Personal Narrative: My Family As An Immigrant

July 4th, America declared independence from Britain. Ironically, on July 4th, 1997, my parents came to the U.S , declaring independence from their own country. Christians in Egypt were beaten up, wrongly convicted, and killed. My parents did not want to raise their children in such a corrupt society and desired to come to America to pursue a better way of life . On November 26, 1999, I was born and my parents knew that this would mean a worse financial crisis. My dad spent most of his day working overtime and even then, he still had to ask for financial support from his brother. After saving just enough money to pay for rent, we rented a one bedroom apartment with roaches, fleas, and ticks. We lived off of food stamps and some government

Scotty: Dude look at all those Mexicans crossing the border illegally and stealing our jobs! It makes me really mad!! Why can’t they just stay in their own country?

About 20 years ago my parents came to the United States from Mexico in order to give their children a better life. As I near the end of my high school career I realize now that what they wanted for my siblings and I was a fresh start from poverty and the opportunity to a higher education.

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.

For many immigrant families moving into the U.S the culture shock is significant. Families can easily be overwhelmed by their need to fit into their new surroundings. This is especially true for children in these families. It is easy for children to get caught up in the American way of life, and that can cause the original culture to be forgotten. That is why the adults in these families have to enforce their native culture on their children, so the adults can make sure that those customs are not forgotten.

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

As a teenager moving to a new country with a different culture, different language, and being thousands of miles away from everyone I grew up with was not an easy change, however, that was precisely what I did in January of 2013 when I came to the United States with my father. My whole world changed since, and shaped my way of thinking. From learning English, adjusting to a new culture, experiencing my first snow and finding my way in my new country, my life has been an exciting adventure.

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

Doning the title as a hispanic goes far beyond how one looks and speaks, but rather how one conducts himself through every step of their life. I greatly contribute my hispanic roots in shaping me into the young man I am today. The morals and traditions instilled in me such as my unparalleled work ethic and family values leach from my upcoming in a strong hispanic lifestyle.

More than twelve million immigrants will make their first stop in America at Ellis Island Immigration station in the years ahead between 1892 and 1954, at least that's what we read. Who knew a small island in the New York Harbor would become my life saver ?

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 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

I come from a strong Hispanic background on both sides of my family, my ancestors from my father’s side of the family originally came from Spain and migrated to Mexico. My family still holds true to Mexican culture and most traditions, despite becoming Americanized. However, all the schools that I attended were mostly white, especially my current school. With that being said, I had a hard time making friends at my high school, I felt that I couldn’t really connect with anyone. I still remember my freshman year in Art class, however. I sat next to a boy named Anthony. I just saw Anthony as another typical student at Rock Canyon; a snobby, pretentious white boy. We hardly ever talked to one another for the first two weeks except for the first day of class when the teacher forces everyone to introduce themselves and all the students reluctantly participate.

It was two years ago when I decided I had reached the age of responsibility to take action and find a job of my own. My first anticipation was to apply everywhere I could within my range. Completing numerous amounts of online applications I felt confident. Patiently and foolishly I waited for a call. “Someone has to call me; I’ve applied to everywhere in town.” I thought. However that was completely opposite to the reality I addressed.

While every other thirteen year old my age had new shoes; I had to take care of mine since mid summer up until late winter. I remember I was a forthcoming freshman when I underwent an unfortunate immigration odyssey. I was not too young yet not too old to cope with the situation--however, social pressures did creep up on my shoulders. This unfortunate event did not only reflect itself on my footwear--it also shattered the pink colored glasses I saw life through.