This interview continues my Soy/Somos conversation with Latinos in the US and others living a hybrid life. This is who I am. This is who we are. If you'd like to receive future Soy/Somos posts, please contact me here.
Carmelish and I met on the screen in our respective cities of Providence and New York. Carmelish Carrasco is a Clinical Social Worker in an urban high school by day and helps youth and their families in her evening job. It was a delight to speak with Carmelish, sensitive and irreverent—a shot of candela (which means fire).
Carmelish, in this Soy/Somos series my aim is to show Americans in their rich diversity. Tell me who you are!
Who am I? I ask myself this question often! At 28 I feel old because people seem to be doing way more than me. Bueno, vamos a averiguarlo juntas. Let's figure this out together
I was born in Providence to Dominican parents. When my dad was 6 or 7, Trujillo was assassinated, and there were other struggles in the DR after that. My parents lived through all that. So coming here from the DR was culture shock.
When Dominicanos come to the US, first stop is New York. When I visit the DR they ask me, ¿Y tu eres de Nueva York? And I say, No! I'm from Rhode Island. And they say, Where's that?
FAMILIA
I have half brothers, a blended family, y tengo una hermana de crianza. My mother is the oldest of 8 and my father the second oldest of 5. I have aunts that I call mom. My cousins are like my siblings.
During Covid, not seeing my family, I felt a sense of isolation. I lost my grandmother in Florida during Covid. This grandmother, my dad's mother, lived in Providence when I was 7 or 8. She was bougie in what she wore. Coach from head to toe. "Don't bother to learn to cook," she'd tell me. "Study and you'll be just fine. Do new things."
How often do you go to the DR?
Carmelish with her mom and dad. “My mom is my best friend, ‘my ride or die.’”
When I was a kid, I'd go to the DR every six months. My parents said, our daughter will be raised in the United States but go to college in the Dominican Republic. Now I'm adulting—paying bills, getting gas, working all the time. I don't go as often.
My grandparents on my mom's side live in a farm they can no longer care for. Now it's just land. I love being with them. Going to the hill where there is a pear tree and sitting down and looking at the skyline. Con un cafecito y un pan, o un jugo de cereza.
I went to a very old public school in Providence that is still standing. My parents put me in a private school in fifth grade because I was "not learning enough." For high school they placed me in a charter school with smaller classes. I struggled in school until I went to college. In college I finally took the academic reins in my hands.
My dad is a janitor. Mom's job was in factories, working in jewelry when Providence was the jewelry capital of the world.
My dad says that life is fifty percent hard work and fifty percent public relations. I've remembered the public relations part. "How are you? What's going on?" I'll greet my teachers at work. "I'm going to Dunk'in. Want some?"
The Education of a Social Worker
Carmelish, why a social worker? Tell me what led to that.
I have an MSW and a LCSW license. I am a Clinical Social Worker. Went to Rhode Island College, one of the state schools. I was able to go for free because my dad worked there as janitor. He's still at RIC, has been there for more than twenty years.
In my undergraduate work I started with Health Care Administration. I'd seen many things happen with my brother who is a veteran. When he came back, he had difficulty getting services. I did my internship and finished the degree but decided it was not for me. A professor who was a kind of mentor suggested I consider social work. So I went information gathering, added an extra year to get that second degree. Two degrees for the price of one—free.
I did an internship at a nursing home, and I loved it. My mentor there was wonderful. I could be myself, snarky occasionally, and still be okay. But one is on call 24/7. And you're responsible for everyone's life. My mentor told me, I don't want this for you.
I didn't care about money. I cared about service and quality and living a tranquil life.
A nun at the nursing home overheard me talking to a patient and told my supervisor I had raw talent to be a social worker. I decided to go for a Masters. I got a Grad Assistantship (It's a kind of TA job) so I was guaranteed that my Master’s in Social Work would be free.
WORKING
In my first job out of grad school I was doing intensive clinical therapy in a Youth and Family unit. I went into my clients' homes, sometimes to recitals and such. It's called Enhanced Outpatient Therapy (EOS). You integrate yourself into your client's life and their family's life—not overstepping and making sure they are not overstepping. It's a hard thing to do.
My oldest client is 19. After a certain period, they age out of EOS. This is an evening job that I still hold. I also work at a high school, a full-time job that provides me with benefits. I get out of school at the end of the school day. As soon as it hits 4 p.m. I head to my EOS job. I can't support myself with one job.
Can you give me a sense of what it means to work in an urban high school?
I put out small fires before they become big fires. It's an ever-evolving system, and I deal with many other hands in the pot who don't have a clinical background. I am sometimes asked why I don't take the young person to their therapy appointments. You have to set boundaries. Students call teachers at 8 p.m. This puts teachers in a predicament. How can they take care of their own families appropriately if they don't set limits? I don't answer calls after 4 or 5 p.m. My other clients need my undivided attention.
My biggest goal is to help kids identify and pursue what they want to work on in our sessions and letting them know I'll be there for them. Providing structure is important. "This is what I am going to do," takes away fifty percent of the pressure they feel. With loosey goosey guidance, you get other behaviors.
In an urban school, becoming trauma informed is essential, understanding that kids may be traumatized from past experiences. Past trauma may lead to problems in school. As an example, if a kid is manipulating, this may be a survival mechanism.
FIRST GENERATION AMERICAN
Carmelish, let's switch gears a little bit. As a first generation American have you experienced special challenges?
I'm glad you asked this. First generation Americans do have a special burden. I help translate for my parents, take them to doctors' appointments, figure out things online. Small things, paying bills, filling out applications. My dad, "Mira que tu sabes el inglés mejor que yo...." Some were hard things I didn't know how to do. It's a level of parentification.
Friends of mine, first generation Americans, we all struggle with this.
What do you see good about this country?
In the United States you have access to many things. Not only jobs, but the importance of an education. In some other nations it's a privilege to go to school. Here, it is a right.
I don't believe you have to go to college to be successful. Not everyone is made for college, and that is okay. One of my dad's friends is an electrician. He is now retired and is living comfortably and enjoying this new stage of his life. An uncle of mine is a master plumber, works for Miami Dade.
Among people I know, a college degree is debt. There are young people who don't use their degree then have tremendous debt.
How do you not let your American culture displace your Dominican culture?
We need to change the perception that America is a one-stop shop. My parents are proud to be Dominican. They read to me in Spanish as a child, often little bible books. I watched novelas with my grandmother for days when I was 5. In schools I played with kids who knew Spanish, and my parents took me back to the DR.
I watch the news in Spanish. We yell in Spanish. If I want to teach my dog something, I say, Mira, no hagas eso. He pays attention.
My music: I listen to Facundo Cabral and Juan Luis Guerra. Bad Bunny just won a Latin Grammy. His song "El apagón," is fantastic. You can find it. Listen to it.
In the DR I am more American. Here I am more Dominican. What is my place? I identify with Facundo Cabral's song, "No soy de aquí, ni soy de allá."
Dear reader,
Immigrants and first-generation Americans often experience this feeling of "where do I belong." ¿Aquí o allá? Is it important to align yourself with one culture, or should we embrace all that we are?
With all the need around the world, can we change the perception that the United States is a one-stop shop?