Even as Anita becomes increasingly affected by the political turmoil around her, her life does, to some extent, proceed as usual. This is particularly apparent in the adolescent milestones she reaches, such as falling in love for the first time and having her first kiss, as well as experiencing puberty. Through Anita’s detailed account of her changing body and the emotional turmoil of adolescence, Before We Were Free makes the case that life—and the process of growing up—doesn’t stop for people just because they’re living in a politically turbulent time. This backdrop does, however, make growing up much more dangerous and stressful than it would be otherwise.
When the novel opens in early November 1960, Anita hasn’t yet turned 12. And though her narration shows that she’s innocent and naïve, it also paints her as being on the cusp of beginning her coming-of-age journey. At this point, Anita scoffs at her older sister, Lucinda, for spending so much time worrying about her hair or her clothes, which Anita finds silly. However, it’s also telling that when Anita’s family gets new neighbors—including Sam, a boy Anita’s age—Anita lies and tells Sam that she’s already 12. In her desire to impress Sam, Anita makes herself seem older by projecting an air of maturity and poise. At this early stage in the novel—when Anita doesn’t yet have a full grasp of the political situation—being older seems like a good thing. But at the same time, Anita’s diary entries from this time period are charmingly immature. She’s madly in love with Sam and, with the help of many exclamation points, agonizes over whether he’s as interested in her as she is in him, or if her parents can tell she’s in love. Her suspicion that everyone can tell she’s in love is a natural expression of normal youthful selfishness; since Anita is the center of her own universe and her feelings are so obvious to her, she believes they must be obvious to everyone else. Puberty, in this regard, is anxiety inducing, but the perceived villains are only trusted adults who might embarrass her—or, in a worst-case scenario, forbid her from playing with Sam.
But while growing up can be anxiety inducing in and of itself, the novel shows that growing up can take on even more weight in the midst of political turmoil. For example, Anita learns that the Dominican Republic’s dictator, Trujillo, regularly courts and rapes young girls—and, even worse, he starts targeting Anita’s 15-year-old sister Lucinda. With this, Anita realizes the danger of becoming a young woman; she dreads getting her period now, because while she once thought that getting older would be glamorous, she now sees her maturing body as a threat to her safety. In other words, growing older no longer seems to present fun new opportunities—now, it seems that growing older makes her a target for evil men. This is why, when Anita starts her period, she does everything in her power to hide it. Suddenly, Anita no longer wants to grow up and look mature to impress Sam; she wants to remain a child so that she’ll be safe from predatory men and so that she won’t have to acknowledge the horrific adult realities around her.
But living under threat from a violent and repressive regime means that Anita cannot put off adulthood for long. After Papi and his friends assassinate Trujillo, Anita and Mami have to go into hiding in the walk-in closet of an Italian diplomat, Mr. Mancini. There, in many ways, Anita starts to bridge the gap between childhood and adulthood and become the very thing she once despised: a teenager. Even as she spends her days worrying about her own fate and that of her father, she also spends a lot of time playing with her hair in the bathroom, wondering if a ponytail will impress the Mancinis’ son Oscar. She delights in the game that she and Oscar devise, in which they pass a queen of hearts card back and forth in the books that Mrs. Mancini brings for her, while fixating on her memory of Oscar kissing her on the cheek the day before she went into hiding. With everything else going on, pining after Oscar—a product of Anita’s growing interest in romance and a mark of her increasing maturity—makes life more livable. With this, the novel suggests that even in a difficult political period, puberty doesn’t just have to be only a source of fear and anxiety. Rather, puberty and the changes that come with it can provide an emotional escape from a terrifying reality.
Related Themes from Other Texts
Adulthood, Childhood, and Fear ThemeTracker
Adulthood, Childhood, and Fear Quotes in Before We Were Free
“Are they really policemen?” I keep asking Mami. It doesn’t make any sense. If the SIM are policemen, secret or not, shouldn’t we trust them instead of being afraid of them? But all Mami will say is “Shhh!” Meanwhile, we can’t go to school because something might happen to us. “Like what?” I ask. Like what Chucha said about people disappearing? Is that what Mami worries will happen to us? “Didn’t Papi say we should carry on with normal life?”
