Personal Narrative: My First Generation Of Asian Americans

This paragraph from Kesaya Noda’s autobiographical essay “Growing Up Asian in America” represents the conflict that the author feels between her Japanese ethnicity, and her American nationality. The tension she describes in the opening pages of her essay is between what she looks like and is judged to be (a Japanese woman who faces racial stereotypes) versus what she feels like and understands (life as a United States citizen). This passage signals her connection to Japan; and highlights her American upbringing.

Growing up as a first-generation Mexican American was a huge advantage for me in that it allowed me to grow up in a culturally diverse community. I learned how to work well with people of all backgrounds and empathize with people from all walks of life. However, while being the first in my family to go to college was a momentous accomplishment, the lack of instruction and guidance lead me to commit many mistakes that could have been easily avoided during my first years at college. My timidity and downright arrogance lead me to believe that I did not need anyone’s assistance and thus I found myself denial that there was a problem in terms of my grades during my first semesters. I have since addressed this issue and have worked diligently to

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 was raised in a traditional Vietnamese household where the sharp, lingering taste of bitter melon was a treat, family was everything, and everyone spoke Vietnamese. However, I lived in a community where speaking English was the majority and I was very clearly, a minority. There were hardly any other people who spoke Vietnamese where I lived. Because of this, I slowly lost my grasp with the Vietnamese language and my ability to communicate with my family This was terrifying for me; as a result, I have made efforts to learn and speak Vietnamese even though it sounds horrendous because I still have a voice and want to be heard.

The reason for which something is done or created or for which something exists is the dictionary definition of purpose.  Everyday of our lives people look to find the purpose of the activities that they complete.  Authors share their perspectives on life with their literature.  A reader’s interpretation of the purpose of a writing can vary to the prior knowledge of a topic.  The point that a writer tries to get across can say a lot about their political views.  You can find these views by taking notes on how the characters act and interact or the style of the writing.  Ayn Rand uses a simple writing style to push her points through.  In the novella Anthem, Ayn Rand's shows the purpose in her writing by explaining how individuality leads to progress in the future.

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

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.

Everyday I walk into my English class is the moment I experience an identity crisis. As I approach the entrance to the class, I already detected the dichotomy in the room. On the right side lies the Caucasian students, and on the left, resides the International Chinese students. As the only Asian American in the class, I struggle to select the correct side.

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

Life as a Native American sucks. I realized this when I was a little kid. I’ve come to accept that what other people label or describes us as are true. I’m not happy to admit this they are right. My people don’t do anything to prove these people’s claims, or better known as stereotypes, about Native Americans wrong. Instead they do the complete opposite and just give these people all the reasons why they are right about how Native Americans are. I realized how my people being called as alcoholic, poor, and uneducated are all sadly true. For example, on New Year’s eve, my family had a big party which was suppose to be fun. It was suppose to be a good get-together family party, but as expected it wasn’t like that at all. My two uncles, named Adolph and Arnold, got into a very bloody fistfight with each other due to all of the drinking that they had. As a

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.

Growing up in California, my whole life has been around farming and like many others, it’s how I make a living. It’s now been at least a year, living through the Dust bowl and many people have migrated to California with the hope of surviving this crisis. Keeping my crops has become a struggle and that's what most people including me depend on. I am lucky enough to be able to pay my mortgages even though I’m not able to keep the land with the help of family. It’s practically impossible. Each day doesn’t seem to get better, only worse. Sunlight is almost rare, It’s as if the world is coming to end after all. I try to stay inside as often as I can because facing what’s outside is a dreadful thing but at some point of the day I’ll need to run

Growing up as Hmong-American youth, I was raised by a father who joined the military when he was twelve years old. He was forced into the Vietnam war fighting for safety, peace, and a relationship with the United States of America. Through this military influence and discipline at such a young age, my father accepted the military lifestyle. He carried it over from the Vietnam war to my family today. Growing up, my father was always strict on me, especially when it came to my appearances and education. Indeed, if people saw how my father raised me, they would think he was a typical, stereotype Asian father who wanted his son to get A’s. But, to me, it was not anything like that. Instead, I saw that my father wanted me to do well in education because he understood that this world has a system, and by being successful in the education system, I can survive in any system since the education system is by far one of the

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.

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.