TERRY GROSS, HOST:

This is FRESH AIR. I'm Terry Gross. Today's guest writes, there is absolutely no doubt that I was 100% sexualized as a child. She's referring to when she was a preteen child star, modeling herself on Madonna. You probably don't know her name - Tamara Yajia - because she grew up in Argentina in Buenos Aires and moved to America in 1995 when she was 13. The move was initially traumatic because she was about to become an even bigger star in Argentina after landing a role in the cast of a new TV show, which became the Argentinian equivalent of "The Mickey Mouse Club," and it was a big hit. But she was denied that opportunity because her family had already planned to move to the U.S.

Argentina's economy was in a downturn. The middle class was collapsing. Her father's business had gone bankrupt, and the family was broke. It was the second time the family moved to California. This time, as they were in the immigration and naturalization office about to get their green cards, they were nearly deported instead because they'd overstayed their visa. Yajia now lives in LA, which has been at the epicenter of President Trump's efforts to deport people who are here illegally, and some legal residents have been swept up in the process.

Tamara Yajia has written a new memoir called "Cry For Me, Argentina: My Life As A Failed Child Star." It follows her tumultuous life - moving with her family from Argentina to California, then back to Argentina, then back to the U.S. in an eight-year period of her childhood. She also writes about what it was like being Jewish in Argentina. Yajia has given up on a music career, but she's channeled her creative energy into writing. She was a writer for The Onion and Funny or Die and has written for several TV series, including Apple TV's "Acapulco," the Hulu series "This Fool" and several other shows. Tamara Yajia, welcome to FRESH AIR.

TAMARA YAJIA: Thank you so much, Terry, for having me.

GROSS: When I was reading about your early childhood performances in Buenos Aires on your way to being a childhood star, I was very worried about you. First of all, things weren't going well for you. You were biting people. You were getting scolded for trying to be funny by pushing boundaries. A child psychologist diagnosed you as having developmental issues. Your parents had sent you to a Hebrew school where the afternoon was all in Hebrew and Talmud study, and you didn't understand Hebrew. Then you saw a Madonna music video of "La Isla Bonita," and you decided to dance and lip-sync to Madonna's "Like A Prayer" in your Hebrew school talent show with rabbis and audience - in the audience and lots of parents. So I want you to describe your performance, what you did for your choreography and what you wore.

YAJIA: Well...

GROSS: Yes, well.

(LAUGHTER)

YAJIA: This was all my decision. I was the creative director of my performance. I wore a American flag T-shirt that went down to my knees. It belonged to my father, and I had my great-aunt Babala (ph), who was a seamstress, put Velcro strips along the sides of the shirt so that once the choir hit in "Like A Prayer," I could rip it off kind of like strippers do in the movies. I don't know how I knew that back then, but - I mean, I guess I had seen it somewhere. And then underneath, Terry, I was wearing a black garter belt, which Babala had also taken in from me - I was, like, 11 maybe - and a little nude - like these nude-colored shorts and a nude bra that made me look naked. Now, you can imagine the horror in people's faces. I describe it in the book as it looked like they were about to get run over by a train. But I was on top of the world.

GROSS: So describe your choreography and the knife.

YAJIA: Well, I had a knife in my hand just like Madonna did in the "Like A Prayer" music video.

GROSS: And in the music video, she uses it basically to put stigmata in her hands.

YAJIA: Yes. I had no idea what any of that meant. I mean, being raised Jewish, I didn't even know about Judaism, to be honest with you. I was just copying this amazing, confident woman that I had seen on MTV. So I pretended to slice my hand, then came the shirt tear off. I did a lot of crawling on the stage like Madonna had done in her "Like A Virgin" music video. And I was just copying my idol.

GROSS: Your parents didn't know what your routine was going to be 'cause you wanted to surprise them. What was their reaction?

