I was involved in a journalism study tour in China with a group including people from privileged socio-economic backgrounds.
They often talked about the best restaurants, cafes and clubs in the affluent western suburbs of Perth – a conversation I couldn’t contribute to.
At one point, the inevitable question came up about what my parents did for a living – a question I used to be uncomfortable answering. I didn’t struggle to answer this question because I was ashamed. I just didn’t want to deal with that look. That look that says “I’m sorry your parents are poor”.
I just didn’t want to deal with that look. That look that says “I’m sorry your parents are poor”.
I come from a long line of cleaners. It’s my family’s legacy. My mother is a cleaner, her single mother – my Abuelita – supported my mother and her nine siblings by cleaning clothes for wealthy people in Chile. My paternal grandparents cleaned a high school in Perth until they retired, only a few years ago. Most of my aunties in Australia are cleaners and when I was young, my parents cleaned a daycare centre together for extra money.
Last week, when Labor Leader Bill Shorten shared the story of his mother’s sacrifices and the subsequent support on social media with the hashtag #mymum, it resonated with me.
Usually the only immigrant stories that get positive media attention are those that defeat the odds – like the extraordinary migrant who became a doctor or a lawyer. A less common one is of people who come to this country and take the opportunity for a better life, dedicating themselves to supporting their families.
Given the sacrifices this often entails: isn’t that just as commendable?
Children of immigrants often live with the burden of knowing of their families’ sacrifices. I’m the first person in my family to go to university and it was only possible because of my hard-working parents.
Cleaning is more than a job it’s her passion. More than anything, my Mum enjoys the connections she makes with people through her work.
My father, who came to Australia as a refugee with his immediate family, was unable to finish his university degree in Chile. Instead, he found work in a factory and devoted himself to his children.
My mum still cleans people’s houses for a living. She has a lot of pride in her work and often says, “I clean their homes like it was my own”. Her clients, who she also considers family, have taken notice of her passion for the job. In recent years, her clientele has expanded rapidly due to word of mouth of her exploits.
However, she’s no ordinary cleaner.
She takes the time to get to know her clients, often listening to how their day was or offering to support them in other ways. Some of her clients love her so much their kids call her ‘aunty’. She is a natural caregiver and loves sharing her Chilean culture with anyone who is open to it, regularly making them traditional food without asking for anything in return.
But cleaning is more than a job it’s her passion. More than anything, my Mum enjoys the connections she makes with people through her work, and knowing that her work is making a difference to her clients, her family and contributing to society.
I’m the first person in my family to go to university and it was only possible because of my hard-working parents.
Both of my parents take pride in cleaning their home. They came to this country with very little and through hard work purchased a house in Perth’s south-eastern suburbs in the mid-1990s. Their home is a representation of that hard work and they enjoy cleaning and maintaining it together.
On weekends they spend a lot of their time cleaning. They put on cumbia or Spanish ballads from the 70s and 80s and clean till the house looks like a display home. The music is so loud I used to be able to hear it when I turned the corner into the street of our family home. I now live on the other side of the country, in Melbourne and find myself doing same thing. I can’t clean unless I have music at maximum volume.
Despite their broken English, low incomes and physically demanding jobs, my parents have never let anything hold them back from providing a better life for their children and taking the opportunities that they were fortunate to receive. I owe everything I have achieved to them and I am eternally grateful.
Now, when people ask me what my mother does for a living, I say, “she’s a cleaner, and a really good one at that”.
Jessica Ibacache is a Chilean writer, photographer and community organiser based in Melbourne. She writes about the Latinx diaspora experience, pop culture and the arts. You can follow her on Twitter @jessibacache.
