How My Family Changed The United States

The journey began, the first state we rode through was Alabama, I couldn’t see much since it was night time. All I could see was the clear night sky. No stars were shining that night. The only lights I could see were street lights, building lights, and other cars. Looking around inside the car, everyone was asleep except for my uncle since he was the one driving. I must have been asleep the whole 4 hours and 46-minute car ride through Mississippi because I don’t remember anything, same with Louisiana. Finally, when we got to Texas all I wanted to do was get out of the car, so luckily, we stopped by to eat at Cici’s. My aunt said, “To enjoy this last meal since it was the last fast food, that we would be having for a while.” After we ate, it took us about 5-hours to get to Matamoros, Mexico. That was where we had to drive through the border to get into Mexico. Once we got into Mexico, there were lines of cars everywhere from people trying to enter and leave at the same time. The lines were slowly moving, like a turtle, inch by inch. There

As I grew up and shared the amazing fact that I was born in a different country, I was constantly asked if I was a U.S citizen. I would always answer yes and explain that my mother had my documents hidden in a bureau, but I didn't know why I was asked so frequently. I didn't pay any attention at first, but the urge to ask my parents grew stronger and stronger until one day at the age of twelve, I decided to ask my parents. That day, I received the news that would change my life forever. With tears in their eyes, I remember my parents telling me the dangerous events that they had to surpass in order to enter this country. I remember how they told me about the little girl that lost her life from dehydration as they crossed the desert and how

I grew up in a small town in the state of Michoacan, Mexico until a few weeks after my seventh birthday. In 2001, after six years since my father petitioned to have us come to the United States with him and finally he had received a letter from U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services that his request had been approved. Being of that age, I was my mother’s companion everywhere, however, all I could grasp from those conversations was that we were going to the United States. I don 't think any of us knew what this meant or to what extent this would change our lives, not even my parents whom I thought knew it all.

As the plane slowly landed on the airport terminal in Washington D.C., my parents held their excitement. After the long fight of waiting on the list and doing all the immigration paperwork, they awed that they finally arrived here in the United States, the land of opportunity and freedom. My parents immigrated to the United States from Vietnam. They hoped to seek a better future for themselves and for future generations. When I was a young child, my parents put in many grueling hours of work to support our family. My mother worked as a waitress and a cashier at a Chinese restaurant while my father worked at a steel factory where he assembled parts for furniture. They both worked for minimum wages which made it more difficult to have extra money to enjoy and relax. As our family lived here in the United States, my parents received some harsh judgements and critiques from American citizens. My mother got some feedback for her limited English skills, and she got taunted for that. My father openly practiced his cultural beliefs which differed from American traditional values and customs. He prayed and meditated to his God with his special incense. This behavior received some backlash from others in his workplace. As we continued to live here in the United States, immigrants widespread such like my parents have received negative judgements and misconceptions from Americans. The topic of immigration has became more controversial due to border patrol issues and illegal immigration

Your family came to America and was welcomed. And you are not any different then todays immigrants with the exception your ancestors got her sooner. But you are no more American than anyone else, unless you are a true Native American...You know the group of dark skinned people that was here when your Ancestors came over on their ships. Our Ancestors enjoyed the Native Americans hospitality and then promptly ran them out west and the ones who didn't go were slaughtered. Our Ancestors were terrorists, killing far more NATIVE AMERICANS then any other terrorist group. And if we are talking about keeping immigrants out because a few of them might be Terrorists then us white people should be the first ones sent back to where we came from. YOU ARE

The Brady Bunch were the ideal families in the 1960's and 1970's, and in the 80's, it was Family Ties. When the 1990's approached us, television shows took on a whole new outlook on American Families. There were shows such as Full House, which was about a single father raising three daughters with the help of his brother-in-law and his best friend. Roseanne was also another show that showed the "dysfunctional" side of families. American Families keep changing, and they will continue to change in our future.

I have had two different names growing up. My parents came to America at the turn of the new millennium with big dreams and hopes. Coming from a devout Jainist society, their perspectives towards life were very different; they believed in hard work and most of all nonviolence. I, on the other hand grew up in a sweet, small southern town on the tip of Florida. Life was all about going to the sandy beaches, chilling with pals, and just having a “good ole time”.

