I want to start my story before I was even born. My dad came to the United States but my mom was still in the Philippines. Then when I was born in the Philippines, my mom took care of me for five years while my dad was working a minimum wage job in the U.S., trying to earn enough money to send both my mom and I to the United States so we could all have a better life, one where we could prosper more due to the opportunities that the U.S. provides. I grew up going to a public school from kindergarten to 5th grade where I met people of different races. When I was in school being in ESL (English as a Second Language) exposed me to even more people of color such as Mexicans, Middle Eastern people, Turkish people, Latinos, and other Asian people.
My mother is an immigrant. A hardworking, pious woman who moved to a foreign country in order to raise her children and offer them everything she could. After her first three children, my mother grew accustomed to her feeling of loneliness. She was often left alone with three young children, dealing with their constant bickering and nagging. On top of that she had limited communication with others, due to a language barrier, no car and no friends in this new world. She struggled with her decision to stop working and put her schooling on pause. She struggled with injuries from childbearing. She struggled with her marriage, a marriage that took place between two very young lovers blind of reality, and shocked when hit with it. She often engaged
As a child I would always see my parents work hard for every dollar they made. When I reached my teenage years I realized that it was because they were immigrants to this country and took whatever job opportunity they could find. I also came to realize that I was an immigrant, and that life was tougher for not having the proper documentation. This year I fell into the biggest hole of my life. I learned that I was not going to get financial aid because of my legal status and my mother was also diagnosed with a tumer last month. I fell into a depression thinking I was not going to be able to go to college. My mother also could not get her surgery until she had insurance which she could not get because of her legal status. As I laid crying I came
This autobiographical essay will define my experience as a Dominican immigrant living in New York City. Being an American citizen with a Dominican background are extremely relevant to the process of political socialization. My family background is founded on the principles of democratic values, which taught to me by my mother and father. In New York City, I found a “melting pot” of different immigrants that allowed me to feel more accepted as a Dominican living in the United States. More so, these aspects of the socialization process provided a foundation for my belief in democratic values throughout my life. My experiences as an immigrant have certainly been difficult in some cases of racism, but I have generally been accepted as an American
My family consist of five people: my mother, father, sister, brother, and me. My dad works as a landscaper. My mom works at Ross dress for less, she works in taking out the merchandise from the boxes and putting them on the hangers, she has been working there for almost 10 years now. My parents immigrated here from Mexico to America a long time ago, before I was born, making them immigrants. My sister is 13 years old and my brother is 15. As for me, I am the oldest of my brother and sister, which means having to take up responsibility at a young age, and growing up early. Some of the responsibilities that i had to do was taking care of my brother and sister while my parents went to work, i’m the one who read all the important paperwork that would come in. I feel that even though i had to grow up early I received a little more trust when it came to going out with friends. Throughout my whole life I have only did one major move and it was from Concord to Antioch( not a huge distance), I moved when I was 6 or 7, and there wasn 't a lot to miss since I was at that stage where moving was the best part, also I barely to understood what was happening most of the time. I started 1st grade when I moved here to Antioch and the classes had already started so I was one of
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.
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.
When I was fourteen, my parents told me that we are moving to the USA for my bright future. We were sponsored by my aunt and uncle in this new world. Education in India, especially with a dream of becoming a Doctor, is expensive. My parents want me to be a successful doctor, but financial crisis was our barrier. I came to America in the search of opportunities and a successful future. However, this path was not as smooth as I thought. The reality is that life for immigrants like me is very tough and full of challenges. I faced educational and financial challenges in the USA, especially the first six months with sudden changes. However, these barriers affected my personal character by making me a hardworking, mature and manageable person.
First generation immigrants sacrifice their adulthood in search of a better life for their family and for future generations to come. My father came from Peru to support his family. He was the first person in his family to come to America. He works in road construction from morning until night so that my family is supported. The desire to repay both of my parents is the belief that guides my life.
Ever since I was young, I knew that my mother did not have it easy when she came to America. She was a strong single mother, who could not speak English, living in a foreign land. Knowing that my mother had sacrificed everything she had in hope of establishing a better future and life for me, I had to repay her.
Immigration is a very broad topic, taking into consideration all of the emotional aspects it also provokes for the group of minorities that fall into this category in the United States. Although America is the home of a range of diversity, many still wish that their hopes of completing their “American dream” does not end soon. The Deferred Act for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) is shortly coming to a complete end. This privilege of having the act gives many the opportunity to be considered a citizen and have most of the benefits that this act offers. But there are still immigrants, like Jose Antonio Vargas, out there who “even though I think of myself as an American and consider America my country, my country doesn’t think of me as one of its own.”
I was born in Southern Los Angeles and lived in a conserved community of predominantly hispanic immigrants seeking socioeconomic prosperity for their families and an adequate education for their children. My family was a part of this community and as such, I was always met with a high standard for education and was taught to fully appreciate the benefits that followed it. I would constantly be reminded of these benefits when I would continuously witness not only my own family struggle, but when neighbors and friends also struggled to provide essential payments for their utilities, food, or rent. These financial struggles stubbornly persisted to haunt my family and in 2008 we were in no position to maintain our home and consequently lost it. This drastically strained family
I spent the first half of my life on an island 210 square meters in area in the middle of the Pacific and the last half travelling the world and much of the United States. 1st generation immigrants from the Philippines raised me and it was from them that I learned the definition of hard work and true perseverance. Guam, the forgotten territory of the US, is a melting pot of various Asian influences with a distinct Spanish heritage and a culture that has shaped me to my very core. After growing up with so much exposure to different groups of people, I am a firm believer that diversity and respect for other cultures is integral in being an effective and competent healthcare worker. My opportunity to be president of my church’s “Christian family
The world is filled with people, and like snowflakes, each person is not the same as another. Each person identifies with different aspects of their lives to create their own personal identities. I personally identify with my Italian side of my family to help form who I am today. I have found myself connecting with this side more so than the other parts of my identity. It affects how I live my life by becoming the center to the culture surrounding me. However, my ethnic identity as an Italian American also influences how I live when it comes to my religion, and how my religion affects my life alongside my ethnicity. I will expand on this issue on how I express my ethnic and religious identity in regards to each other.