Personal Narrative: When I Move To America

When I moved to America, I was never accepted. People looked at me like I was dirt. They loathed my honey colored skin. This is my story; you will learn the chainman’s side of the exclusion act. White people believed we stole their jobs. They looked down upon our culture and physical appearance . They accused us of being lying, deceitful vermin. I wanted to live the life I was promised, but life in America was so much worse than any nightmare. When I arrived in America, I was glowing with excitement. I believed my life was just beginning. My point of arrival was on the coast of California, the gold rush was in full bloom. Sadly the California gold rush was over quickly and I was left hopeless and chronically jobless. I went to every corner shop, offering my service. I became desperate and willing to work diligently for almost any wage at all. I wasn’t the only Chinaman who became so indigent that they would do anything for a bite of food. My people were raised to work hard, weather being supervised or not, and this caused great conflict between the lazy white men and the Chinese. They began to resent us relentlessly and blame us for their newly found poverty. Soon people would hire only us, because we worked hard and efficiently for little amounts of money. They scorned and despised us for our persistent efforts. I went to work building

We caught the first train back to town and I was stunned by how bright and crowded it is. I’d never had a day off from work in the three months at the railroad and civilization seems so far-fetched. We began walking to the casino and Lee tried to explain poker to me and I stared at him blankly. The concept did not register until I had played. Once we played a few games with a white man, he said we should bet on something else. He said he needed someone to work in his home and care for his children with his wife. Whoever won would get the job and would be paid