A House of My Own: Stories From My Life by Sandra Cisneros
*2 When I remind Mexicans of the abductions and disappearances in their own country, the political corruption, human rights violations, and drug wars, they counter, “Yes, but we don’t have to send our children to school with fear they will be assassinated by other children.”
*3 I have complete faith that mothers and grandmothers are the solution to the violence not only in Mexico, but across the world. There can be nothing that is more highly revered in Mexican culture than a mother, except perhaps a mother’s mother, and beyond that the holy mother of mothers, the goddess Guadalupe.
Once on San Antonio television, a live TV camera followed the tense exchange between a sniper holed up in his house and the San Antonio police. In the middle of the drama, the sniper’s grandmother came home and asked what was going on. When it was explained, she tore past the yellow police tape, went in herself, and came out with the young culprit dangling from her arm as she swatted and spanked him with her chancla. What the world needs now are the grandmother brigades to shame, swat, and spank the meros machos of el mundo.
Pilón: Infinito
There was once a woman who longed to live in a house all her own, where the rooms would be clean and quiet, and she could work. She fell in love with houses because of their silence as well as their light. But she did not have a house of her own.
She rented cheap rooms in buildings built for cars, where rooms for people were only an afterthought, though cars didn’t even need to be sheltered, for it was a land where it was never truly cold. The heat came in through the tin roof, and cockroaches, lacquered as Egyptian scarabs, marched in through the cracks as if they were Egyptian royalty. Desperate “rodentia” scrambled between the walls.
The sun shone hard and harsh in this land, and the nopalitos and the flowers bloomed most of the year. And when they did not, pecans crunched beneath shoes. In this season, rowdy grackles shook out their feathers, black and shiny as the skin of night rivers, and gathered in the skeleton of winter trees.
Sometimes this woman lived in borrowed homes, but these have their own poison. They were not for keeps, and to fall in love with them and to know eventually you had to give them up was as terrible as falling in love with someone else’s husband. To fall in love like this is nothing short of torture.
Houses came and houses went, flirting with her, but they were not to be hers. Until one day, a wise woman arrived and asked for water. The woman who owned no houses remembered that to give water is a way of being blessed, and so, con ganas, with desire, she gave water to the wise woman.
—I want to give you something in return. What is it you wish for more than anything? A husband?
—Oh no, not anymore.
—A new car?
—Not worth the price. I always buy used.
—What about shoes?
—I don’t have room to store the ones I have. What I really want is a house of my own.
—Who wouldn’t? the wise woman said. —Just you wait. See you later.
And so it happened that a house did appear, not only one she fell in love with, but one that was for sale and at a price she could afford, without even a realtor. She was terribly frightened, but her agent and her accountant gave her ánimo, which is like courage but with a push.
It was a house with a mesquite tree alongside dancing an arabesque and a pecan tree in front that dropped its fruit on the roof in the autumn like coins—plunk, plunk—and a river behind snaking into a graceful S. Well! It was such a fine house, every time she put the key in the lock, she had to laugh.
This house she painted violet because of her overwhelming love, and oh, what an uproar this caused. Who would think violet would cause so much pain to others? But people who have no life of their own like to meddle in the lives of those who do.
More sooner than later, the sun faded this violet house to blue, and the next time paint was due, the woman knew to paint it a darker shade of pink, so that it would fade from pinker to pink.
This house, though it was big at first, became small in time as she grew and grew, so that near the end of her time there, she felt like Alice in the illustration by Sir John Tenniel after she has drunk from the “Drink Me” bottle. To make matters worse, she had filled the house up with furniture, dogs, a man, and a lot of clutter. Because she was industrious, she built another little house beside the first, the color of the thousand-petaled marigold, xempoaxóchitl. And here she put her books and her desk, and the guests who visited overnight.
In time, a third house, across the street, came to be hers, and inside this house, which she painted blue, she decided to put all the things that got in the way of her work—writers in residence, workshops, tax receipts, and even the man she now lived with, who was as sweet as burnt-milk candy but as untidy as un remolino tejano en agosto, a Texas dust devil in August, and eventually would be asked to leave.
But, oh, how the houses wailed and cried, and were worse than little children.
—I need a spiral staircase so as to reach the roof and look at the stars, said the Marigold House.
—But look at me! I need lights so that folks at night can see I am now pink, said the house formerly known as Violet, because she had gotten used to fame.
—But I haven’t got fresh paint at all, said the Blue House, and my roof needs repairs, and my doors need mending, and my glass is cracked. Compared to you two, I look rather raggedy.