I am the youngest of four children and the son of two immigrant parents. My parents had migrated to this country at a young age hoping to give a better economic future to their two kids at the time. They had to make the sacrifice of leaving all their family and friends behind to give us an opportunity they never had, going to school and graduating. They worked hard to give us a the things we needed and things we wanted.

However, something that I soon found out was that we had something else in common, our legal status. The majority of the people in my neighborhood were undocumented, including my family. I was not aware of this until one day, particularly, on my mom's birthday, my parents informed us we were going to stay with some friends for awhile. At the time, I was very confused because it was such a sudden decision. I later found out that their decision occurred because that day an ICE officer had visited the apartment’s managing office and asked my mother if she knew a woman in a photograph. The woman was my aunt who lived with us. My parents were so afraid that they immediately took us to another house. However,the worse was yet to come. When my aunt was on her way back from Los Angeles on a greyhound bus, her bus was stopped in El Paso and she was deported back to Bolivia even though she had no family there and she was from Pakistan. That was a big burden on my family and it was the the point in my life where I became afraid of living and I fully understood what it meant to be undocumented. From then on, I lived in constant fear of being separated from my parents and often times I would cry at night and pray that I we would always be

My journey started in Hermosillo, Sonora where my mother, sister-in-law, and I was preparing to cross the border. We were staying in a house full of people waiting to cross. The next day like about 4 in the afternoon a truck was waiting for us to attempt for the first time to cross the border. They took fifteen of us to a deserted place where a coyote was waiting for us. Coyote is a nickname of a person who smuggle people through the border. We all had bag packs full of water, clothes, and a couple of dollars. We then started walking into the desert.

The families in America are steadily changing. While they remain our most valued and consistent source of strength and comfort, some families are becoming increasingly unstructured. In the past, the typical family consists of a working father, a stay at home mother and, of course, well-rounded children. Today, less than 20 percent of American families fit nicely into this cookie cutter image. American households have never been more diverse. Natalie Angier takes stock of the changing definition of family in an article for the New York Times.

I’m an immigrant. I was born in Mexico and it was only until my parents decided to come to the United States that I am where I am. My mother tried to cross the border to come to the United States for the first time when I was still in her womb all by herself as my father was already in the Unites States working in order to provide for her in the way that he wasn’t able to do so by staying in Mexico. My mother was caught by immigration and was sent back. My mother was very disappointed because she knew that if she didn’t get me to the United States some way or another I wouldn’t get very far in life by staying in Mexico. My father returned back to Mexico when I was born and it wasn’t until I was 4 years old that they decided to try to cross the border once again. Although I was only 4 years old I remember the whole experience as if it was yesterday. The amount of fear of getting caught by immigration and having done everything for nothing was always in the back of my mind while going through the whole experience. Up to this day nothing has ever been as terrifying and nerve-wrecking as having to go through that whole experience especially for a 4 year old child but I will forever be grateful for the bravery and strength that my parents had to gather in

Many families in America struggle to put food on the table and support their family, but teenagers can help this by working. When teenagers work not only will they be able to help feed and afford necessities for themselves and their families,they will also be gaining experience from work and be more likely to be hired later.

I remember the day I left Mexico, very clearly. I will never forget it. March 8, 1997, exactly 2 months before I turned 6 years old. As we were packing the last of our bags into the car my grandma called to me, “Alito!” she yelled and I immediately turned around with a big smile on my face, like one of those huge smiles where all your teeth are showing. I remember my grandmother really well. She was a heavyset lady with long black hair and a very rough voice. Grandma's voice was like a pissed off boss, assertive and loud but whenever she spoke you would listen attentively. My grandmother also had a beauty mark on her face by her left eye. To me, my grandma was the most beautiful soul in the world. When I last saw her, I knew I would never forget her face…always calm but always ready for anything. If I would have known that this was the last time I would see her in person, I would have told her how much I really loved her. I would have mentioned how uneasy I felt that day like I was hearing her last words as we stood there face to face for the last time. If I knew back then that this was the last time I would be in this country. I would have never let her go.

When we think of an all-American family, what do we think of? To me, an all-American family consists of a mother, a father, and two children, one boy and one girl. Unfortunately, today this is not the norm. We have become a society that is full of broken families. Whether good or bad, this has become a commonality for families in the United States.