Dominicana

A man doesn’t know what he thinks until a woman makes him think it.

Don’t forget about us. No lights are too bright to forget where you come from. Remember. Remember.

How many women get to choose who to marry and can truly dictate their own life? As God is my witness, my daughter will have choices.

Think of your Tía Clara—her daughter married a man who works in New York, and every month he sends the family money. He never fails. They have a cement floor and a new bathroom.

Dreaming is good to do when you're sleeping. But, as long as we're awake, nobody wants to go hungry.

To be angry and not have the power to control your life. To not feel safe. To depend on a person who reminds you how they can hurt you, even kill you, at their whim. I understand.

If a person seems inflexible, yield, then slip in sideways and get what you want.

When you fall in love, you have to play it out even if everyone calls you crazy. That’s why they call it falling. We have no control over it.

When Juan gets mad, it's as if my dependence on him fuels the transformation in his body from concern, to anger, to fury. The veins in his neck swell, his eyes bulge, and he yells, You want trouble for us? His voice always rips through me. No, sir. Juan slaps me across the face so hard, blood pools between my teeth. That's so you remember, when I say not to do something, you have to respect it. You hear me? I look at my feet. I hold back my tears, slump my shoulders, and retreat just enough to show deference. I have learned a lot from growing up with animals.

I may not have a chair to sit on, he often says, but I have my word.

I és així com torno a ser una nena altre cop i sento l'impuls d'amagar l'arròs cru, les sabatilles, els penjadors, els cinturons i tot el que la Mamá pugui trobar per fer-me mal. Però no puc amagar les seves paraules, que fan més mal que un fuet.

Men can only perform like men, mama always says, when women are doing everything. We're invisible little workers so they can puff out their chests.

My sweet, hollow Dominicana will keep all of my secrets: she has no eyes, no lips, no mouth.

Mamá has lived long enough to learn a man doesn’t know what he thinks until a woman makes him think it.

To love you has blinded me from paying attention to my goals. Somehow love has made me soft and stupid.

Love, love, love. What good is it, if it can’t put food on the table.

I don’t care if I die right there. I want him to thrust inside of me forever. Let this be our last day. Let us die right here.

Dreaming is good to do when you’re sleeping. But as long as we’re awake, nobody wants to go hungry.

Welcome, Anita, to the club of mothers. Only we know what it’s like to carry another human being. At first it’s the size of a pea, then a grape, an apple, an avocado, then it’s as big as a papaya. To think something so big comes out of something so small. When I had my first one, ugh, I thought it would kill me, but I pushed and pushed, ready to die for the baby that I already loved like I’ve never loved anything else before. It’s extraordinary to stand on the edge of life and death. You’ll see. You’ll see.

I look at my feet. I hold back my tears, slump my shoulders, and retreat just enough to show deference. I have learned a lot from growing up with animals.

Puffer fish inflate into a ball when they feel threatened as a warning to predators. The males work endlessly on designing their territories to attract a mate. Burrowing diligently with their fins, reorganizing shells. They work twenty-four hours and many many days without taking a break. The males have many mates and reign over multiple female territories. Once the female is in his territory and tries to leave he will bite her. The female is only allowed a visitor if the visiting fish mutes its bright blue, yellow, and orange spots so that the king puffer fish doesn’t feel threatened. You get what I’m saying, Ana?

Leave wreckage by the roadside. Burn all decayed tissue. Tightrope from which we emerge. —DAWN LUNDY MARTIN, GOOD STOCK STRANGE BLOOD

César picks it up and pulls out a chicken by its neck. Welcome to America, he says. He hands it to me. I look into its glassed-over eyes. . . . I've held plenty of chickens before, plucked, chopped, and cooked them too. But here, I want to save the chicken from its fate.