Living on the edge of the law. Undocumented Mexican immigrants and their expressions of citizenship

I waited on repentance and on hope. The door opened to admit my father-in-law. 'The girls will have you first-then Y, he said. A small black whip hung down beside his thigh. The end was knotted and it twitched. I rose as if to greet him, but I did not smile. 'It is the price-the penalty', he said. 'In my own house?' I tried to stare him out, could not, and bowed my head a little. To his glee, I think. 'There will be others on your bed, between your thighs'. 'Mama will not permit'. 'She will be occupied, and is already so. Nests may be spermed today-it is the way of it. Remove your gown and your chemise. You have no drawers on, I believe?' 'I have not, no'. My mood was moody, ever changeable. From earth I trod on swamp and then on earth again. 'Kneel well up on your bed and let your bottom overhang the edge. The whip will not lambast you overmuch, I swear'. 'And who prescribed this penalty?' I loosed my dress, began to draw it off. His eyes glowed at my nakedness beneath, my stockings taut as father had desired. 'Tradition, Emily-and there are others you will need to learn ...»