The Caregiving Role of Immigrant Children

Seema Pothini

“I am the child of immigrants here in Minnesota.”

That might seem like a political statement today — a precursor to fear, perhaps, or a recognition of the weight of these times on those of us who have become first generation adults, like many others in this country were at some point in their legacy.

But in this case, it was spoken by a woman in the audience at a Racial Equity and Allyship conference where I was presenting. It was her introduction before asking me a question about speaking up when  hurtful or hateful comments are made in professional meetings. Her voice cracked as she said these words, and her eyes became misty. Her question was unrelated to the emotion she felt in that moment, but I understood, as a child of immigrants myself. 

Sometimes even saying that phrase reminds us of the sacrifices that have been made by our elders, and we are overcome with appreciation for the risks and hardships they took to move to a country for more potential. 

I asked her privately, after my presentation, what made her emotional. Her response: “I feel guilty being at this conference on a Saturday when I should be at my grandmother’s home helping her.” 

That inner conflict is so real and raw. This woman was learning how to be an ally and advocate for those who are marginalized, but she still felt like she was being selfish. I gave her a big hug and we problem-solved together.

I, too — like so many others in this country and this state — are children of immigrants. Many of us are in midlife, balancing careers, perhaps children and marriages, while also feeling responsibility — and guilt — for our important role as caregivers to parents and other elders in our lives.

I have friends who identify as Somali, Hmong, Latina, or Arab. We have in common a sense of responsibility for feeling that we are the ones who need to take care of our elderly parents because they sacrificed so much to come to the U.S. and provide for our family. We do not choose senior living or nursing home options, because we believe the responsibility should fall on us — especially as daughters. We sacrifice to fulfill that duty..

I work as an independent consultant. Recently, I received a great, last-minute professional opportunity. It required me to be somewhere at the time that I was supposed to bring my elderly mother to the dentist for a routine checkup. I tried to reschedule either option, but it was not possible in any timely way. 

I did my best to make them both happen, but my mother was 10 minutes late to her appointment, so it needed to be rescheduled. I was devastated that I had let my mom down. After I dropped my mother back home, I pulled over a few blocks away and cried in my car for messing up the appointment, even though my mom was appreciative of my efforts. 

Later, I told a friend about my feelings of guilt, and she simply asked, “Why didn’t you just call an Uber or Lyft to pick her up and bring her to the dentist?” 

I realized the cultural divide between my friend and I; in my mind, the very practical idea of utilizing a ride service could be seen as disrespectful or hurtful in my immigrant community.

Furthermore, my mom is very social, and fluently speaks English, but her accent sometimes presents a barrier for others, which leads to misinterpretation. I explained that I didn’t want to cause my mom to worry because I was putting  my work needs above the personal interaction with her.

My friend said I should not feel guilty. Easier said than done. I carried that guilt all day. What made me feel better was reading this magazine, picked up in a local drugstore, and realizing that so many of us women carry burdens that we see as blessings, but still weigh on us. 

My mom is an incredible woman with an immigration story that seems unbelievable because of the hardships she faced. It is her love and strength that fuel my desire to do whatever I can to take care of her in her elder years, even if it means driving for 20 minutes just to reprogram a remote so she can watch TV, or to drop off a half gallon of milk because she is worried about running out. I am serving between two worlds: the practical and the traditional. 

Sharing Your Stories?

With the caregiving discussions Minnesota Women’s Press is now hosting around the state, I could imagine a group of us sharing stories about the pressures we put on ourselves, or maybe even asking readers to submit anecdotes for your “Tapestry” section.

Anecdotes from people who are struggling with the responsibility and the privilege of being caregivers would be  insightful. An online community of support would be awesome as well.

There is a fine line between being honored to be able to care for our elders and also taking care of our own well being, while simultaneously feeling the weight of that honor. The power is being able to navigate the system in ways our elders cannot — and to ensure they don’t feel like they are being a burden to us since they sacrificed so much to give us the life we have.

Please share your comments below. If you want to be part of a caregiving discussion, contact community@womenspress.com to be alerted when one is planned; use “caregiver” in the subject line.