if I have it rough, I always revert back to the story of both my parents, and difficulties in adjusting to a different culture, language, gender beliefs, as well as new socioeconomic status. The story is more of a paraphrase for what was to come in the United States of America after arriving with fake passports. Culture is a beautiful and according to Sir Edward Burnett Tylor it is “that complex whole which includes knowledge, belief, art, morals, law, custom and any other capabilities and habits acquired by man as a member of society”. Until this day, my grandparents practice, live, and breathe the Cuban culture. From playing Cuban music on family gatherings, to sharing old Cuban legends as well as beliefs.
As you can see, there was a lot of un-foretold sequence of events that had to occur before my conception on March 28 1991 in Miami, Florida. I was the first born of three, and a first generation American citizen. I’ve seen the videos of my birth, and you can see tears in everyone’s eyes. Both sides of the family couldn’t believe that I was the first of the family to be born in the United States. The expectations that still follow me today from my family are huge. I love it because an expectation allow for the creation of goals, and challenges. Without my family, and knowing the struggles endowed in the quest for freedom from tyranny I would not be so motivated in becoming a successful human being, in being all I can be.
Much like my parents, one of my biggest struggles was the transition from a Cuban household to the American culture. Not only was I raised by my grandparents most of the time due to my parents having to obtain multiple jobs to support their two kids, but I was also taught Spanish first, which lead me not to know a single word of English at the start of kinder-garden. I specifically remember how difficult kinder-garden through second grade was for myself due to the language barrier, but I was able to learn swiftly and without much constraint which allowed me to teach my sister so she wouldn’t have to be embarrassed as I was. The event of not knowing the common language was a difficulty I overcame, but I can only imagine how hard it must be for other kids from foreign nations. Despite of what my early teachers thought of me between the ages of 5-8 I knew that just because I didn’t speak the English language does not mean I was mentally handicapped.
Throughout my life in South Florida I have been part of the dominant population. As a Hispanic male, I fit right in with the Latin culture. At a young age I realized that Hispanics discriminate among themselves. I remember that every time someone made a mistake driving, my father would automatically attribute the mistake due to sex, or an individual being of Indian descent. It was the way his mind made sense of things, but it was inaccurate, and unreliable. I questioned his beliefs at a young age, because even at six years old I saw the discrepancy in the pattern he was portraying. Just like Hispanics discrimanate against each other, whites discriminate against other whites, and Blacks discriminate against other black just like the Haitian’s did toward Bahamians. Rather than looking inward, I often times look to the external world for answers, which is one of the ways in which I develop unconscious false consensus towards other groups.
Ever since I can remember Miami, Florida has had a very diverse population. I have never felt out casted or ashamed of my ethnicity or culture until I was accepted in to college in 2012 in Pensacola Florida. The University I attended was 90% white Anglo-American. Daily I was approached by people in the dorm rooms with questions about where I was from, or what my name was due to my heavy accent (which I never knew I even had). Mind you I was 20 at the time, and although I was a well-educated young man, who had been blessed with much travel experience I had never really felt out casted before.
Many of the students at the University would always give me an odd stare. It must have been my dark eyes, much hair throughout my physical body, and unique style. I specifically remember as well that my dorm room was “randomly checked” twice as much as the other students in the hall way. Not to mention, I had Resident Assistant (RA) call the police on me a few times due to a false consensus that my dorm room smelled like drugs when in fact it was the room next door. Unfair prejudice was obviously in effect due to stereotypes whether conscious or unconscious.
The events in my first few years in college may seem sad, it was for the best. I was awakened by the fact that we all have stereotypes of others. Stereotypes are inevitable, but making them conscious, with an open mind allows us for the ability to change them. More than ever I was proud of my culture, ethnicity, name, and who I was.
My family was embedded in me through my determination, respect for others, as well as hard work. Humans are marvelous creatures, our complex reasoning and ability to Mentalize a social situation is like no other on earth. Mentalizing is known as “being able to connect to the mental state of others” .It is not the ability to Mentalize that causes stereotypes, but our insecurities and fear of what we don’t know. The mind of humans attempts to conceptualize everything to one moment, when in reality it is impossible. Humans label for the purpose attempting to understand, it is a mistake all humans make.
The undergraduate college years allowed for me to challenge my gender beliefs. Growing up in a Cuban household and family I always had the impression that men were supposed to be Masculine (aggressive, competitive, serious, strong etc…). Homosexuals were frowned upon by my family, and others I was associated with. When arriving to college I saw many men who were heterosexuals, but did not possess the qualities that I always believed made a man. I was unsure of what to think of them at first, but the more time I spent around campus the more my gender beliefs were challenged, the more my gender beliefs were challenged the more my mind opened up creating a downfall of my stereotypes toward gender. Not to mention, one of my best friends ended being a homosexual.
