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Relaciones internacionales.indb - HOMINES

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VOICELESS AND COLORLESS...<br />

There are decisive advantages in living outside the homeland for poor,<br />

dark-skinned women. For them it is worth risking savings, small possessions,<br />

and their own lives to reach literally the shore of the centre. Even<br />

if they link with other Dominicans living in Washington Heights, where<br />

they will be guided through the complexities of the system, these women’s<br />

first encounters—customs and immigration officials—will make them immediately<br />

aware that they are foreign, suspicious, unwanted. Gone will<br />

be the familiarity back home, the same one that placed these women in<br />

the back house. A woman in the big city is expected to move around on<br />

her own in search of a job and a living space. The roles of wife, daughter,<br />

mother are redefined so that they become secondary: without a job that<br />

brings in money she can not provide for her children or family back home.<br />

In Alvarez’s ¡Yo!, Consuelo’s daughter is one of the many thousands of<br />

Dominican women who make it to New York:<br />

Ruth had made it to Puerto Rico on a rowboat, then on to Nueva York<br />

where she worked at a restaurant at night and at a private home as a maid<br />

during the day. Every month, Ruth sent home money along with a letter<br />

someone in the village read to Consuelo. Every few months the Codetel<br />

man came running through town, ‘International call!’ Consuelo would be<br />

out of breath by the time she arrived at the telephone trailer to hear her<br />

daughter’s small voice trapped in the wires. ‘How are you, Mamá And<br />

my baby Wendy’ (Yo 97-98)<br />

She learns that everything is negotiated and this skill will assure her<br />

survival in this hostile—because of its strangeness and perception of the<br />

other—environment. She will take advantage of night school, second and<br />

third jobs, special or new training, facilities such as daycare centers, second<br />

language learning. This new world that suddenly opens up for women,<br />

according to Oliva M. Espín, will directly affect their sexuality:<br />

Frequently, newly encountered sex-role patterns in the ‘host culture’ combined<br />

with greater access to paid employment, create for women the possibility<br />

to live a new way of life. Some women become employed outside<br />

the home for the first time after the migration. Many of them encounter<br />

new opportunities for education. All of them are confronted with the<br />

alternative meanings of womanhood provided by observing the lives of<br />

women in the host country. (4)<br />

Working-class women in Alvarez’s novels are “protected” by their<br />

employers who from the start arrange all the paperwork necessary to bring<br />

them to the United States, and who continue to provide for them as long as<br />

they agree to serve and stay exactly in the same place they were in back in<br />

the Dominican Republic. While Primi in ¡Yo! is the perfect servant—forever<br />

grateful of having been sent for by Doña Laura and Don Carlos to<br />

serve them in New York as she did back home—, her daughter Sarita will<br />

see this relationship for what it truly is: a class exploitation where her<br />

326<br />

Vol. XX, Núm. x - xxxxx de 2005 • <strong>HOMINES</strong> •

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