Well, the woman who owned these three houses had no idea they would keep her up nights with their whining. They were as spoiled as courtesans, as vain as hothouse flowers, as demanding as trust-fund children, and they needed things now, or they would hold their breath and collapse under the weight of seasons.
The woman who owned the three houses sat at her desk and tried to set to work dreaming daydreams, because this was her profession. But because fear is great and courage small, she could not dream a single dream.
Finally, she decided to take a nap and listen to her night dreams. And so, in her dream she saw all around her were stories, some that the neighbor parking his car in his driveway gave her, one that was brought to her by the cleaning lady, one that her gardener plucked as perfect as a Fragonard rose. Well!
To think! They had been whirling and flying all about her all along, and they were free for the taking. You only had to sit still, and down from the skies they fluttered and landed in your hair. Stories without beginning or end, connecting everything little and large, blazing from the center of the universe into el infinito called the great out there.
Resting Place/Descanso
Ai
María Romualda Felipa Anguiano de Cordero
Gloria Anzaldúa
Enrique Arteaga Cisneros
Gertrude Baker
Gwendolyn Brooks
Ronnie Burk
Reverend Tom Chavana
Carolina Cisneros Cordero
Estela Cisneros Beamonte
Alfredo Cisneros del Moral
Edna Cisneros del Moral
José Enrique Cisneros del Moral
Jorge Cisneros del Moral
Luis Gonzaga Cisneros y Guillén
Efraín Cordero
José Cordero
Manuel Cordero
Tomasa Cordero Alcalá
Guadalupe Cordero Cabrera
Elvira Cordero Cisneros
José Eleuterio Cordero Rodríguez
Eulalia Cordero Rosen Gómez
José De Lara García
Trinidad del Moral de Cisneros
Maria Dermoût
Marguerite Duras
Federico Fellini
Carlos Fuentes
Eduardo Galeano
Alejandro Garza Fuentes
William Geyer
Cynthia Harper
Oscar Hijuelos
Rick Hunter
Ryszard Kapuściński
James Patrick Kirby
Danny López Lozano
Salem Malović
Eugene Martínez
Jerry Weston Math
Isaac Maxwell
Craig Pennel
Astor Piazzolla
Victoria Rizo de Anguiano
Mercè Rodoreda
Luis Omar Salinas
Mario David Sánchez
Antonios Stavrou
Studs Terkel
Chavela Vargas
Senator John Vasconcellos
Mariana Yampolsky
Acknowledgments
I once complained to Eduardo Galeano that I felt homeless. His reply: “You have many homes at once.” Well, this was true, I realized, after giving it some thought. Many doors have opened in the past and taken me in when I had nowhere else to go or didn’t know my next address. Sometimes it was a room of my own that was offered, and sometimes it was the whole house. I thank all who have generously sheltered me.
Borrowed Houses: Cavanaugh O’Leary and Blanca Uzeta O’Leary; Sara Stevenson and Richard Queen; J. Frank Dobie Paisano House; Foundation Michael Karolyi; the Mabel Dodge Lujan House; Arturo Madrid and Antonia Castañeda; Juan Ríos and Estévan Rael Galvez; Rosemary Catacalos; Norma Cantú and Elvia Niebla; Alfred and Julie Cisneros; Tey Diana Rebolledo and Michael Passi; Denise Chávez and Daniel C. Zolinsky; Ruth Béhar; Dennis Mathis; Tracy and Teresa Boyer; Phyllis López-Kirby.
Home-Sweet-Home Publishing Houses: Gary Soto and Lorna Dee Cervantes’s Mango Press, Norma Alarcón’s Third Woman Press, Joni Evans and Julie Grau of Turtle Bay, and my current home, Vintage and Alfred A. Knopf. Mil y un gracias. Belated gratitude: Back in the day, when Woman Hollering Creek first appeared, Ann Beattie gave me one of my first blurbs. I want to thank her here finally in print since I was too shy to write and thank her back then.
Construction workers: Macarena Hernández, Yvette DeChávez, Erasmo Guerra, Ruth Béhar, Norma Alarcón, Dennis Mathis,
Liliana Valenzuela.
Good Cents: Nely Galán, Tracy Boyer, Marie Silverman. Good Sense: Ida Roldán.
Feng Shui Expert: Gayle Elliott.
Literary Curanderas: Dr. Sonia Saldívar Hull and Dr. María Herrera Sobek. Art Duendes: Tey Mariana Nunn and Cesereo Moreno.