YAJIA: My parents, they were not horrified, to be honest with you. They saw me expressing myself, and sex had been so normalized in my household that they were in awe of me, which tells you a lot. And, you know, I don't blame them for it nowadays. I feel like I would do things differently when I have kids, but they just saw it as me expressing myself. But then again, Terry, just to - I spoke to my dad after he read my book, and his comment on it was, I thought all of the moves that we did and all of the change - he said, I thought it was fun for you. And at that moment, I just started weeping because I said this - I don't think there was much emotional intelligence on their end. And I think they just - I don't know, it's so tough to talk about it, but I think they didn't see us as humans, in a way, me and my sister.

GROSS: What do you mean by that?

YAJIA: I think they - my parents may have been too focused on themselves and too much was permitted, and they just saw us as these, you know, extensions of themselves that were on this fun ride along with them.

GROSS: Well, parenthetically here, I'll mention that for family fun, your grandmother would drive the whole family to the Buenos Aires red light district to look at the sex workers and, you know, how attractive some of them were. How old were you, and what was that experience like? And do you think that connects to the larger story that you're telling here?

YAJIA: Yeah. I mean, I must have been - when we first started going, I was like 8 or 9, you know? And it was a family outing, which, to me, felt totally normal at the time. And I write that my grandfather was - would sit in the front seat, and he was going through chemotherapy and, like, almost dying at this point. And he would just sit, and we would wave, and I would wave and blow kisses. And it - not until now do I realize how insane that was.

GROSS: Well, your grandparents - I think this is on your mother's side - met at a brothel, where your grandmother was a cook and your grandfather was a patron, and he tasted her cooking, and they got married a few weeks later. And you said that, like, most of the people who worked at the brothel were Jewish.

YAJIA: Yes, and I did some research on this, and it blew my mind, Terry, because there were a lot of women from Poland, you know, back in the pogrom days, that would get brought over to Argentina and they would pay their debt, their immigration debt, by working in brothels. And my great-great aunt was one of those sex workers, and that's how my grandma ended up there. So there's sex work, and sex has been normalized in my family from generation to generation. My father lost his virginity in a brothel. His uncle took him. And I thought it was crazy, but he was like, that's just what we did.

GROSS: You got to the point, you say, where you started to lock eyes with men and you worried if they didn't look at you sexually. How did you interpret those looks as a preteen who didn't really understand what sex was yet? Like, sex was normalized in your family, but that doesn't mean you really understood it or saw it or, you know, knew what it was.

YAJIA: No, and it felt so horrible. It was so confusing. Like, the main thing I could say about it was just not understanding these feelings of, you know, a mixture of sexuality and, like, horniness, I describe it as in the book, but guilt and shame. And yeah, I would lock eyes with men at restaurants. Sometimes they would be with their families. And I feel like I exuded sexually, like, a darkness as a kid. But it's just too hard to put into words because I didn't understand what it meant. And it was a combination of having Madonna be my idol - and it was her in her "Erotica" years, which were the most sexual, you know, times - and my family. So it was a perfect storm.

GROSS: Was there anyone who tried to protect you from yourself and from the men?

YAJIA: No. (Laughter) No.

GROSS: When did you realize how inappropriate and potentially dangerous your situation was?

YAJIA: Not until the past couple of years, and I'm 41. I was going to lie and say I was 40, (laughter) but I'm 41. I started really, really doing therapy, and it wasn't until I wrote this book. So it was a combination of those two things. I had never - for many years, I never even talked about the fact that I was a child star, so sitting down to write this really let me analyze that darkness.

And you know what's crazy is my editor - I didn't write about any of the creepy stuff. I just wrote about, you know, me doing the dances and stuff. And my editor said, let's go back. There's something missing here. This wasn't right. And it took three tries until I really nailed the emotion of what that - you know, men's gazes and all of that being sexualized part. Because I tend to make things just be trivial and humorize. Humorize, is that how you say it?

GROSS: It's a good verb. I'm not sure I've heard it before.

(LAUGHTER)

GROSS: But I like it.

YAJIA: Let's pretend like it is. But, yeah, and so it was because of having an amazing editor that it served like therapy. And I went back, and I really looked at what that meant.

GROSS: Why do you think it took you so long?

YAJIA: It was survival mode, I think. I may have not been ready to see things until I wrote this book. I think I just needed the time to be prepared and strong to understand how difficult it was. And it's crazy because the moment I did understand all the trauma and see it was when I changed my mind about wanting to have kids. I never wanted kids until I wrote this book.

