Review by New York Times Review
Guerrero's story is a variation on what we've been reading in the news. She was not caged, and her parents were already long-term residents in the United States when they were arrested. But she, too, is a casualty of American immigration policy. As her speech reached its climax, she screamed into the microphone, about the effects of her family's separation: "It is not temporary. It is forever. It is for life!" In "My Family Divided," she shows us where that anger comes from. The book starts on the day of Guerrero's parents' arrest. At school, she's practicing for a duet she'll perform at a spring concert. Her father had, improbably, won $10,000 in the Powerball lottery the day before, and had given her a "shiny $50 bill." That afternoon, she went to Foot Locker. "I'd had my eye on this pair of classic Adidas shell-toes for weeks," she writes. She tried calling her parents afterward to let them know she was running late. No one answered. She sprinted home and "prayed with every step. God, please - let them be there." They weren't, and she hid under the bed until her parents' friend came to get her. I had heard the gist of Guerrero's story before, but I was shocked by the details. Readers who think they know her story may be surprised by the extent to which she lived on edge. It turns out that her mother had already been deported twice before. By the time she turned 15, Guerrero had seen her dad swindled by a fraudulent immigration attorney and her brother deported. She'd had to pack her parents' bags for Colombia after they were arrested, had visited her mother while separated behind a "giant plastic barrier" and witnessed the indignity of her father covering his mouth, embarrassed because he was not given toothpaste in jail. Her mother was arrested while she was making dinner; her father "pulled into the driveway to discover that the immigration officers had surrounded the house" and were "waiting to put him in handcuffs." It felt like a SWAT team being brought in to break up a rowdy pool party. Even when she depicts these situations using platitudes - "I was too distraught to answer," or it "scared me straight" - these moments have a powerful sting because of the way they pile on one another in quick succession. Their effect on Guerrero becomes clear only in later years, when she falls into a deep depression and begins to self-harm in her 20s. A small pleasure of reading this book is how Guerrero places herself within her neighborhood. Her ethnically specific descriptions, for instance, of the "black kid with a 'fro" with whom she sang a duet, or the "Dominican-looking guard," demonstrate her comfort seeing color. Guerrero is also adept at portraying the duality of her existence. She was joyful at school, where she was able to practice singing, and "teachers talked about college as if they assumed we'd each enroll." But the pressures at home still weighed on her: at first, the threat of her parents' removal and then, their absence. This memoir's greatest strength is that it captures how life moves on even after a great loss; Guerrero got her first period, started a job and began dating. She coped by avoiding phone calls with her parents and expressed annoyance with her circumstances; she blamed her mother for what had happened. Her account of these conflicting feelings depicts well this "strangest kind of heartache." I was separated from my mother, too, for more than 10 years, and I can attest to the ways in which longing can turn to routine can turn to forgetting. Life can feel normal, in other words - or, as Guerrero writes, "whatever normal is in a story like mine." But to read this book is to understand why Guerrero was compelled to shout that she will feel the weight of her family's separation "for life." It is to understand how a child's resilience can be as heartbreaking as it is inspirational. CONCEPCIÓN DE LEÓN is the digital staffwriter for the Books desk at The Times.
Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [August 12, 2018]
Review by Booklist Review
In her Call to Action at the end of My Family Divided, Guerrero states that 7 percent of school-age children in the U.S. have at least one undocumented parent, a staggering number. When she lost her parents to deportation, she felt utterly alone. As an adult, she knows that isn't the case, and this young readers' adaptation of her adult memoir, In the Country We Love (2016), her moving account which addresses her heartbreak, her struggles after losing her parents and being forgotten by the local government, her depression, and her resolve to succeed should help young readers in similar situations find the reassurance she missed out on. Though her story is occasionally difficult to bear, Guerrero and Moroz's conversational tone makes it digestible, and the many photographs throughout lighten things up between chapters. As an activist, Guerrero also gives readers a path to action themselves, whether they're in her shoes or simply want to help, writing, I've chosen to view my ordeal as an opportunity to be a voice for millions. Truly a book of our generation.--Pino, Kristina Copyright 2010 Booklist
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by School Library Journal Review
Gr 6-8-An adapted version of Guerrero's Alex Award-winning In the Country We Love: My Family Divided for middle schoolers. Guerrero recounts with candor her early life as a child of undocumented immigrants living in a supportive community in Boston: the joys of rollerblading with friends coupled with the fearful reality of being stopped by the police or Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE). When Guerrero was just 14 years old, her parents were suddenly deported and she was left to rely on the care of family friends as no one from Child Protective Services or ICE ever checked on her. Money, corrupt lawyers, and language barriers were among the obstacles preventing her parents from obtaining citizenship. Guerrero thoughtfully touches on the resulting trauma of this event, including bouts of depression, self-harm, and suicidal thoughts; readers sensitive to such topics may have difficulty with these passages. Throughout the book, the tone is conversational and peppered with humor; however, Guerrero does not mince words when discussing racism, politics, and family tensions as well as the fear, shame, and emotional turmoil she experienced. VERDICT A moving coming-of-age memoir for middle schoolers. Pair with Reyna Grande's The Distance Between Us.-Laura Dooley-Taylor, Lake Zurich Middle School North, Hawthorn Woods, IL © Copyright 2018. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Horn Book Review
This young readers' adaptation of the adult memoir In the Country We Love tells the heartbreaking story of a girl who was left behind when her undocumented parents were deported to Colombia. Actor/activist Guerrero's account provides readers with an inside view of a contemporary issue and will trigger a variety of emotions in readers. Photographs are sprinkled throughout, and the book ends with a call to action. Websites. (c) Copyright 2019. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
(c) Copyright The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Kirkus Book Review
Guerrero tells her own story of growing up with undocumented immigrant parents and the devastating effect on her life when they were deported.Using a conversational tone that makes her story eminently accessible, Guerrero (writing with Moroz) tells of being born with a privilege her parents did not have: U.S. citizenship. As is the case with many undocumented immigrants, from the time they arrived from Colombia they took on all kinds of low-paying jobs, dreaming of a better life for themselves and, particularly, their children. Although they kept a low profile, Guerrero's parents were detained and deported in 2001, when she was 14. Left behind to fend for herself, Guerrero moved in with family friends until she went to college. The trauma of her experience finally caught up with her there, when she suffered from debilitating depression and started cutting. Eventually, with a series of lucky breaks and by sheer gumption and determination, she landed a part on the hit show Orange Is the New Black. Nowadays Guerrero also works to bring to light the plight of undocumented families and to fight for their rights. A list of resources is included. Although the book is pitched to a middle-grade audience, Guerrero's struggles as a teen and young adult are likely to go over their headsand, importantly, will resonate keenly with YA readers.This is a timely reminder that none of us lives in a vacuum and that deportation affects more than just the deportee. (Memoir. 12-18) Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
