Even though they received food, it was not very appetizing. The soup was the worst part, it contained rutabaga, rye flour, Avo food extract, some groats, and potatoes. To newcomers, the soup seemed very unpleasant, guiding them to not eat it. Next is the
Growing up in Mexico City your entire life, and then coming to the United States is quite a journey. Many of my hispanic friends inside and outside of school have similar stories. They live in Mexico, and one day their parents decide it’s time to move up north. They seek adventure, better opportunities, and a sense of hope that deep inside them screams it’s going to be worth it.
I believe the term, hispanic, itself does not define who I am. I define who I am and who I want to become. However, I do come from a Mexican heritage. Coming from a Mexican heritage has influenced and deeply impacted my life. My heritage has taught me a lot. I have learned growing up to value my identity, values, faith, and family.
Around four-forty in the morning, a lady came to the Reedley hospital to give birth. That baby was coming on their way to the hospital but just on time to give birth, was in a room. The baby was very small and chubby but was truly strong and healthy. This particular baby was soon to be named after her father, Fernando. Fernanda had no problems whatsoever therefore her parents were grateful since there were many children in this world that suffer a great deal for their problems in health.
Breakfast time was almost over, dad woke up and started to put the baggage into the car. We started driving on the road as soon as we finished our breakfast. The road was beautiful and it took us almost 9 hours to get there. I was car sick and I was sleeping most the time. The place I woke up is in Los Angeles and we ate our lunch at Los Angeles. As we arrived at San Diego, we first went to our hotel at dropped our baggage at the hotel. The next thing we did was to go to eat our dinner which is Korean B.B.Q. We went to a small walk at Target after we ate our dinner. While we were driving back to our hotel, we saw there was a CheeseCake Factory beside our hotel, and we went there for our desert.
I am crossing the border to the U.S because my parents think it will give us a new beginning and a better life. I think they’re wrong. Our life in El Salvador was fine: We had a nice house and we were healthy. Here, none of that is true.
January 11, 2013, I wake up to yelling, prayers, and crying. I walked into the kitchen where all the noises were coming from and I found my mother on the floor crying, talking on the phone with my godmother. My father was there by her side, trying hard not to cry while supporting his wife. I didn’t know what was happening, this was the first time I’ve seen my mom so vulnerable and broken. My parents didn’t tell me anything other than my grandmother was in critical condition at the hospital, but with god's help she would overcome this hard time. My mom hung up the phone and went to “La Grande” a Mexican store to buy a card to call my uncle in Cuba, to see how my grandmother was doing. My godmother has two daughters who work at the hospital
I am not white, but I am not Mexican either. I am, however, a first generation Mexican American with parents from San Luis Potosi, Mexico. Perhaps I do not know what it is like to cross the border that refrains me from being Mexican, or the color of my skin that refrains me from being white, but my own personal experiences make me the Mexican American that I am today.
El Paso and Ciudad Juarez lie side by side, but are separated by the Rio Grande. The border’s way of life relies on the dividing line. As a resident of Ciudad Juarez, I experience a blend of cultures on an everyday basis. However, in 2010 the unique culture of the city was darkened by the shedding violence in Ciudad Juarez. Ciudad Juarez came to be known as the deadliest city in the world.
If you are feeling a little confused that’s okay, this is judgment free zone. I am twenty three years old and on the verge of graduating this December, And my interpretation of messages changes every day that I mature and grow as a person. Everyone is different and entitled to their own unique interpretation of messages. For example, I am Mexican American I was born in Las, Cruces New Mexico but my family is from Mexico. And everyday I find new meanings in the messages I receive from parents. Because I think in both Spanish and English so my translations are a bit different. From the words I exchange verbally with parents to the way I view them as my Mexican parents growing up in America. I can recall countless times growing up that I was not
Never have I taken my culture into consideration, but I would more than likely classify my culture as Latino/Hispanic. For starters, I was born in a lovely place called Chihuahua, Mexico. This place is the reason I consider myself a Latino. Why is this my culture you ask? My whole daily lifestyle revolves around this Hispanic heritage. The foods I consume, the language I speak, and the music I listen to all represent my Hispanic culture. Yet, these aspects also link to historical traditions and modern traditions. As for the foods that me and my family make, tamales, chilaquiles, quesadillas, tacos, fajitas, you name it. These foods represent the origins in which they came from. Not only are they delicious, but they remind me of my country.
I am a Mexican woman. I have a big, round face, flat nose, and small, squinted eyes. My skin is light brown, an everlasting tan. And I have hair as unruly, and out of control, as a monkey hyped up on drugs. Since the day I started paying attention to the world around me, it has been ingrained into my mind that the only people who have a chance at success would look nothing like me. A woman. Colored heritage. And this combination made me the abomination. My presence was already the wrong path towards success and greatness. This is my chance to come in from the sidelines. To create something great, to be someone great. Even with my ‘disadvantages’. I will stay ahead of the game, to be able to reach the finish line of my life. A finish line full of wonderful things and great accomplishments, not just for myself but for those who have helped me along the way.
My grandfather asked me “Which one?” I respond “Let’s get this one”. Little did I know that guinea pig was my dinner. Guinea pigs or cuy are not pets but food in Ecuador.When I arrived at the airport it looked like any typical airport, but it felt as if I was in a different world. I remember seeing a whole bunch of random people at the airport. And then this whole group of people is crowding around me and it took me a while to put all the pieces together and I see my brother saying hi to everyone and then I realized holy cow this is my family. On the way to the car I was counting how many people were actually here and I had 6 uncle 's, 6 aunt 's, more than 15 cousins and 4 grandparents. I could not believe my eyes for the first time in eleven years I was with family. The first two weeks living in Ecuador was a challenge.
From the stories my mother has told, the journey from Morelos, Mexico to El Paso, Texas was treacherous. From the dirty, murderous streets of Tijuana to the endless hot Chihuahuan desert. My mother and my four older siblings, who were of the ages of seven, five, three, and two, were part of a group of 15 people. They were lead by a guide who knew the desert well and had taken many others before them to the land opportunity. It took 16 days to reach to El Paso, Texas. From there, they were all alone. None of them knew English or the way to a safe shelter but they continued on in search of a better life in which they would flourish. Many immigrants from all over the world see America as the country where success is blind to race. Here, they
In the day and year of my birth on July 27, 1998. I was born in the state of New Mexico though this doesn 't mean that I lived in New Mexico for a very long time. My father Jimmie Herrera and my mother Janethin Herrera, both born and raised in New Mexico, but they didn’t finished high school and so we moved to different places to places until my dad gotten a perfect job with the pay very well that we moved and stayed in a small town in Gypsum Colorado, where I spent my youth for only about fifteen years until we moved to New Mexico on the year 2014. From that time I have lived in Colorado, I did not know of my origins, what to do in the future, and constantly lose my self respect until a climactic event arose during my years in middle school.