GROSS: Yeah, that's how you start the book, explaining that 95% of you didn't want kids, 5% did, and then the 5% wouldn't let go of you. And you decided - well, why don't you explain what changed your mind.

YAJIA: I was scared that I would not be a good parent to a child because of the upbringing that I had. I'm getting emotional. But I was scared that history would repeat itself. And after writing this book, I knew there was no way that it would repeat itself because I am an introspective person, because I was able to release all the trauma via my writing and also because I have an amazing partner. So I think once I let go of that, I knew I would make a wonderful mom.

GROSS: Well, let me reintroduce you here because we have to take a break. My guest is Tamara Yajia, and she has a new memoir called "Cry For Me, Argentina: My Life As A Failed Child Star." We'll be right back. This is FRESH AIR.

(SOUNDBITE OF MOACIR SANTOS' "EXCERPT NO. 1")

GROSS: This is FRESH AIR. Let's get back to my interview with Tamara Yajia. Her new memoir is titled "Cry For Me, Argentina: My Life As A Failed Child Star." The title refers to growing up in Argentina and moving to the U.S. with her family just as she was about to become a cast member on the Argentinian equivalent of "The Mickey Mouse Club."

Tell the story of how you found out that you had got the part on the TV show, and that at the same time, you couldn't take it.

YAJIA: Yeah, we got a phone call from my agent, I think. And what was I, like, 11 years old? And I picked up the phone receiver, and my mom picked it up at the same time. And I overheard the whole conversation, pretended like I wasn't on the line. And yeah, they said, you know, Tam has been cast. And she'll have to quit school or get homeschooled or whatever, and she'll be traveling all of Argentina, and it'll be on TV and this and that. And I was, like, jumping for joy. And then my mom announced on the other line, you know, we can't take the job. We haven't told her yet, but we're packing up and moving back to the United States. And I literally, like in the movies, like, dropped the phone from my hand in just shock and horror.

GROSS: This was your dream, which was about to be fulfilled, except that it wasn't going to be.

YAJIA: Yeah, this is what I had worked so hard for. This was the ultimate dream. And this kind of stuff sticks with you, right? Like, I always I feel like, for the rest of my life, whenever good things happen to me, I feel like they're not going to pan out. I write about this in this book. But somebody gave me the best advice ever, and it's stupid and simple. But whenever that fear creeps up, that things will get taken from me, you got to get over it. You got to move on and get over it. And I try to tell myself that.

GROSS: So just one more thing about performing. What were your performances like when you stopped doing the Madonna thing?

YAJIA: When I started singing, it was over track. So it was kind of like karaoke, but I had a different pick of songs. I did a lot of Ace of Base, but I would sing it, so I had the tracks. And a lot of choreography. I did "All That She Wants," and I did "The Sign." I did some songs in Spanish. So I had, like, a little repertoire, and I had two backup dancers.

(LAUGHTER)

GROSS: Wow.

YAJIA: It was really cute.

GROSS: OK. So your family decided to move to the U.S. because your father's business went bankrupt, the family business went bankrupt. The whole middle class was collapsing. And they needed to make a fresh start and thought that California would be a better place to try to do it. So this was the second time that your family left Buenos Aires for California. And the first time around, you studied English as a second language. How helpful was that?

YAJIA: It was so amazing, Terry. I don't remember learning English. It's wild because it must've been three or four months and I was fluent. And it was amazing. I describe it as the Tower of Babel. But it was just children from all over the world. And we were just forced to learn English because it was the only way we could communicate. And yeah, I think it was like two or three months. And I don't even remember it.

GROSS: I kind of forget whether it was the first or second time you were in LA that your parents opened up a stall at the mall food court.

YAJIA: (Laughter).

GROSS: And it was a knockoff of a place that was called El Pollo Loco, which is The Crazy Chicken.

YAJIA: (Laughter) Yes.

GROSS: And so the name they came up with was The Sexy Chicken.

YAJIA: That's right (laughter).

GROSS: And so I want you to describe what the logo looked like.

