Personal Narrative: Growing Up In A Latino Community

I come from an authentic Hispanic family, who is traditional in plenty distinct aspects. We treasure all the memories that have occurred to all of us and we laugh about the embarrassing moments we all had. We hold traditional customs and we accept new traditions as well. All of us are over protective of each and every family member, meaning that if anyone in the family has a problem we will not stop until it is fixed. To every family member, family is always first.

I identify as a Latina. I have always considered myself as a Latina, but throughout time, I believe that I have assimilated more into a white individual because of the privilege that I hold and because I have lived in the US most of my life. I have received mostly negative messages from those who are not from my ethnicity. My peers and I were told we wouldn’t graduate high school and be laborers for the rest of our lives. With the current politics, I believe that this still holds true where some people still hold stereotypes and give oppressing messages to Latinos. This exposed me to certain microaggressions, such as If I was really born here and if I speak English. I have received a mix of positive and negative messages from those who are of my same

I am very proud of my Hispanic heritage. Even though, I am an United States citizen, I am always going to belong to my Hispanic backgrounds. There are so many reasons that I am proud to be Guatemalan and American that I could write a whole book about it. However, I regularly participate in my Hispanic culture and community through my family, traditions, and by being bilingual. One way I fit into my Hispanic community is by my family. They are from Guatemala. That means that I am Guatemalan, even though I was not born where my parents were born. Another way I interact with my Hispanic community is being

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.

Being a child of immigrant parents is not easy. You are constantly living in the fear that one day you’ll wake up and you parents won’t be there with you anymore. Specially now that we have a new president, things are getting more challenging. But don’t get me wrong, I live a happy life. I am proud to call myself a Latina. Being a child of immigrant parents has taught me so much. For example, being able to work hard for what you want. At school, I always strive to get A’s. My parent’s have taught me to never settle for anything less than a B. They know that in order for me to go to college and be successful, I not only have to get good grades but work hard to get there. I love a good challenge. Sometimes it’s not about the obstacles you face,

As a member of a working class community, my life has been a struggle between resources and opportunities available for me. Having sparse resources has lead me to the constant push of working towards the things I’ve achieved. Social identities have become a guidance for my future goals and abilities. Being working class Latina, raised in a Catholic family has created many barriers and pathways into the future I wish to hold. Furthermore, taking all the social identities I have grew into have become the bases for my educational goals and identity.

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

In Clara E. Rodriguez essay of, "What It Means to Be Latino," she writes about how Latinos are the fastest growing population group in United States. Within the Latino population, Latinos define their own racial and ethnic identity within the term, Hispanic and Latino and how they refuse to define themselves. In the Latino culture there are many small ethnic groups so there aren't much of other terms to use towards them.

I was sitting in the tattoo parlor with my head resting on the black leather chair staring at my mom from the corner of my eye. I could not tell if she wanted to curse everyone in the room or cry, I came to the conclusion that it was it was probably both. In my mom’s words, I was getting a hole drilled into my nose. In my words, it was a nose piercing. This was the biggest fight I’ve ever had with my mom. She was completely opposed to the idea of me getting one and we had argued about it for almost a year. At one point we didn’t talk to her for a week. Tears were shed and sarcastic remarks were thrown around until she finally agreed to let me do it. So I found myself getting my nose pierced by and guy who was definitely too old to be wearing a leather jacket and a face filled with so many piercing I didn’t want to count. This, while my mom stared everyone down with a furry that could burn the building down.

Although I, my parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, and previous generations were born in the United States; being an involuntary immigrant is something that has always crossed my mind since I was a young child. I always wondered what life would be like now if our ancestors were never taken from our home and brought to “America”, but what African American hasn’t. Growing up a young African American female with sickle cell anemia I’ve encountered several socio-cultural dynamic situations. As a child, my parents somewhat sheltered me from the reality and negativity of the world, partly because I would be too young to understand, and because they wanted me to make my own decisions. I went to an elementary school that was predominantly black,

I was born and raised in the southernmost past of Texas in a city named Brownsville where diversity is almost non-existent. Growing up in a city with one of the highest poverty rates was surprisingly not as much a struggle as you may think. My father had a decent job with a salary of around 48,000, but that number varies every year. He is the captain of a shrimp boat and has owned his very own boat a few times. For this reason, my father was frequently absent in my life and still is to this day. My father being away is inevitable. He has to support his family, especially because my mother cannot work. My mother is an immigrant here in the United States. She came to America in 1987 and got pregnant with my oldest sister, Amber, in 1988. She

“Our attitude towards immigration reflects our faith in the American ideal. We have always believed it possible for men and women who start at the bottom to rise as far as the talent and energy allow. Neither race nor place of birth should affect their chances” (Cotton).

All around the world, Americans are known for possessing certain characteristics. We are seen as ignorant, selfish, but also hardworking. Americans are known for these characteristics and I see them in people that I know every day.

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.

The next morning could 've gone better in retrospect. I woke up to an alarm ringing feverishly in my ear. When I sluggishly smacked it, rather than it successfully turning off, it fell of my desk, hit the floor, and continued ringing, just as loud, if not louder. I looked to the ceiling in disdain. Following the rude awakening was the realization I would have to go to school. On my birthday. I was now fifteen. If I were a latina woman, this would mark my transition into womanhood, and we would have a big party to celebrate. Unfortunately, I was not. Unfortunately, I was a pudgy, white teenager in America, who might get a cake.