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some of my friends that, yeah, I go to school with my mom,” she says. “It’s definitely weird. But you get used to it.” Both Brito and Franco acknowledge that


their situation is unique, but for them, it is just the latest stop on a journey that’s been anything but ordinary. It began 20 years ago in Cuba, a country Brito doesn’t even remember, when Franco was forced into exile for chal- lenging the Communist regime. Their path wound its way through Miami, across the At- lantic to Paris, then back to Miami. When Brito was in high school she and her mother moved to Chicago, where both eventually found a home at Loyola. Through it all they have stuck together. And


now mother and daughter—together—will celebrate their college graduation this spring.


Enemy of the state When asked about the remarkable road


she’s traveled, Franco just flashes her charac- teristic smile and shrugs her shoulders. “Life is unpredictable,” she says. As a child growing up in El Cristo Oriente,


a small town on the outskirts of Santiago de Cuba, Franco couldn’t have imagined where her natural curiosity would one day lead her. Her education was centered on the ideals of the Communist Party, and teachers told her she should shun religion and hate the United States. In middle school she became a mem- ber of the Communist Youth Union, which instructed children to be “honest vigilantes,” informing the authorities of anything they saw at school, or even at home, that conflicted with the strict rules of Fidel Castro’s regime. But Franco was never content to accept these teachings at face value. When she was 13, Franco started asking


questions. She wondered why, for example, religion was considered taboo when so many beautiful churches dotted the landscape of Havana. One day, her curiosity got the best of her. She walked into a church and approached a priest, who shared with her the teachings of Catholicism. She went home excited to share her findings with her family only to be scolded by her grandmother, who made Franco prom- ise never to visit the church again. That didn’t stop Franco. She kept asking


questions about religion and politics, and when the answers didn’t match up with her own experiences, she became increasingly dis- illusioned with the Communist Party. During her final year of high school, she stood up at a meeting of the Communist Youth Union and


14 LOYOLA UNIVERSITY CHICAGO


“When you move to a new environment, there is always a time of integration . . . Those adaptations are difficult for everyone, but you know what? You get through.”


—TAMARA FRANCO


renounced her membership. “I gave back my card and said, ‘I am done. I am not ready to be consistent with what this card means to you,’” she recalls. Franco went on to attend college in Havana


City, where as a freshman she joined a group of likeminded young people who shared her desire to change Cuba’s oppressive govern- ment. She and her friends each wrote and signed letters to Castro, calling for changes like democratic elections, freedom of speech and religion, and the freedom to travel outside of Cuba. As a result she was expelled from the university, ending her first attempt to earn a college degree, and suffered through inter- rogations and intimidation at the hands of Cuba’s political police. Despite her family’s protests, Franco had


also continued attending church. After getting married and giving birth to her daughter, she began attending classes to prepare for baptism. At first she went alone, but she soon began bringing her infant daughter along. Police would sometimes follow her to church, making sure she was aware of their presence, even sitting at the end of the pew during Mass. But Franco refused to be intimidated. She followed through on her plans to have


Brito baptized and then, eventually, she too was baptized into the Catholic faith. Then one day, in March of 1997, every-


thing changed. The police came to Franco’s house and forced their way in. They gave her two choices: leave the country, or give up her daughter to be raised in the Communist system while she and her husband went to jail. “That was the ultimatum,” she says. “When they left, my decision was already made.”


Stranger in a strange land Franco made the only choice she could. In


May of 1997, she boarded a flight to Cancun, Mexico, with her husband and then three- year-old daughter. From there, they flew to Miami to begin a new life in America. Franco took a job as a tobacco maker—“I


was never good,” she admits—and started learning English. Eager to resume the educa- tion she began in Cuba, she started taking classes at a community college. But after separating from Brito’s father, Franco had to drop out of school and take a second job painting houses. The twists and turns of life took Franco


and Brito to new places, each one with new challenges. “When you move to a new


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