YAJIA: The logo was a slutty rotisserie chicken cartoon.

(LAUHTER)

YAJIA: It had huge boobs and a tight black dress and smoked a long cigarette. (Laughter) And it had a mole drawn on, kind of like a sluttier Marilyn Monroe, if you will. And the business failed after, like, six months. So, my God, I tried revisiting the Fallbrook Mall, which is where that place was, and it's closed. But, God, I love malls because of that, spending so much time in food courts and malls as a kid.

GROSS: So your grandfather had a store in the same mall that sold stationery and children's toys. You must've really felt like you owned the mall.

YAJIA: Oh, I call myself - I was the feral child of the mall.

GROSS: (Laughter).

YAJIA: And it was my happy place. That also shows, like, the lack of boundaries and codependency issues in my family that my father opens up the food court stand, and my grandparents literally move from Argentina to the United States because they couldn't bear to be without us. Not only that, but they moved next door to us and opened a stationary store at the same mall. So there was a lot of escaping from each other. But the mall was my happy place, and it still is. If I'm, like, having a bad day, my husband will be like, let's go to the park. Let's, you know, ground ourselves, put our feet in the grass. And I'm like, no, I'm going to the mall.

GROSS: So your singing and dancing teacher in Buenos Aires gave you a note when you left for the final time to actually live for real in California. And she wrote, dear Tamara, never forget that you are a star. Don't give up what you've started. You know what's in California? Hollywood. Now, go get them.

YAJIA: (Laughter).

GROSS: So describe your attempt to do that in front of Grauman's Chinese Theatre. And this is the theater on the Hollywood Walk of Fame where Oscar ceremonies had been held, big movie premieres. So tell us what you did.

YAJIA: Oh, my God. So I made my parents drive me from Orange County to, yeah, Hollywood, the epicenter of Hollywood. And I put on my outfit, my performance outfit. It was, like, the vinyl, black vinyl miniskirt. And I had grown a little bit, so it was starting to be really small on me and not as cute. And I walked around doing, like, voguing (laughter) and striking poses in hopes that a manager would find me and rediscover me in the United States, which is so sad, but also so incredibly funny to me. And, you know, my parents walked around behind me, and I was like, distance, you cannot be too close to me. I have to be seen. And, yeah, I was just voguing down Hollywood Boulevard, and obviously, no manager discovered me. And then we just ended up at McDonald's eating chicken nuggets.

GROSS: Were you singing at the same time?

YAJIA: No, I was not singing. I was just dancing to no music. Oh, my God. What a disaster.

(LAUGHTER)

GROSS: Well, we need to take another break here, so let me reintroduce you. If you're just joining us, my guest is Tamara Yajia. Her new memoir is called "Cry For Me, Argentina: My Life As A Failed Child Star." We'll be right back after a short break. I'm Terry Gross, and this is FRESH AIR.

(SOUNDBITE OF BILL FRISELL, ET AL.'S "PIPELINE")

GROSS: This is FRESH AIR. I'm Terry Gross. Let's get back to my interview with Tamara Yajia. Her new memoir is called "Cry For Me Argentina: My Life As A Failed Child Star." She grew up in Buenos Aires, where her Jewish great grandparents emigrated in the early 1900s. When she was 11, she started singing and dancing, modeling herself on Madonna. She toured and became pretty well-known. When she was 13, she was cast in the new Argentinian equivalent of "The Mickey Mouse Club," but was devastated to learn she couldn't accept the role because the family was moving to California. The Argentinian economy was in a downturn. The family business was bankrupt. The middle class was collapsing.

She writes about being sexualized as a child during the Madonna era of her life, becoming an immigrant and, for a while, living in fear because the family had overstayed its visa and was left undocumented. Now she lives in LA, the epicenter of the Trump administration's deportation efforts. Yajia's written for The Onion, Funny or Die, the Apple TV series "Acapulco," the Hulu series "This Fool" and several other shows.

So your family went to California on a tourist visa, I think with more luggage than tourists typically bring.

(LAUGHTER)

YAJIA: Yes.

GROSS: And your father kept entering what was known as the Green Card Lottery. Can you explain what that is?

