Intro: A Memory From High School
When I was in high school, I wrote something in my journal after a quiet but meaningful moment at lunch. I didn’t realize then that it was the beginning of a deeper understanding of my mom—and the strength she carried.
Excerpt from My High School Journal (Age 15):
Today at lunch the teacher who teaches Chinese (I’m not sure of her name) asked if she could sit at our table for lunch. It was weird because we really weren’t talking to her, but I just felt badly about the whole situation and tried to think of something I could relate to her so she’d feel more comfortable. I brought up the question if she had ever seen or read The Joy Luck Club, which is this movie I had just rented about four Chinese women who came to the U.S. and have their own devastating stories from China.
She was really pleased that I tried to talk to her and it was nice to make her smile and listen to her thoughts on the film. I must say that I feel rather sympathetic to her—I could only imagine how difficult it would be to make friends at HB, especially since there’s only one teacher for her subject.
I guess I also sympathize because of my mom. I can imagine my mom having difficulty making friends with other teachers if she were one, because she isn’t as well-versed in English. You can really see how good her intentions are in the Chinese teacher’s eyes. I just wanted to hug her and tell her, ‘All in time.’
I have so much respect for the Chinese teacher because she took a risk coming to this country… and I must say that I have a lot of respect for my mom. I can’t believe she was willing to take the risk of coming to a foreign country solely because she loved my dad THAT much. It’s such a beautiful thing, if you really think about it.
Now I See the Full Picture
At 15, I was just starting to glimpse the kind of strength it takes to start over somewhere new. I saw it in the Chinese teacher’s quiet courage, but I didn’t fully grasp that I was living with it every day.
Now, as an adult, I see it clearly: my mom was never just “supportive”—she was bold. She was decisive. She made the hardest decision of her life, not for herself, but for me.
She left Brazil at around the same age I am now. She didn’t speak English. My dad wanted to stay, but my mom believed that raising her kids in the U.S. would give us a better future. So she chose the unknown. She walked into a world where she often felt like the outsider—but never once let that stop her from building a home, raising a family, and planting the seeds of strength in her children.
We lived in an all-white neighborhood. She was a dark-skinned immigrant, with an accent, navigating it all with grace. And even though I saw her face obstacles, I never saw her shrink. She taught me what it means to stand tall, even when the world doesn’t see you.
Her favorite line to me was always: “You can be anything you set your mind to.”
She didn’t just say it. She proved it.
The Full Circle
At 24, I moved to China to teach English.
I was suddenly the foreigner. I struggled with the culture shock. I felt the isolation of being different. And yet, I also felt equipped to carry myself through it—with empathy, confidence, and quiet resolve.
Because I had watched my mom do it first.
The full circle isn’t just that I moved abroad too. It’s that my mom’s internationalism shaped my entire worldview. People crossing borders, taking leaps, choosing uncertainty in pursuit of something better—that became normal to me. She normalized what had never been normalized for her.
And now I realize: it’s not just the strength to move and be somewhere new. It’s the strength to stay rooted in your values once you get there.
When other moms were bringing Rice Krispie treats to school, mine brought brigadeiro and beijinho. She showed up with her accent, her traditions, her authenticity—never trying to blend in. She was unapologetically herself. Brave. Values-driven. And because of that, I grew up never asking, “Should I fit in?”—only asking, “What do I believe in?”
Her example shaped my narrative.
Why would I be afraid of standing out… when she never was?
This Mother’s Day
I’m honoring my mom not just for being a mother, but for being a woman of immense courage. She gave me strength by living it. She gave me permission to believe in myself by never apologizing for who she was.
She didn’t just raise me.
She shaped me.
And everything I am—every place I’ve gone—is rooted in her love and her fierce sense of what’s right.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.
Your strength lives in me, every day.