Not that I think of Sam as a boyfriend, which I’m not allowed to have anyway. Mami doesn’t approve of my being around any boys who aren’t related to me. But since my cousins moved away, the rules have both tightened and loosened in odd ways. I can’t talk about the SIM’s visit or my cousins’ leaving for New York City, but I can have Sam for a best friend even if he is a boy.
“Doris, put the lid on the sugar bowl, por favor. There are so many flies.”
I look around for flies, but there are none I can see. Lorena has just come out from the kitchen with a tray to collect the empty coffee cups. Perhaps she scared them away.
Then, just like that, it dawns on me: my mother is speaking to Mrs. Washburn in code. She’s saying: We are being overheard; be quiet. It’s as if I’ve stepped into a room I’m not supposed to be in—but now that I’m inside, the door has disappeared. I feel the same way as when Lucinda told me how one day I, too, would get my period.
We are free! I want to cry out. But thinking about how the SIM raided our property, how Tío Toni had to disappear, how I have to erase everything in my diary, I know that Oscar is telling the truth. We’re not free—we’re trapped—the Garcías got away just in time! I feel the same panic as when the SIM came storming through our house.
“Suddenly, you have to be a big girl—”
“I am twelve, Mami!” I sigh and roll my eyes. Recently, if anyone talks to me as if I’m a little kid, I get mad. But I also feel sad that I’m not a little kid anymore and that I know as much as I do. I’ve written about these confused feelings in my diary, too, but this is one confusion that doesn’t get any clearer by writing about it.
Not even the thought of falling in love with Sam is a consolation anymore. Overnight, all boys (except for Papi and Tío Toni and Mundín) have become totally gross. Here’s an old lech flirting with my sister. Here are Oscar and Sam drinking liquor and throwing up. If only I could be like Joan of Arc, cut off my hair and dress like a boy, just to be on the safe side. Or even better, if only I could go backward to eleven, instead of forward to thirteen!
I lift the sheet and she looks down with a questioning expression. Then a knowing smile spreads on her lips. “Congratulations,” she says, leaning over and kissing me. “My baby sister’s a señorita.”
I don’t feel like a señorita. I feel more like a baby in wet diapers. And I don’t want to be a señorita now that I know what El Jefe does to señoritas.
I admit I feel mean participating in this scheme—but I also understand that our lives are in danger. A tip from Lorena could wipe us out. It’s so unfair to have to live in a country where you have to do stuff you feel bad about in order to save your life. It’s like Papi and Tío Toni planning to assassinate Mr. Smith when they know that murder is wrong. But what if your leader is evil and rapes young girls and kills loads of innocent people and makes your country a place where not even butterflies are safe?
“I think we’d better have the nurse look at you,” she says, taking my hand.
I don’t resist. I stand and walk with her. As we cross the front of the room, Charlie Price makes a circle motion in the air to Sammy, who grins as if he agrees.
I feel like screaming, I AM NOT CRAZY! But instead, I swallow that scream, and suddenly it’s very quiet inside me.
Today’s note was just to me. I guess from his hiding place, Mundín caught a glimpse of María de los Santos sitting in the gallery with some young fellow, and he wants to know what I know.
I couldn’t believe that Mundín was thinking about a girlfriend at a time like this!
But then... I’m thinking a lot about Oscar! As Chucha would say, the hunchback laughing at the camel’s hump!
But now that Papi is dead, it doesn’t seem so scary to die. Sometimes, I think it’s scarier to be alive, especially when you feel that you’ll never be as happy and carefree as when you were a little kid. But I keep remembering Chucha’s dream. She saw us sprouting wings, flying up and away. It has to mean more than our coming to the United States. After all, as Chucha herself would say, what good is it to escape captivity only to be imprisoned in your own misery?
What I see as I look down aren’t angels but butterflies, the arm swings connecting to the leg swings like a pair of wings, our heads poking out in between! I’m sure if Chucha were here, she would say they are a sign. Four butterflies from Papi, reminding me to fly.
I close my eyes, but instead of making a wish, I think about Papi and Tío Toni and their friends who died to make us all free. The emptiness inside starts filling with a strong love and a brave pride.
Okay, Papi, I say, I promise I’ll try.
