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
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I’m able to resonate with a plethora of things, yet the thing I consider my identity is I’m an adopted, Haitian immigrant. I was born in Haiti in 1998, in a small village in Thomazeau, I moved to Croix-des- Bouquets right after my birth and I lived there until I was 9 years old. My family's financial situation was adequate. My mom was always able to find a way to make ends meet. This cause our neighbor to be envious of us.
(Summer of 1879) As an African American wife who recently joined the western migration, along with my husband, I am optimistic about the opportunity we have to become landowners. Thanks to the new addition of the 13th amendment, my husband and I are considered lawful freedmen. We now have the right to live a lifestyle opposite of the suffering we endured back in the South.
As the crow flew across the sky, I felt a thick breeze of wind hit me in the face, I heard several voices talking a language I'd never heard before. I was born in southern Europe, and everyone around me was just another figure. I saw men, women, and tiny children, looking like they had been starving for quite some time. I, however did not look much different, but I guess it is the thought of more people starving than just myself. I am 14 years old, I was born in 1877, my parents have been separated from me, and my little brother just died.
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 parents brought me to America almost 5 years ago to have a better life, and to get a better education.
I am not white, but I am not Mexican either. I am, however, a first generation Mexican American with parents from San Luis Potosi, Mexico. Perhaps I do not know what it is like to cross the border that refrains me from being Mexican, or the color of my skin that refrains me from being white, but my own personal experiences make me the Mexican American that I am today. Growing up I celebrated the Fourth of July with fireworks, and the Day of the Virgin of Guadalupe with matlachines.
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.
Ten years ago, I immigrated to the United States and ever since I have been an undocumented immigrant. Due to my legal status in the United States, I felt like I was restricted from certain situations and possessions and would never be able to succeed. I was not living the normal life of a seven-year-old. Instead, I had to learn to cope and adapt to a whole new culture. Even though the drastic change at such a young age was a challenge, it has shaped who I am today.
I first moved to Texas and in particular to South Texas on the summer of 2001. Immediately after I got here I enrolled for classes for the Fall Semester at the University of Texas Pan American as an international student. On the morning of September 11, 2001 while I was getting ready for class I watched with horror on television, as many Americans did that day, the terrorist attack that unfolded in New York city, as well as the Pentagon and Pennsylvania. At first, the sheer destruction and the astounding amount of casualties was what I remember vividly, but that event will have a direct effect on me without even knowing it at the moment. You see, when I first came here, I came with a student visa, just like the terrorists that boarded the airplanes that were involved in the terrorist act.
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 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.
My most rewarding accomplishment consists of my ability to overcome the fear and weakness that was conceived upon my arrival to the United States from Mexico, in addition to a newly evolved character which allowed me to achieve academic, professional, and personal success. Nearly seven years ago, my mother and I immigrated from a harsh economic climate in Mexico that was plagued with unemployment. Additionally, our family faced bankruptcy. While holding onto our faith, we left our hometown with only what we could carry and bought two one-way bus tickets. With nothing more than fear, two bags, and $50 in each of our pockets, we set out for what would be the most challenging journey of our lives.
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.
An immigrant family wants the best for everyone lives, however moving to a new country brings struggles. There struggles include finding a home, a good paying job, avoiding to be deported, being separated ,and continuing their education. Immigrants expect a better life because their old home and country did have much benefits as the new country gives them. The advantage of an immigrant family is family values which tends them to be closer. Disadvantages of an immigrant family are the struggles that were first mentioned and including that they face other people calling them a threat.
Hi Mrs. Choy, In respond to your questions, I must say I may have the generic immigrant story for you to read. Although I hate to admit such story, that 's how I was raised and am quite thankful, for I can look at the world at a wider spectrum. Also, I cannot see myself reply plainly to the questions and wrote you a somewhat detailed description of myself. Leaving Viet Nam near the end of 2009, I missed some school and fell behind the competitive Viet Nam education since the system in the U.S. is two degrees lower. Feeling compressed inside, I had no friends or connections to the home country at the time, and eventually I fell into depression.