YAJIA: Yeah, so every year the United States government grants - I'm not sure, let's say 40,000 visas to specific countries. And if you win this lottery, you and your family get naturalized. So we won that. We couldn't believe...

GROSS: What do you have to do to enter the lottery?

YAJIA: I think you pay. If I remember correctly, you pay some sort of sum of money, and you turn in - it's like a letter or like an application. It's pretty simple. I'm not sure - we may have had an attorney help us with it once we won. But, yeah, it was that easy, just, like, a hundred bucks and an application.

GROSS: So the family finally won. At this point, though, you were undocumented 'cause your tourist visa had expired. So let's talk about the expiration period before your father got the go-ahead for the green cards. What could your family not do or not do legally?

YAJIA: We couldn't travel for one. We couldn't leave if we wanted to come back. I believe my parents had driver's license, which luckily they had obtained on our first trip here when it was - everything was easier to obtain. But we didn't have Social Security numbers, so we couldn't - or I was too young, but they couldn't work. So I just think - I remember, even as a kid, I was in constant fear of even crossing the street when the light was red 'cause I would get, you know, picked up by the police and deported. So imagine being, you know, 13 years old, starting middle school, getting my period, all of that, and then on top of it, this fear - underlying fear.

GROSS: Your parents couldn't work legally, but did they have a business and get paid in ways that they didn't have to declare their earnings?

YAJIA: I believe they still paid taxes. I don't know if it was under their Social Securities, but they still paid taxes, and they still worked. Their business was cash 'cause they drove food trucks, so it was kind of easier. But I was always so scared. It wasn't right, you know? And I think - imagine how it affected my parents.

GROSS: When you were scared and you worried about what was going to happen, what was the movie that you played in your head about how that would work?

YAJIA: Oh, my God, terrifying. So I would - I remember my parents would leave for work at 3 in the morning, and I would stay with my little sister, who's four years younger. And I would dream that they would, you know, get caught and deported and that me and her would get put into an orphanage or, you know, get sent to a creepy man to take care of us. I had also watched this movie called "Freeway" with Reese Witherspoon and Kiefer Sutherland, and in my mind, my parents were going to get deported, and me and my sister would be sent to this creepy man like Kiefer Sutherland in that movie. Ugh, it was so terrifying. I would just not sleep at night - just straight up. I was so scared.

GROSS: So in the book, you say you actually did have - your parents did have a lawyer, an ultra-Orthodox Hasidic Jewish lawyer who told your family that they just had to show up and fill out the paperwork and they'd get the green card. So you were in the Immigration and Naturalization Service. The family was there. I think you were there - right? - with your parents?

YAJIA: I was there.

GROSS: Yeah. Tell us what you were told.

YAJIA: So we went in so happy because this lawyer said, it's going to be a piece of cake. It'll take two seconds. And I remember sitting down and just some guy - immigration officer who, you know, didn't even look at us. And I remember them just, like, avoiding my dad's gaze - just flipped through paperwork and just immediately said, no, you were here undocumented for however long. This doesn't qualify you.

There was something else that I didn't put in the book, but - where my dad had been sponsored through work, which I - which is the reason that the deportation didn't work. I'm unsure as to that, but they basically deported us on the spot because the lawyer wasn't present. And I remember my mom collapsing on the floor of the immigration building and just having a straight-up panic attack and in my mind, thinking, what does this mean? - being kind of happy because I was like, I'm going back to Argentina. I can - my grandparents are there; but still horror and confusion.

GROSS: So what did your lawyer do when your parents contacted him and he came and, you know, turned things around?

YAJIA: Oh, my God. The guy was a maniac. He came in and started pounding on the doors of the immigration offices. Like, I don't know how he didn't get arrested. And he was, like - had a stained shirt with, like, mustard and ketchup, I remember. And he was like, you wrongfully deported this family. I will burn the place down, and I will get, you know, every news outlet I know - he was a character - here, and so they let us back in, and we had a different person this time who was, you know - read that - the other part of my dad having a sponsor or whatever and was like, oh, yeah, no, no, no, that was a mistake and basically undeported us on the spot. It was a absolute roller coaster. It's not right for a child to feel that way.

