When I moved to the Philippines with my family at age six, I had no idea that I’d wind up locking myself in the room downstairs every day for weeks. I remember refusing to go to school where everyone would speak to me in a language I had no fluency in, and instead feebly hiding in the corner of the room in my new house with the door locked, waiting for my carpool to leave before I would come out. I was terrified and overwhelmed; the culture shock seemed insurmountable at the time and looking back now, it definitely was. Everything in the Philippines differed so much from what I was used to in California, and even from Japan where I lived for a year prior to moving. Never would I have thought that it would be there where I would find myself and become more intact with my culture than anywhere …show more content…
Their house was so concrete and worn-down that it would barely even be recognized as a house in America. I was baffled; how could people live in such poor living conditions? There were five children in the family yet only one, tiny bedroom. Despite it all, they were the some of the happiest people I’ve met in my life. As time passed I began to feel more and more comfortable with my surroundings and the customs that made up the country. I began speaking Tagalog fluently to the point where speaking English was a rarity, and I adapted to the traditions and social norms of my community. I was happy to call that place my home. But my home was also a third-world country. You get used to seeing children and homeless families who have no one but each other begging for money on the streets, mangy dogs and cats roaming the area. It’s not that you become immune to it — you just learn to accept that there’s not much you can do to help, no matter how abysmal the situation. And that’s the root cause that entails from living in a country like the
Apathy. Although there are circumstances that cause people to be homeless such as the loss of a job or addiction, the main reason is that citizens feel apathetic towards the homeless. Seeing homeless people on the streets has become so common that people are not impacted by the hardships a homeless person is clearly facing. Beggars have become invisible and it is nearly impossible for the homeless to regain a life of normalcy without the help of others. It is typically taught that when you see a homeless person you should ignore them, walk away, or lock your doors if you are in a car.
The books, Salvage the Bones by Jesmyn Ward, and The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls, are exemplary models of an American family in poverty, and their journey and struggle to survive. They had to live off of what they had and they thought their lifestyles were normal until realizing others have it easier. Each of these families used different strategies in order to survive their insolvent circumstances and hardships. In Salvage the Bones, Esch and her family kept moving and giving each other strength to survive, during a devastating storm in which left them homeless. In The Glass Castle, even though the Walls family was in poverty and didn’t have a permanent home and were always moving.
Intelligence is not based on how people act, but how people choose to live. The Glass Castle, a memoir written by Jeannette Walls contains true stories based on her life growing up. Throughout the novel, many difficulties and hardships arise. Jeannette Walls accounts for her problematic lifestyle growing up with an alcoholic father and a simplest mother. The ending of this novel is not only predictable but also a little boring.
I was homeless. Everything - from my prestigious awards to my mattress all the way to the trash from beside my toilet- was piled right on top of one another. Teddy bears, pictures, and even abstract memories seemed to have a haunting presence as I tried to comprehend what was happening. My dad patiently tried to help me understand how we had got to a point of such penetrating financial instability that the bank had revoked our house. Homelessness, while seemingly obvious, means different things to different people.
Even so, along with the questions came dread about living in an unfamiliar country. For instance, my mom worried her inability to speak English would hinder her new life’s development. My mom and grandparents also stressed, specifically, about the difficulties of adjusting to American culture. This included new food, customs, people and landscapes. Despite that, what occupied my mom the most was my grandma.
The poverty cycle affects many American families, it is the phenomenon in which poor families are poverty-stricken for at least three generations. In Jeannette Walls’ memoir, The Glass Castle, Jeannette and her siblings break that cycle. It is a story of triumph over adversity as Jeannette did not let the label of “poor” create an obstacle in her path. It did not come easy, as her parents obscured her view of what life out of poverty could look like. Although the weight of poverty strayed her relationship with her parents, it was all she knew, due to hard work and determination she defied the odds stacked against her and broke loose.
The Secret to Jeannette’s Unusual Childhood Nearly 8.2% of all American children lived in unimaginable “deep poverty” in 2016, according to the University of California, Davis. The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls is a profound insight into these hidden lives. The Glass Castle is a autobiographical memoir detailing the nonconformist lifestyle of the Walls family. This somewhat dysfunctional family had a number of unconventional experiences. Rex abused alcohol.
In my life, there have many instances where I have been forced to adapt to different cultures, but the biggest culture shock by far was switching from Catholic school to public school. It could not have been any more different. The size, the people, the town, the curriculum – everything was different. It was such a different environment from what I was used to, but I soon grew to love it. I attended a small Catholic School in from kindergarten to fifth grade.
Esperanza and her family are always moving because they do not have much money, but they finally moved into a house on Mango Street where they “Don’t have to pay rent to anybody, or share the yard with the people downstairs, or be careful not to make too much noise” (703). Although it sounded like a nice place, when a nun from her school saw where Esperanza lived, she said, “You live there?” (703). That made Esperanza feel like nothing and made her realize she needs a real house, one that is really nice. Esperanza wants to change her life and make the best of what she has.
For many people, the childhood house they grew up in has countless memories, both good and bad. However, the concept of home is not confined to a single house or location-- instead, home is mostly made by the people in it. Although this can sometimes be forgotten, the home matters far more than the house. The experiences someone goes through in their home serve as lessons that over time begin to shape their view of the world and themselves. In Jeannette Walls’
A Moving Experience Moving houses had always been strenuous for me, especially since my family had moved multiple times. This was my family’s third time moving. We were moving from California to Indiana. Even though it was my third time moving, I still found it arduous to move locations and to say goodbye to the friends I made in California.
I have lived in two different worlds. The duality of the immigrant experience is a battle that every first-generation child has to wage. As I conquered my language barrier, a whole new world full of traditions and customs opened up. Seeking acceptance from my peers, it was hard not to adopt their culture and ignore my own in the process. However, abandonment was not an option in a family with a strong cultural identity.
As a child of immigrant parents, my formative years in elementary and middle school were shaped by two important factors: the environment in which I lived and my background. My parents worked hard to settle into a new life in a foreign country to provide better opportunities for our family. This meant that we had to be flexible about where we lived due to relocating for jobs, and fluid about our ideas of culture. I recall the daunting nature of moving to a new city, twice, as a child. The prospect of leaving everything that was familiar to me and forming new friendships in an unfamiliar environment was a challenge.
My eyes automatically drifted to the tall bright palm tree that moved along with the rhythm of the wind. It’s leafs danced as they presented their welcome. The sun shined down and hugged me with warmth, giving my skin a tingling, but satisfying sensation. I had come from Virginia to California, the famous, constantly spoken of state, that finally reached my sight. The state presented its beautiful attributes to capture my wonder and mesmerization.
Moving is always hard. It is harder if you are moving from your birthplace to a culturally different country after spending most of your teenage years. I moved from Bangladesh to New York about a year and a half ago and let me tell you, it was not easy. I had to leave the place I grew up in, my friends and relatives and start a new life here in America. Probably the only good part was that at least I was with my family throughout this hardship.