Carmen Margarita Mejia

Born in Camuy, Puerto Rico, 1948

My sister Carmen was eight years older than me and like my second mother. She was happy, very beautiful, and a fantastic flamenco dancer.  I have wonderful memories of her hugging and kissing me and telling me how much she loved me.

Carmen had a strong social conscience, which is why she became a social worker. She received her Master’s degree in Social Work when she was 22, a rare accomplishment at the time for a Puerto Rican woman who grew up in a small town and in a working-class family. She wrote her Master’s thesis on the participation of social workers in controversial issues related to the social well-being of society.

Carmen was a natural leader. People gravitated to her because of her strong sense of justice and outgoing personality. A friend once said about her, “With Carmen, everything felt like an adventure.” That was probably why she was so successful in bringing together people who had disagreements.

On one of my visits to Puerto Rico, I contacted the School of Social Work and asked to read the evaluations of her field work internship. Her professor had noted Carmen’s concerns that social workers working for government agencies would have difficulty building trusting relationships with poor people who distrusted the government.  I was so impressed that she was thinking about these big questions when she was only 22. Later, Carmen worked in a government agency that provided services to substance abusers. She was also active in the Puerto Rican Independence Movement.

Carmen was married in 1972 and had two daughters, Doris Aimee and Dialma Aimee, to whom she was devoted. Her husband, however, had become increasingly violent and, on several occasions, kidnapped her to prevent her from leaving him. At the time, there were no shelters for battered women in Puerto Rico. My mother begged Carmen to take the children and move to Cuba before her husband harmed them, but Carmen worried that if they fled he would turn his anger on my mother and me. That was typical of Carmen, always thinking of protecting others.

On May 5, 1977, her husband barged into the house and shot to death Carmen, then 28, her two daughters, Carmen’s mother( Margot) and two family friends. For many years I blocked out the memories of that terrible day; it was too painful to talk about or to look at their pictures. Now the names of my sister and two nieces are painted on the Women’s Building where I work everyday. The first time I saw their names, I cried. Now, it comforts me and makes me feel closer to them.

After the tragedy that happened to my family, I decided to devote my life to working on women’s issues. It is why I believe it’s so important to support women’s organization and to have centers like The Women’s Building.

Honored by Teresa Mejía