Contractors: Dr. Tey Diana Rebolledo and Dr. Carla Trujillo.
Home Team San Antonio: It takes a village to move a writer. My thanks as always to Bill Sánchez, Alejandro Sánchez, Roger Solís, Josephine (Josie) F. Garza, Macarena Hernández, Ray Santisteban, Natalia Treviño, Miguel García, Jessica Fuentes, Irma Carolina Rubio, Juanita Chávez, Daniel Gamboa, Dave the Cowboy Chávez, Nancy Barohn, Roger Vásquez, Ann Van Pelt.
Equipo México: Ernesto Espinoza López, Eunice Chávez Muñoz, Francisco Ramírez Arzolar, Benjamin Huerta García, Rodolfo Ybarra, Cyndy Severson, and especially madrina Mary Katherine Wainwright, who nominated me for the San Miguel Writers’ Conference 2011. Brujas: Diana Phillips and Gaby Vidrio. House midwife: Susan Rensberger. Divina Providencia House Seller: Karen Reyes.
Home Inspection: Josie F. Garza, Macarena Hernández, Ito Romo, Liliana Valenzuela, Gayle Elliott, Norma Alarcón, Susan Bergholz, Ruth Béhar, Charlie Hall.
Foundation Work: David Kepes, Susan Bergholz, Bill Sánchez, Roland Mazuca, Orlando Bolaños, Olivia Doerge Mena, the Guadalupe Cultural Arts Center, Eve Porter, K. T. Whitehead, David Rodríguez, John Phillip Santos, Richard Blanco, Ruth Béhar, Josie Garza, I’rene Lara Silva, Moises Silva, Kristin Naca, Francisco Aragón, Kathy Sosa, Miryam Bujanda, Cynthia Pérez, Dr. Ellen Riojas Clark, and Ramiro Salazar.
Animal Wranglers: Yvette Benavides, David Martin Davies, Christianna Davies, Betty Padilla Beck, Debra Múñoz-Bratina, Rebecca Martínez, Monica Riojas Wozniak, Macarena Hernández.
Documentation: Visual—Thanks to all the photographers who gave permission for us to use their images. See the illustration credits for the long list of people I am indebted to. A special thanks to Diana Solís, Lourdes Portillo, Ester Hernández, Josie F. Garza. Audio—My thanks to Scott Cresswell and Daniel Garcia for guiding me through the audio recording of this book. It was a lot of work, but a lot of fun.
Archivists: Josie F. Garza, Roxanne Rose Peña, Bibi Lobo, and especially Ray Santisteban.
Landscapers: Cassandra Pappas and Stephanie Ross, who designed this book exquisitely.
Architect: Robin Desser, who gave me a wonderful blueprint and inspiration as the house went up. Thank you, corazón de melón, for your ojitos. Gracias is due as well to Robin’s assistant, the diligent, ever efficient Jennifer Kurdyla, for custom, quality craftsmanship.
All-Around Handypersons: Amor, gratitud, y más amor a las hermanas de mi corazón, Josie F. Garza and Macarena Hernández, who worked weekends, evenings, and holidays on this book as lovingly and tenaciously as if it were their very own. ¡Qué suerte la mía!
Madrina de las Letras: la Santa Susan Bergholz, a candle with a flame like a conflagration. Eres mi protectora. Bendita sea.
To all, those here with me now and those who are spirit, my friends, teachers, and ancestors, who opened the path that I might be here this moment, gracias.
Virgen de Guadalupe, estoy aquí para cumplir.
Illustration Credits
Unless otherwise noted, all photographs are from the author’s personal collection. We have tried to identify all copyright holders; in case of an oversight and upon notification to the publisher, corrections will be made in subsequent printings.
fm2.1, 32.1: Photograph by Diana Solís
fm3.1: Photograph by Diana Solís
1.2: © 2015 Dennis Mathis. All rights reserved. [email protected]
1.5: Beatriz Badikian-Gartler
4.1: José Luis Rivera-Barrera, Enamoramiento, 1985, carved mesquite, San Antonio Museum of Art, purchased with funds provided by the Robert J. Klerberg Jr. and Helen C. Kleberg Foundation, 97.7. Image courtesy San Antonio Museum of Art. Photograph by Al Rendón.
5.1: Used with permission from Pantheon Books, a division of Penguin Random House. Jacket design by Peter Mendelsund.
