Personal Narrative: My First Generation American

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,

I 'm a first generation Asian-American. I was born in Lima, Peru, right before my parents came to America from China, and we moved to America when I was one. Growing as a first generation American, my parents worked a lot. I can 't say that I wasn 't loved, but my bond with my parents was weak because I was always home alone, being babysat by others, or going out because they had to work. As a child, I would do things like steal from my mother 's wallet and use the money on those claw machines with the stuffed animals. A few times, I poured out all of the body soap and shampoo into the drain. Looking back to it now, I realize that I only did these things because I wanted attention from my parents. I remember one

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.

from the time that I was in high school, I though in getting the citizenship through my mom,but I noticed that she was really scared of applying, so I didn 't bother her and chose to wait the require time to apply by myself after two years of waiting, I stared the process and the fist step was filling the application in Internet, second was taking the on us office and last was taking an oath, after all this steps finally I got my citizenship.

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.

In 2009, the U.S. Census gathered that there were over thirty-three million second-generation immigrants living in America. America is a melting pot, and in this melting pot, it isn’t uncommon for these children, myself included, to lose sight of what our lives could be–and the struggles that our parents faced to ensure that we have more opportunities than they had. As I write this essay, I’m stressing over the things any other American high school sophomore faces– grades, social drama and statuses, and my follower count on Twitter and Instagram. These “problems,” if even that, are minute to what others our age face around the world. Young adults in Sudan are starving, and young adults in Syria live in the middle of a war zone. As far away They raised two kids: my 19-year-old brother, who is currently a freshman at the University of Georgia, and myself. Thanks to their hard work, I’m able to worry about the things I do. Never have I worried about not having food on my plate, about being denied my education, or being forced to leave everything I know and abandon my dreams. It’s easy to forget what my parents have done for me, for the opportunities and doors they have opened for me. There’s no way to understand your life–the privileges you hold–without understanding the past. You must be thankful for all the things your loved ones have done for you, and I’m sure that I am. I can’t imagine my life if I were in my parents’ shoes, if I faced the struggles and hardships they did, and I know I wouldn’t have the courage to be as decisive as they were and are. Their perseverance and determination make me content with my life now, knowing that it could be much worse. Their experiences motivate me to capitalize on what they gave me–to become something. I want to be sure that my parents know I’m thankful and know that I will work hard to become what they didn’t have the opportunity to. 11th Grade Columbus High School Anjali Patel 5th

I am a first-generation Hispanic-American. Being born and spending my childhood in south Florida made my Hispanic culture so accessible that I would think in Spanish instead of English. In my home, Spanish was the first language spoken since my father and mother are from Panama and Peru respectively, and most of my family did not speak English. I was so immersed in my family’s culture that I even learned the “Peruvian dance”-Marinera. I loved walking into my home and smelling the fresh Peruvian dish my mom was cooking. That was all about to change. In 2009, Florida was struggling with unemployment and real estate issues. We moved to a small town near Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania called Cranberry Township. We moved because my father’s job transferred

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

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.

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.

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 ?

Growing up in an immigrant household in America, was difficult. I didn’t live, I learned to adapt. I learned to adapt to the fact that I did not look like any of my peers, so I changed. Adapted to the fact that my hair texture would never be like any of my peers, so I changed. Adapted to the fact that I was not as financially well off as my peers, so I changed. Adapted to the fact that unlike other people who have families of four, I had a family of seven and numerous amounts of close relatives. That my parents, although lived in America for quite sometimes grew up in Nigeria, so English was not their first language so I adapted and changed myself in order to fit into societal standards. I learned to understand and interpret my parents’ native Igbo dialect but left that part of myself at home so that people will view me as the perfect American citizen.

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.

Several individuals from different ethnicities, races, and citizenships, compose a society. The United Sates allow us to have a close interaction with numerous individuals from diverse backgrounds. In my own case I have been able to interact with many incredible individuals from all over the world who come from extremely different backgrounds. I am a proud Mexican who cherishes respect towards diversity. Coming from a very suffered country I am able to understand not only what does it means to feel proud to be a Latino, but also I can feel acquainted with the pain and struggle that our community has to face every day.

My geographic narrative isn’t your typical Texas A&M student story, 2 years ago I moved to College Station from my home in Salinas, California but once you read my story you’ll realize that move isn’t as random as it seems. My mom grew up in San Antonio Texas, but lived in several different places in her younger years because her father was an Air Force Kernel. She attended Texas A&M University in College Station and was a part of the graduating class of 1980. After college my mom moved by herself to Los Angeles, California and after a couple years met my father there. My dad is a third generation Californian, with his grandparents settling by the Sacramento River in northern California and his father and mother settling in Los Angles where