I was born in Northwest China, in the province of Jiang Xi. Eighteen years ago, my parents had decided to adopt from China after finding out they were unable to have children of their own. After researching about adoption agencies, they found an agency in Texas. Gladney Center for Adoption, forwarded my parents information on two twin girls that needed a family. It was love at first sight and they planned their trip.
My first language is English but I also understand haitian Creole. I would say I am intermediate in Haitian Creole. I also think some words in Spanish are familiar to me because in Creole there are some Spanish words ( as well as some French). I want to be able to hold a basic conversation in Spanish or at least understand it. Eventually, i would love to be fluent or at least intermediate in the language to be able to communicate well with my future Spanish-speaking ELL students when I become a teacher.
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.
Mistakes are one of the most common occurrences of human nature, and I felt I was the living embodiment of an unwanted one. I was born a traveler. Four months into my life, I had embarked on a journey that consisted of over 6,300 miles to an unfamiliar home after being abandoned by my birth parents at infancy. Going against convention, I was not raised in a culture of blood; the links which connect me to others are not based in biology, but in relationship. Despite the fact that living as an interracial adoptee is all I have ever known, I have spent an overwhelming amount of time continuously speculating about my biological family in Seoul, what my life would have been had I been raised there, where I would be now had I been adopted by a different family.
There were rice plants on my left and farm animals on my right. I grew up in New York City, so you can imagine the millions of questions that were running through my head. I’d never been to the countryside of the Dominican Republic before, but when I finally did, I couldn’t be more ecstatic, despite the scorching Caribbean sun burning down on my brown skin. I hadn’t visited the Dominican Republic since I was four years old. All I had was vague memories of my grandmother’s boisterous laugh and the chickens in the backyard I loved chasing after.
With an abrupt rattle and jerk, I was interrupted from my two-and-a-half hour uncomfortable van ride nap. Immediately, my nostrils were flooded with tropical coconuts, bananas, and citruses of nearby vendors and shacks. Drowned out by the rambunctious engines of motorcycle taxis were the passionate greetings of townspeople and the entire community. When I stepped out of the van, the horizon was noticeably stuffed with constant greenery and the humidity was so thick that I could almost chew it. The neighborhood seemed shabby and run-down, yet everyone smiled and treated one another like a big family.
There was not much to do as I grew up in Haiti. I would sit outside for hours until the sun would set, the darkness consuming the little light that once remained. I didn’t know anything besides my house; my mom believed that our safety simply lay inside the house and anything outside was dangerous. Growing up, I didn’t have my father around because he came to the United States in order to provide for his family back home. At the age of seven both my immigration papers and my sister's were finalized, and we were able to finally be with our father.
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.
I have for some experience with the Foster Care System. I use to provide Foster Care in my own for numerous years for children of all ages. In my opinion, the Foster Care System needs a lot of work, however, the quality of care depending on who the case of a social worker and the Foster parents is for the child. Your provider 's who truly care about the child and really want to make a difference. Then there are those providers who simply do it as a business and for the money.
It has been six years since I left Haiti at the age of four. For me it’s been a lifetime at this point. So long that I don’t remember any of the basic rituals of my family. Jet lag knocked me out so badly the night before, I don’t remember what I did after getting off the plane. Bleary eyed and confused
The city is known for its culture, creativity, great food, and our different music. New Orleans has always been home for me until, the unthinkable happened. No, our city isn’t always filled with tons of fun. We have suffered a dramatic change over a decade ago. Although it was so long ago, our city still isn’t the same as it was before.
1: “Where are you from?” Just about everyone has been asked this prosaic question, for it is a common introductory question. However, my answer to this question is by far the least common. While some people reply with, “Oh I am from Lexington, Kentucky,” or reply that they are from another city in Kentucky, I reply with, “I am from Stavropol, Russia.” A lot of people are taken aback in awe when I tell them that I was adopted from Russia.
My adoption has been the greatest blessing and it has help widen my world perspective. Facing first hand segregation because of my race has broadened my horizons and desire to learn about differing opinions. For many years I struggled with my identity. Was I a Chinese girl living the American lifestyle or an American child with Chinese heritage? Upon reflection, I have decided that my identity is
Overcoming my Obstacles Obstacle--a word that most people in the world do not want to mention, but all of us have to face them every day in our lives. Some people have to face physical hardships, but others have to face spiritual difficulties. Overcoming these obstacles is very important for people to have a good life. Everyone has a personal way to overcome their obstructions, and each way has a particular lesson to teach us. I also have had to face many difficulties in my life, and my three big obstacles have been homesickness, car sickness, and studying English.
I had amazing parents! Both wise and loved me dearly. During my younger years, I knew I was loved but I also knew that I was different from my adoptive parents – different talents, different looks. As much as this sometimes annoys me, my adoptive parents are my parents. They've raised me, loved me, held my hand, wiped my tears and been there to talk to regardless of the situation.
