In 2003, before I had an iPod, my uncle gave me a CD player for Christmas. With this heavenly gift, I could escape my parents’ screaming matches as I sound bathed in Avril Lavigne’s Let Go, OutKast’s Speakerboxxx/The Love Below, and Maná’s Revolución de Amor. I was elated — until I realized my CD player and I were destined to break up. After all, even at 10, I knew all my nice presents would end up with my Mexican cousins que “no tenían tanto.”
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Though I can now see my parents were doing the right thing by making us share our resources, I didn’t feel that way at the time. I resented my tías and primos in Mexico and was mad at my parents. I felt this bitterness for years — like I couldn't have nice things because of them. Now that I'm older, though, I understand the opposite is true: Because of my family, I have nice things. Giving back whatever we had was a way to take care of the people who supported my parents and me. It was never a way for my parents to punish me.
Of course, plenty of Latine people send gadgets, clothes, shoes, and more to their homelands — often paying extra for international shipping or an additional bag at the airport. And while many happily share their abundance, some share my frustration.
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"Giving back whatever we had was a way to take care of the people who supported my parents and me. It was never a way for my parents to punish me."
Natalie Arroyo Camacho
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Colombian therapist Cristina Castrillon, LMFT, came to the United States at 4; she grew up with a single mom who often sent remittances, through money and goods, back home to Colombia. “I saw how much my mom was working to make ends meet for us here, and it was difficult to see how much she was already sacrificing,” Castrillon says. “And then to see her having to buy more and send more, that was really difficult for me to understand because I didn't grow up that way.”
Being raised in the U.S. meant assimilating to its egocentric, individualistic culture. As such, it was almost too easy for us to ask ourselves and our parents why we had to give up our stuff or why our parents had to work harder to provide for adults in another country.
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“In this very individualistic, capitalistic world, we didn't get enough of that collectivistic identity and culture,” Castrillon adds. “We don’t really help one another, so that’s why I think it was hard for me to understand as a child.”
Every year, my nuclear family caravaned to Colima, a small state in western Mexico, with at least four other families. Each familial unit packed their cars with TVs, suitcases, boxes, and snacks to take across the border. Often, my dad had to remove the back seats of our SUV so we could pile in boxes — which we’d lie on top of (often uncomfortably) during the 36-hour drive. I didn’t understand why we had to deal with the inconvenience instead of flying.
When you see how much effort your family puts in to deliver these items, it can be frustrating. Nicaraguan therapist Valeska Cosci, LCSW, confesses this practice is still sometimes hard for her to grasp as an adult. In 2018, she visited Nicaragua with her son and mom, who said she was taking “some things” to her cousin back in the Central American country. “We pull up to LAX, and my 70-year-old mom is carrying a 50-pound duffel bag. I'm like, ‘What the hell? Who's gonna carry this? Did they give you money to pay to travel with this?’”
This is where the mixed emotions set in. First, we feel guilty for daring to think it’s inconvenient to transport goods thousands of miles across international borders. Second, we may also feel ashamed of what we can give. “I often felt a little guilty because we were giving my family in Nicaragua our used clothes,” Cosci says. “I felt funny giving my used hand-me-downs, but I realized people are still grateful. And my mom would always say that it's important that we give as a family so they know where it's coming from. I’ve come to understand and appreciate that now, too.”
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"I saw how much my mom was working to make ends meet for us here, and it was difficult to see how much she was already sacrificing. And then to see her having to buy more and send more, that was really difficult for me to understand because I didn't grow up that way."
Cristina Castrillon, LMFT
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It might’ve been difficult for Castrillon, Cosci, and me to put a positive spin on giving our objects away, but that’s not the case for everyone who sends stuff back to the motherland. For instance, licensed bilingual psychologist, speaker, and writer Lisette Sanchez, PhD, sees this as a generous act. She happily sent, and still sends, clothes and shoes to her family in Mexico.
“I had a different experience because my dad’s family was on the border, which was a three-hour drive from our house,” Sanchez says. “Plus, they started to sell clothes when I was older, so I had this perspective of, ‘I got you. I got this,’ and [I’m] intentional about what I send back. Like if I have good quality shoes, those are going to my family in Mexico.”
Dr. Sanchez knows it might be more convenient and certainly cheaper to drop off her unwanted items at donation centers, but it’s not a matter of doing what’s easy. “I want to give back because my family did so,” she says. “This is my way of repaying my family, almost. For me, it's very community-based and community-oriented. We help each other out like that with everything.”
I’m someone who needs to see the bigger picture, so when my parents yanked things out of my hands and gave them to my cousins — without much context or explanation — the practice didn’t sit right with me. Maybe things would’ve been different if they explained how it would help our family in Mexico.
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"I often felt a little guilty because we were giving my family in Nicaragua our used clothes. I felt funny giving my used hand-me-downs, but I realized people are still grateful."
Valeska Cosci, LCSW
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Cosci lets her son come to the decision to donate on his own, but she provides him with guidance — like when he doesn’t want to give away his Air Jordan sneakers that don’t fit him anymore. “It's a pair of shoes he really likes, but I'm still gently working on that,” she says. “When we went to Nicaragua six years ago, he saw that children his age are working there. So I remind him, ‘They have less than us, and they might really love your Jordans. It’ll make them feel good and they also deserve nice things. They also deserve to feel good.’”
Dr. Sanchez emphasizes that this will take more finessing with younger children. “Maybe kids don’t understand the concept of philanthropy, but you know what they do understand? Toys. If you were to say, ‘You have five toys. They have one. If you were to share with them, you could still have four toys, and now they would have one, too. Would you like to do that?’” It might take some reminding, but kids generally get it eventually.
As far as reframing this for yourself, Castrillon says it’s simple — even though it might not always be easy. Remember: At the absolute worst, you’re sending things to your homeland so that a little piece of you is there. At best, you’re helping the people who made sacrifices — however big or small — for you to be in a position to give back.
These days, I love sending stuff to Mexico. For one, it’s a fabulous opportunity to declutter my apartment and make more space in my closet.
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"I want to give back because my family did so,” she says. “This is my way of repaying my family, almost. For me, it's very community-based and community-oriented. We help each other out like that with everything."
Lisette Sanchez, PhD
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Additionally, it's a fun conversation-starter with my family. My tía will always say, "Mira, mami, son tus pantalones. Se me ven bien, ¿verdad?" “Sí, tía,” le digo, smiling. The joy she radiates from wearing a pair of pants that would otherwise collect dust in my closet — that's the dictionary definition of priceless.
But more than this, sending these packages has become my way of thanking my family for reminding me that I’m a collectivist to my core. My family has been sending ropa a México since before I was born, and I can’t think of a better way to honor their generosity than to keep the tradition going.