6.1: Norma Alarcón
6.2: Photograph courtesy of Kathy Sosa
8.4: Norma Alarcón
8.7: Ana Castillo
12.1: Rubén Guzmán
13.2: Rubén Guzmán
14.1: D.R. © 2015 Mariana Yampolsky Cultural Foundation, Mexico
15.1: Superstock
16.1: © Enrique Cisneros
18.4: © Enrique Cisneros
18.5: © Enrique Cisneros
18.6: © Enrique Cisneros; (18.7) La Gitana, 1920, Louis Kronberg © Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Boston, MA, USA/Bridgeman Images
18.7: Franco Mondini-Ruiz
18.8: Rolando Briseño; (bottom) Anne Wallace
18.10: From the personal collection of David Zamora Casas, photograph by Mary Jesse Garza
18.11: Joan Frederick
18.12: Terry Ybáñez, Emma Tenayuca Mural, Kwik Wash, S. Presa and Vance St., San Antonio, TX
18.13: Courtesy of Angel Rodríguez Díaz
19.1: Alma López
19.2: Norma Alarcón
19.4: Norma Alarcón
20.1: © San Antonio Express-News/Zuma Wire
20.2: Photograph courtesy of Phyllis Browning Company
21.1: Altar Para Los Hombres, Terry Ybáñez, formerly owned by S. Cisneros
21.2: © 2015 Tina Dickey
22.3: © Enrique Cisneros
22.4: Procession, Day of the Dead, photograph © by Joan Frederick
23.1: © Enrique Cisneros
23.2: Ted Dvoracek
24.1: Robert Yabeck
26.1: © 2015 Josephine F. Garza
29.1: Getty Images
30.1: Museo Franz Mayer Collection; painting of Sebastiana Inés Josefa de San Agustín, oil on canvas, Nueva España
32.2: © 2015 Dennis Mathis. All rights reserved. [email protected]
32.3: Photograph by Ted Dvoracek
32.6: Photograph courtesy of Phyllis Browning Company
32.7: Photograph by Ray Santisteban
33.1 Photograph by Addison Doty
34.2: Courtesy of Ester Hernández
34.3: Ray Santisteban
37.1: © Xodalt Films & Video
39.1: Photograph by Peter Rad, for The New York Times Style Magazine
41.2: © Robert Kaiser
epl.1: © 2015 Josephine F. Garza
The following pieces first appeared in these publications:
Elle: “Vivan Los Muertos” (October 1991)
Granta (Chicago): “Ofrenda for My Mother” (December 2009)
House & Garden: “Que Vivan Las Colores” (April 2002)
Los Angeles Times: “An Ofrenda for My Father” (October 26, 1997) and “Un Poquito de tu Amor” (February 22, 1998)
Los Angeles Times Book Review: “My Wicked Wicked Ways” from My Wicked Wicked Ways (Knopf, 1992), first printed as “Poem as Preface” (September 6, 1992)
The New York Times: “Who Wants Stories Now” (March 14, 1993) and “To Seville, with Love” (November 16, 2003)
The New York Times Magazine: “Chavela Vargas” (December 28, 2012)
Tonantzin: “Luis Omar Salinas” (January 1984)
The Washington Post Book World: “Marguerite Duras” (February 2005)
Many of the stories were originally published in the following:
“Eduardo Galeano” from Introduction to Days and Nights of Love and War by Eduardo Galeano (Monthly Review Press, 2000)
“Mercè Rodoreda” from Introduction to Camellia Street by Mercè Rodoreda (Graywolf, 1993)
“The House on Mango’s Street’s 10th Birthday” from The House on Mango Street 10th Anniversary Edition (Vintage, 1993)
“El Pleito/The Quarrel” from Moctezuma’s Table: Rolando Briseno’s Mexican and Chicano Tablescapes by Rolando Briseno (Texas A&M University Press, 2010)
“Infinito Botánica” from High Pink Tex-Mex Fairy Tales by Franco Mondini Ruiz (Distributed Art Publishers, Inc., 2005)
“A House of My Own” from The House on Mango Street 25th Anniversary Edition (Vintage, 2006)
“Resurrections” from Have You Seen Marie? (Knopf, 2012)
A NOTE ABOUT THE AUTHOR
SANDRA CISNEROS was born in Chicago in 1954. She is the author of two novels, the internationally acclaimed The House on Mango Street and Caramelo, awarded the Premio Napoli, nominated for the Orange Prize, and shortlisted for the International IMPAC Dublin Literary Award.