Awoke from a brave man who sailed the sea. An idea, a chance of hope, was born. Battled for an identity of prosperity for all, consequently we rose up to become America the land of inalienable liberties straight from our maker. Growing despite dividing America has always overcame division growing smarter and tougher through her conflicts. We truly became America when all of America got equality and so America gave down rights to all her people.
In my opinion being American means not only living here, but following the law and respecting your elders, but it also means doing the traditions and and my family that is going to one of my family member 's house for Easter this year we went to my cousin Melissa’s and that is an Easter I will never forget.
Upon meeting me, not many people know that I am a first generation American. However, they are usually interested in the orgin of my last name. I am in fact Ukranian. Both my parents and my older sister were born in Ukraine. They immigrated to America in 1992 because of religious persecution that they were facing. After immigrated, they had three more children. I was the second child to be born in America in 1996. I have lived in Denver Colorado my entire life and I currenty am attending Regis University.
The American Identity is more than just being a citizen in America. What makes the American Identity is the diversity that exists in America. America is a melting pot, which consists of many ethnic groups, religions, and ideas. It isn’t the appearance that makes you American, it is your mind and the way one acts make one American. I am a kid who is part Korean, French, and Chinese. My mom is Korean and Chinese, and my dad is French and Chinese. I do celebrate Lunar New Year with some of my relatives on my mother’s side, but my dad doesn’t celebrate any French holidays. To be qualified as an American, one must be unique in their own way, and love freedom.
Anxiety, it’s the feeling that came over me when I arrived at the airport to come to America. I was born in Brasil, it was my home. So boy was I shocked when I heard that we were moving to the United States, and I was only six years old. My parents thought we would have a better life here in America because, with all the “opportunities” it offered, it was the place to be. My father flew over one month before I was scheduled to; he planned on getting everything situated by finding a job and a place for us to live. Even with all the American movies I watched, my favorite being Batman, I only had a vague idea of what it would be like to live there. My mother would tell me, taking advantage of my young guilble mind, that I would love it, make a
The first eight years of my life, I spent in India where I was born. Growing up I was constantly reminded by my parents that I needed to make them proud by getting a good job and living a good lifestyle. They told me this because they did not want to see me live a hard life like they did. When I was nine years old, I moved from India to the United States of America. The reason why I moved to America was not because I was living a bad life in India, it was so that I could have a better education and more opportunities in life. When I came to America, I had to go through much struggle. First and the most important was that I did not know how to speak English. Apart from this I was very shy, so I didn’t communicate with people frequently.
My identity has always felt inextricably linked to what Miami is. A city that is teeming with immigrants, a city with dreams stacked and slopped atop each other, and a city that is living proof of the failed American dream. I say so because of my early observation that generation after generation of immigrants often seemed to stay trapped in dead end jobs; I saw this within my own family – within my grandmother, my aunts and uncles, and even my cousins. Here it was even within my own family tree the deep implicit message that there was no way out of our socioeconomic level. When I made it into an Ivy League college, it was a message that was slowly re-enforced by the fact that my demographic was the most represented in the custodial staff rather than within my own classmates. I often wondered why, and the answer slowly became obvious within my own experience. Throughout college, I was often distracted from my studies because of economic and personal pressures. I slowly came to realize that being able to focus on your goals is a privilege that is often not granted to individuals of a low socioeconomic level. The stakes were high for my academic and professional goals, but they were often seemingly made unattainable by personal pressures.
What does it mean to be an American today? Or rather, what does being an American entail? Does that pertain to a certain individual’s perspective? Or is Americanism defined through a collective consciousness projected around the world? Over the course of time, Americans have gone through various embodiments of who they are, without loosing the essence of what they represent. In the 1800’s, America was known to be the state of slaveholders, a country represented by “whiteness” and “white elites.” In 1965, African Americans were allowed the right to vote. In 2004, the U.S State of Massachusetts allowed for same sex couples to be married. As of 2015, 43.3 million people in the United States are considered to be immigrants. Throughout the centuries,
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 can remember it like it was yesterday. My parents left me when I was fifteen years old to go to America. I thought to myself for one year, they left me here to starve, live, and die alone in eastern Europe. When I was sixteen years old I got ready to move to America and start a new life. I thought to myself I wonder if my parents are dead or alive. They really didn't mean anything to me anymore anyways.
I used to have this grudges in my heart when everything go hard that would made me wanted to blame my parent. But I can’t because I was not raise to think that way. When I come to America, I was eleven years old and no one asked me if I wanted to come it just happen in a second. I was in a cold place with extended family that I never met before and that one person who raise me and made me feel secure was still back in the country. I had to lived months without her and next thing you know I adapted and convince myself they are doing this because the wanted the best for me. It been ten years since I have not seen Haiti. I miss the smell, the people, the ongoing language, the natural food and the atmosphere. This trip is very important because
Growing up I always knew my mindset was far past my years. The way my mind worked was different and older than those kids around me, so it was no surprise for me to be on my own right from the get go after turning 18. For as long as I can remember I have always done everything by myself especially school related. My parents are Hispanic and speak little English, making me the first person in my family to attend college. My parents brought me to the United States from Mexico at the age of four and I have lived in Oklahoma ever since. This is home. Being brought here as a toddler, now makes my status here in the U.S. a resident of Oklahoma thanks to the differed action known as DACA. This does put a set back on my plans to attend college because
Its 1914 and I just got the news that we were finally going to America! We have been waiting for several years trying to save up money and figure everything out. Going to America is almost every ones dream here in Europe. Just like Oscar Hammerston said, “ You gotta have a dream. If you don't have a dream, how are you going to make a dream come true.” Most wanted to go to America to escape poverty, famine, or to get religious freedom. We will be leaving tomorrow. I will go to America with my mom and sister, my dad is already over there. We will have to walk about 60 miles to get to the boat and then the boat ride over to America will be a long and grueling journey. My mom hollered at me to start packing. She told me I could only bring two
Hello, I’m twenty two years old and I’m an African-American female. My major is Business Administration and I’m currently not a member of any sports teams, but In high school I was on the national honors society I have two social networking sites which are Facebook and Instagram. Additionally, I 'm also an older sibling to my two younger
When I was seven, I asked my mom why she had come to America from Ethiopia. She told me that she had come so that I could have things that she didn’t, get the education she couldn’t, and see and do things she wouldn’t. I told her that I was going to make her proud and even though I was seven, I was stubborn, and set my goals high and worked hard. I will forever remember my mother crying as I got my college acceptance letters. Now, as a junior at Old Dominion College as an international affairs major, I’m setting to make her proud again.