GROSS: If you try to project that incident into the present, what do you see?

YAJIA: Oh, my God. I can't put into words what is happening right now. And I - it brings up a lot. And I have to say that I'm lucky. I have fair skin, you know? Like, I don't feel like I would be targeted, but - although who knows? But I think of my parents, you know, still...

GROSS: You don't think you'd be visually targeted?

YAJIA: I don't think so.

GROSS: Racially profiled?

YAJIA: I don't think I would be racially profiled. No, not me. But then, again, I think of my parents driving food trucks in downtown LA in construction zones with, you know, thick accents, and they're driving around with their passports right now. So, God, it's just so horrible, Terry.

GROSS: So, you know, I was reading in the New York Times their description of what's happening in LA. And this was - I was reading this on June 30. They said that there are parts of LA and Latino neighborhoods where it looks like the COVID shutdown, that people are so afraid to, like, take public transportation or buy anything from, like, a Latino market or a Latino, you know, truck. They're afraid to be seen on the street, and so a lot of the streets and shops are, like, empty.

YAJIA: Yeah, I can see it. I also live downtown. So, you know, like, places like the flower market downtown, which is my favorite place to go on Saturday mornings and just buy flowers and make bouquets, is empty. Street vendors are gone. The Santee Alley, which is where me and my parents would go and shop for cheap clothes, like, it's - it's unrecognizable, and it's a city that's already hurting after the fires and COVID. So it's devastating.

GROSS: Did you witness any of the demonstrations, the National Guard?

YAJIA: Yeah. I live, like, two blocks away from where everything happened, and it's weird 'cause I would put the news on for comfort, which is, like, exactly what I didn't...

GROSS: (Laughter).

YAJIA: ...The opposite of what I should be doing.

GROSS: They were probably just narrating what was going on two blocks away from you.

YAJIA: Oh, totally. There was one moment where the - I was like, there's our apartment.

GROSS: Yeah, wow.

YAJIA: Like, watching it on the news, but I don't know. It felt - I - it's crazy 'cause I was in a fight with my parents during this whole time, so we weren't speaking. And I was just following their locations on my phone and seeing them going to work, like, in the middle of where all of these - right? - ICE raids were happening and just being like, what a time to not be on speaking terms with my parents. Everything is fine now.

GROSS: Oh, good.

YAJIA: But this is what happens when you write a book, too, and you process so much stuff. It's like I was - I needed some - a break from them.

GROSS: 'Cause you were processing your relationship with them and how they did or didn't protect you over the years?

YAJIA: Oh, yeah, it's been really intense, Terry. I'm, like - all of this immigration stuff, my book, writing this book, processing stuff I'd never processed and on top of it, doing IVF 'cause I'm trying to have a kid, so - and pumped with hormones, so I am something else right now.

(LAUGHTER)

GROSS: On that note, we need to take another break here. So let me reintroduce you. If you're just joining us, my guest is Tamara Yajia. Her new memoir is called "Cry For Me, Argentina: My Life As A Failed Child Star." We'll be right back. This is FRESH AIR.

(SOUNDBITE OF CHARLIE HADEN'S "EL CIEGO (THE BLIND)")

GROSS: This is FRESH AIR. Let's get back to my interview with Tamara Yajia. Her new memoir is called "Cry for Me, Argentina: My Life As A Failed Child Star." The title refers to growing up in Buenos Aires, Argentina, and moving to the U.S. with her family just as she was about to become a cast member of the Argentinian equivalent of "The Mickey Mouse Club." The memoir is also about growing up Jewish in Argentina. It's about being an immigrant to the U.S., spending part of that time undocumented and all the fear that that created in the family.

In the U.S., in California, you eventually broke into the music business briefly and then discovered, like, your gift for writing and your love of writing and of reading. And the way you broke into the music business, 'cause you got to intern with and then work at Sony Records, you and a friend of yours, another girl, went to a Latin rock festival, and you were approached by a guy who asked you if you wanted to go backstage. When you said yes, he gave you an all-access pass, and then you ended up doing mushrooms with one of Mexico's most famous rock bands. You had just turned 18. Was this supposed to be a quid pro quo kind of thing? Like, you get the access pass and there's stuff that the band is going to expect from you?

