An Immigrant: A Short Story

When I was deliberating topics for my case study ethnography report I was inspired to examine some one very close to me who is "undocumented", someone whose experience I have seen first hand, some one who has affected my life and understanding of immigrants with his situation; my partner, Mario. This class has exposed us to many writings on the subjects of migration, immigration and emigration. I began to compare the concepts and information in the readings to Mario’s personal situation. I was curious if his answer would be "In search of a better life" when asked, "Why did you come here?"

Welcome. A single word on the carpet by the door greets me whenever I come home. There had been times where that one word made my heart beat and cry with joy. But not now, for many things changed through the years. Now when I look at this carpet, I instead question back: ‘Do you really mean that?’

As a part of an immigrant family, there is no doubt that, as the oldest, I had to help my parents with English translation. Even though I have been in this role for years, it was not until recently that I realized the significance of my responsibilities.

Hello reader, I’m about to tell you a story of some of my life. I am not normally one to volunteer details about myself, which I’ll remain somewhat reserved or completely leave some events out of this autobiography. Nonetheless, I believe I can still make my story interesting for the reader. I was born 1979, in Tampa, Florida; which, is also the same day my biological father decided to leave my mother and I. My mother isn’t a native Floridian, but had moved there with her family when she was still an infant, and had spent most of her life growing up in Florida. Needless to say, my father leaving was not an exciting time for my mother and I. Although she was employed Jimmy Cater was president and had taken the nation into

What I am most proud of, is the fact that I am a hardworking immigrant. In today’s divided society, immigrants are stereotyped as “non-contributing to society” or “largely uneducated”. This ignorant stereotype is a constant reminder of how hard I should work.

“Mom, will I ever be treated as a regular person? When will I be like the others without people look at me in a strange way and make fun of me, when mom? When?” Those were the questions I did to my mom almost every day after getting home from school. Fourteen years ago that my parents brought me to this country offering a better life with better opportunities than where I was born. I was seven years old when came to the United States, but I still remember the happiness I felt when I first step in this country. Throughout the years, I have realize that not everything is easy and simple as I imagined. My parents worked in the fields because of the lack of a social security and not knowing how to speak English. Many Americans do not know how hard it is the life of an immigrant, they should have a consideration for us and not just blame us for the deviance of the United States.

I was born on january/31/1919 in Vietnam and immigrated to France. In 1942 I was studying at the university in Nice, where I met a fellow student, Jadwiga Alfabet, a Jewish refugee from Poland. In the summer of 1942 the French police began arresting Jews with foreign nationality. In September 1943 the Germans occupied Nice and all the Italian controlled zones and we were in danger of deportation. I decided to hide not only my wife, but also her relatives. In November 1943 I took a train with a few of my wife's relatives to get them in touch with a smuggler who could take them to Switzerland, I made this trip several

Humanity is ever so much more complicated than one could have ever imagined. Humans can thrive on change, but ultimately look for something to declare as home. In search of this home people travel long distances and risk everything they have. When an American contemplates the word immigrant, one imagines the countless people from Mexico crossing into our country or the refugees that hope to make this country their home. What eludes most of us, however, is the reality that most people were, at one point, immigrants to this country and that our forefathers came here exactly the same as refugees come today. What is brought to mind when I hear the word immigrant is hope and perseverance. I remember the countless people who have traveled here

With the settlement of first immagrants to America, this has been the phrase in which they preach. I seemed to those from an outside perspective of America, that this was the place to be. This was no exception for my grandfather. His valuable lessons of dedication, persistence and passion have shaped me into the person that I have become.

     It started like any other day up on the hills of Rhein, but that day had the scent of freedom floating in the air. The journey ahead of me had been teasing me for weeks, I was just so anxious to get away and start all over again. I had made certain arrangements before I left, our family dog was not allowed on the ship that we were going to be arriving in America, so I had my parents take care of the dog for us. It was a hard thing to do seeing that the dog had become more than just a pet to the children and I, for we almost would recognize him as a family member. Most of our possessions we were able to keep with us, but we had to keep the load light since it was going to be a tight stay in the steerage. I

“Tell me the moment she feels any pain!” Dr. Cueto shouted. I relayed the message in Thai to

A few years ago, I was with my family, walking the streets in New York, on our way to buy dinner. My mom had given me and each of my brothers ten dollars to spend on money. As we were walking, I noticed a man. He was sleeping on the side of a wall, a torn blanket covered his chest. His hair looked ungroomed

Looking back to the past, before I was born, I never really knew where my ancestors came from or why they even came here in the first place. It was never made a big deal in my family to talk about our history and the reasons why they came to American. So, I decided to do a little research and find out a little bit about myself, my culture, and my communication styles. I asked for a little bit of help from my grandmothers from each side of my family. I got an abundance of information that opened my eyes to a new past that I didn’t even know about.

My dad teaching me how to drive is a dream. Seeing him come home every night from work is a dream. His attendance at my graduation later this year is a dream.

It all started one day when my mom started to feel sharp pain. She told my dad to drive her to the ER because she was going into labor. My dad immediately woke up me and my big brother we all got in the car and left to the hospital