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 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.
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 ?
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.
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.
My parents immigrated from Mexico to the United States. In the year of 1996, my mother, Olga Arroyo, conceived me, her only child. For the most part of my childhood, we were a wonderful family. However, once I entered sixth grade, I noticed my parents constantly arguing. This never ended until my father, Daniel Arroyo, became violent. Because of his violence, I had to get others, such as the authorities, involved. Through it all, my mother displayed a love that I presently aspire to have, and my father asked for forgiveness. I hope that I could be like my father in the sense that I could recognize my failures and subsequently ask for forgiveness. My father always worked hard and provided for his family. Thus, I view the need for parents to
My parents moved from Colombia to the United States before I was born. I am apart of the first generation in my family that was born here. My parents moved with the single hope of giving me a better life with more opportunities. Having this background has definitely impacted my life in both trivial and meaningful ways. For instance, my father not being able to break through the language barrier has been an integral part of my lifestyle. He has been living in this country for a while now, but has never picked up English fluently. This led me to become his translator for as long as I can remember. Even today I accompany him to his workplace to help close deals and talk to contractors. This was but one of many examples of how my Hispanic background
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 this letter tells of how I crossed the border between Mexico and the United States. I left my house in Guatemala at 4:30 in the morning bound for Mexico on 28 January 2002. Arrived to a central bus station in Mexico about 7:00 in the morning, where there was a man who would help me cross the border. I remember very well we took a bus as about 7:30 in the morning, while in the bus the man gave me a passport with a tourist visa for me to use to cross the border. The passport was from Guatemala, if I remember right, I do not remember under whose name was made the passport. The man advise me that if we were stop during the trip in Mexico, to say that I was going as a tourist to Los Angeles, California in the United States. The trip was very long at a time I fell asleep on the bus when the man woke me we were in another central bus station in Mexico that I do not know the name. In reaching this station we got off the bus, to use the restroom, and eat at the same center, we were there for about half an hour. After stopping at that station we did stop 5 more times, which were carrying gasoline and we could eat. We arrived to Tijuana on January 31, 2002 at 7 in the morning. Arriving at Tijuana we got out of the bus and the man who was going to cross me and someone else told us that we were going to need on a bench and wait for 20 minutes. After waiting 20 minutes, we started walking to the border line, the man was ahead of me, and the other person behind me.
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
I moved to America when I was nine years old. Even though I did not know any alphabet, I gradually got used to the new environment. Soon, I got pleased about being able to live in America. I especially liked the atmosphere there. For example, when I went to a store, I noticed that everyone was so friendly to others. I was impressed with their helpful and kindness behavior, caring about someone who they do not know. I found this surprising because in Japan, many people seem to get going with their life, not caring about what is going on around them.
Coming from a low income family, living in a small town in India, I learned early on about struggling and surviving those struggles. I watched my parents working day and night to provide for electricity, pay for our monthly school fees so my sister and I can have a better education, and for the future they wished upon for their children. To further enhance this vision, my father decided for the family and I to immigrate to the US. Everything was different in the sense that I changed schools, learned a new language, had to make new friends, and learned the different culture. I had to adapt to a whole new world, which was a little difficult at 6 years old However, when I look back now, I just couldn’t believe how far my family and I had come which I have my father to thank for. If it wasn’t for my father, I’ll still be going to school in India without ever knowing that this other half of the world even existed, because of the rough circumstances we were facing in India. The future wouldn’t have been as bright as it now and I feel truly blessed to have come to a new world which contained many great opportunities.
Many things have inspired my life, but I feel extremely lucky that I came from a family of immigrants. My Mom, Dad, and their families immigrated from Cuba fleeing Castro's harsh regime and looking for a better way of life. My Mother arrived in Chicago in the late 60's, the Civil Rights Act had recently been passed, and discrimination and restlessness was still about. She not only faced the tough language barrier, but tells me stories of how she dealt with bigotry and bullying in school. On the other hand, my Father immigrated in 1980 via the Mariel Boatlift. It was a treacherous, 14 hour boat trip whom he and his family shared with recently released criminals and the mentally ill. Both my parents encountered hardships on their journey
I spend half of my life here and spend the other half there. The plane is going down, I’m here. Here to explore my new life in a new country called the United States, and a new language to master. It has been a long plane ride from China to America, but I’m finally here, here to stay with my parents. The plane had landed. As I stroll through the gate in search of my parents; I notice something white falling from the sky and at the same time, I felt cold. As I could remember, it was a cold winter night when I arrived, and I wasn’t prepared.