YAJIA: No, it wasn't. It - and it actually - that's when my life got fun. It wasn't creepy. We became close friends with these guys, and it was like, I started smoking pot and doing mushrooms. And I remember we would, like, make human pyramids and, like, throw cheese all over tour buses. I don't know, Terry. This sounds insane as I'm saying it out loud. But it was just more like young people hanging out. Again, I haven't had life experiences that were all normal and it - as I grew up.

(LAUGHTER)

YAJIA: But it was - I talk about it in the book. Like, one time I found myself like in a - at a party with Stevie Wonder.

GROSS: Yeah, I was wondering, like, how did that happen? 'Cause I don't think you explain.

YAJIA: I think it was just - we had gone to a show where one of these rock bands were playing, and we took a limo to the show, and it was like, oh, there's Stevie Wonder. And that's when I met this really cool lady who was an exec in the music industry, and she was like, do you want an internship? You seem, you know, like you have a really outgoing personality. And I was like, yeah, and I started the next Monday.

GROSS: You got hired after a few months. You were, like, working on press releases and working on tours sometimes. But then your mother told you that you'd make a much better living and would be able to buy a home if you got a job as an interpreter - a Spanish interpreter. And so you took a class. You got a job, and you hated it 'cause you were working at a hospital, and you were just repeating what people said, and it was all about, like, symptoms and disease and stuff. And you sank into a really bad depression. And I think that's one of the things that led you to get addicted to pills.

YAJIA: Yeah. I mean, it had to come to a head at some point, all of the trauma. And I think becoming an interpreter, the least creative job - and I am a super creative person - it just broke me. And my mom happened to break her foot, and she had a stash of Vicodin. And suddenly, when I took one, I was like, oh, my God. I - it felt so good at first. It was like I took the backpack off, you know, that had been weighing me down for so many years. But like addiction goes, you know, it never remains that way, and it started to get dark for me.

GROSS: Yeah, and then you end up dropping a pill while you were driving and looking down to try to find it and crashing into a bus and totaling the car, injuring your back. And then you stopped the pills, which is great that you were able to do that.

YAJIA: Yes, I went all the way 'cause I was taking antidepressants. I was taking Vicodin. I was smoking pot. And then after the car crash - which was funny because there was a Buzz Lightyear advertisement for "Toy Story" on the back of the bus, so when I came to and opened my eyes, I just saw Buzz Lightyear, like, waving at me and Woody, and I was like, oh, my God, what happened? And I just was - that was the wake-up call I needed, and I just quit everything at the same time. And I started to feel emotions again, and I think I may have cried for three months straight following that. But it was good. It was good.

GROSS: So now you're trying to have a child, which is how you start your book, talking about why you decided to have a child. What do you want to do differently than how you were raised? Like, do you have this whole plan in mind of, like, what kind of mother you're going to be, which will, of course, change because nothing goes as planned. But do you have, like, a plan in mind or a vision?

YAJIA: Yeah, I think there's just - without going into it too much because there's - so much will change, like you said, but I just want this child to feel safe. It's very, very simple. I did not feel safe, and that needs to change. And I - they will not be an extension of me. They will be their own person. And, again, I have the right partner. I'm certain.

GROSS: Tamara, it's really been fun to talk with you, even though part of what we talked about was very traumatic. You know, I don't mean the interview is traumatic, but we were talking about trauma in your life.

YAJIA: (Laughter),

GROSS: But it was really a pleasure to talk with you, and thank you for coming on the show and for, you know, talking openly about your life.

YAJIA: Thank you so much. Thank you. Wow. This is a pinch-me moment.

GROSS: Thank you for saying that.

Tamara Yajia's new memoir is called "Cry For Me, Argentina: My Life As A Failed Child Star."

After we take a short break, Ken Tucker will review Bruce Springsteen's seven new albums, collecting previously unreleased material. This is FRESH AIR.

(SOUNDBITE OF BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN SONG, "SHENANDOAH") Transcript provided by NPR, Copyright NPR.

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