The belief that all homosexuals were bad people who were just crying for attention seemed to vanish. I also stopped believing that all homosexuals were out to change others sexual orientation. Many of my homosexual friends respected my sexual orientation and never attempted to challenge it. Gender is a social construct, which means it is made up by the mind. The human mind is the most powerful computer in the universe known, and just like regular computers, I guess it can malfunction or get a virus (false gender beliefs). All viruses on computers can be cleaned much like gender stereotypes.
Educated people acknowledge that the world is globalizing itself. Thirty years ago, it used to take weeks to relay a message across the globe, but in today’s world it only takes a few minutes through email. I have been blessed to travel to as many parts of the world as I have, because I have gotten to experience different cultures, realities, but most of all to allow for different perspectives to my future counseling arsenal. Coming from a family, culture, ethnicity, and race that fell in to a minority group in a white dominated nation has allowed for many different perspectives to life.
Being part of minority group has been tough throughout my life, but it has given me necessary lessons, as well as experiences that will help me in my career as a future therapist in a world that is being globalized. Stereotypes, prejudices, gender bias, sexism, socio economic status shame, race, and ethnicity is something that has become more of a topic in the last few decade which has allowed for challenges in one’s cognitive system. The fact is “we don’t deliberately choose our unconscious attitudes, and at times may not even be aware of them”. It’ doesn’t matter the circumstance, because in the end we are all human, with more similarities than differences. The events of my family and myself as part of the reason that brings me to the Mental Health Counseling arena. I want to help others overcome internal obstacles that are socially constructed.
Throughout the years my family has grown in size. Many have come from Cuba with similar struggles. In the Cuban culture family are just due to biological reasons, but close friends, and neighbors are regarded as family. Those within my family (biological or not) see me under a different light than others within the family. I’m seen as a first generation American rather than a pure Cuban despite my ancestors, which is odd because others outside the family circle see me as Cuban.
Also, those within my circle expect greatness from me, and to pursue the things they never had which is hard for me to comprehend because I do not view external objects/materials as important unlike most people who grow up under privileged. When little cousin, nephews, or even friends need information about a subject, help with homework, or just want to discuss a topic that requires neural stimulation typically it’s me they call with the belief that I have all the answers being born in the U.S.A and being an educated individual. The role I have within my family is the curious child, who is a unifier in all living aspects. I’m sure my father wishes I was a body-builder as he once was, or in the marines but being known as the first born curious child of three will have to do.
Aside from being the curious child among three, I have always had the sense that it is my responsibility to watch over my little brother with autism. It has been unspoken about within my family, but the expectation is there. The truth of the matter is that my family is getting old, and my brother’s caregivers which are my grandparents won’t be around forever. Not to mention, the role with my brother that I speak of is the role of pure friendship, compassion, non-judgemental, and unconditional love for just being the soul he is. It is my responsibility within my family to watch over the younger siblings. It is a responsibility I do not take lightly.
The difference between generations within my family is evident in many ways. For one, I value those from all over the world and do not live in a small of a bubble as my grandparents. God bless their soul, but it is hard to teach an old dog new tricks. False consensuses toward groups of people still exist in the paradigm than the previous generation before me in my family. For one they dehumanize homosexuals, while I cherish there courage. The generation before me in my family still sees Mexicans as Indians, while I see them as humans. Not to mention, I do not find money as important as my mother, or grandmother do.
The Professional Identity of an individual varies due to experience, culture, and intrinsic goals of a person. I made a decision a long time ago to be a person that does good for humanity, and on the other side of the token to be all I can be. I know my life is short relative to the earth’s existence, and that death is the only thing promised to me. I embrace the truth, because it helps me live life to the fullest, while helping those in need. Humans have prioritized money over all else throughout history. Money is power, and power is a sickness because is feeds the ego. Part of my professional identity is to stay humble, and inherit money but not at the expense of others, or at the expense of my happiness. Money is numbers, and numbers never end, so if my happiness is to be based on money, then my search for happiness will never end.
Part of my professional identity is the belief that we are all born with liberty. Liberty is more beautiful than equality because liberty has no restrictions, going as I please, being who I desire, and enjoying what I love in life, without jeopardizing another person liberty is part of my professional Identity. Equality is impossible and an injustice that my family has experienced firsthand in Cuba, where “equality” among everyone in the nation exists, but liberty is nowhere to be found. Whether you agree with what I am doing is an opinion which you are entitled to, but I have the liberty of pursuing the action as long as I don’t affect another individual’s liberty.
The Cuban culture is part of who I am. In the early years in indoctrinated me with false beliefs on ethnicity, race, gender, sex. Given my families’ history, low socio economic status, and language barriers were a heavy challenge in my families’ early history as well as mine. Despite all the ridicule my family, and myself may have received due to being a minority it has been for the best because it has turned my unconscious to conscious when tackling social, societal, and professional goals. The Cuban culture gave me a base that I have built on, and along the way have demolished the unnecessary parts of the structure that I am building for myself as a young curious, Cuban American professional.
