I Am Mexican By Citizenship

Growing up in an area with a large Mexican community I never really understood how much my culture means to me. I grew up with the stories my dad and grandfather would tell me about my ancestors. My people were the raiders from the hills of Mexico City and that we were a family of warriors. I never held much weight to the warrior part of my grandfather’s stories but I did know that my great grandfather was a fighter. He left Mexico and rode the train up to Denton Texas and sold tamales on the square his entire life. He fought to give my grandfather a better life here. I don’t talk about my dad’s side of the family much, in this day in age being seen as white has more advantages than being seen as Mexican. This thought changed as I came to

It has been 11 years since we have arrived to Los Angeles, California. I can still remember the feeling of when my father had said to us that he we would be moving to a far place to try to find better jobs for my mother and him because with the two jobs my father had and the washing and ironing of other peoples clothes my mom did was not bringing enough money to support my sisters and me and did they wanted to provide a better life for my sisters and me. Mexico was such a poor country that my parents could not see themselves make enough money to support my sisters and me, let alone see us get a better education. So my parents decide to migrate to the United States with one of my mother’s brother. We arrived in Los Angeles, California on

Being Mexican means I am not as privileged as White Americans. This actually makes me very upset sometimes because although I am a United States citizen people still view me as someone who does not belong here. I only get mad and defensive when people treat me less because of my ethnicity. The University of Mexico used survey data, bivariate and multivariate results demonstrate that social connections to whites promote Mexican American activism (Santoro 2012). Overall, I try my best not to let anyone get to me, but it can get difficult at times because I feel

I am a second generation Mexican-American and the last of seven children. My siblings and I were born and raised here in the United States with a mix of Mexican and American values. Our parents migrated to the U.S. at an early age in search of the American dream. Both my mother and father left their families in Mexico to start a better life for themselves and their future children.

Tanya Barrientos explained her struggle with her identity growing up in her writing “Se Habla Español”. Barrientos describes herself as being “Guatemalan by birth but pure gringa by circumstance” (83). These circumstances began when her family relocated to the United States when she was three years old. Once the family moved to the states, her parents only spoke Spanish between themselves. The children learned to how read, write and speak the English language to fit into society at that time in 1963. (83) Barrientos explained how society shifted and “the nation changed its views on ethnic identity” (85) after she graduated college and it came as a backlash to her because she had isolated herself from the stereotype she constructed in her head. She was insulted to be called Mexican and to her speaking the Spanish language translated into being poor. She had felt superior to Latino waitresses and their maid when she told them that she didn’t speak Spanish. After the shift in society Barrientos wondered where she fit it since the Spanish language was the glue that held the new Latino American community together. Barrientos then set out on a difficult awkward journey to learn the language that others would assume she would already know. She wanted to nurture the seed of pride to be called Mexican that her father planted when her father sent her on a summer trip to Mexico City. Once Barrientos had learned more Spanish and could handle the present, past and future tenses she still

Anzaldúa wrote about the conflicting views that Chicanos face involving their own self-identity growing up in societies that tell them they do not belong. Chicanos are people that were born in the United States but have parents that were born in Mexico. They face constant criticism for the way they speak, by both American and Mexican people. Often times Chicanos are told that they’re cultural traitors and that they’re speaking the oppressors’ language and ruining the Spanish language when they are heard speaking English by Latinos (Anzaldúa, 17). They are made to feel as if they need to choose a sole identity to represent and anything other than that is going to be looked down on. Chicanos have felt as if they didn’t belong anywhere, so they created an identity to fit in and belong to “Chicano Spanish sprang out of the Chicanos’ need to identify ourselves as a distinct people” (Anzaldúa, 17). A feeling of

I’m an American grown up with Mexican roots; with all their traditions, religious beliefs, holidays, and foods. I come from a small town of south Texas, called The Rio Grande Valley, where I live with my average size family. I’ve grown up with my family facing hardships, and flaws yet united always. As time has gone by I’ve come to learn that everything around me has shaped me to be the young lady I am today, and I’m grateful for that.

This class has not only reinforced my cultural beliefs, but it has also challenged some preconceived notions of all cultures. I am a first generation Mexican American. My parents were born in Mexico and came to American 25 years ago. In contrast, I was born and raised in California with my older and younger brother. My brothers and I constantly struggled between two distinctive cultural norms— the Mexican culture, and the American culture. My parents are from a small town called San Juan De Los Lagos in Jalisco, Mexico. San Juan is centered on religion¬– it is the home of La Virgin De San Juan, Henceforth, both of my parents were reinforced with strict religious values. My mother attended an all girls catholic primary school. My father was less fortunate and had to attend public primary school, however, since San Juan is grounded on religion, public schools also integrated reliogious values. My parents constantly compare and complain about the lack of values schools in the Unites States teach in their curriculum. Things like: respect your elders, and proper etiquette skills. Due to stricter boundaries here in the U.S, I can see why integrated such things can become problematic. For example, both of my parents experienced physically getting scolded with a ruler for things like: talking back to professors, being disruptive, and even for having dirty fingernails or a messy appearance. Although my parents were raised in strict catholic environments, they have not reinforced

I am a U.S. born citizen. My parents moved to the United States in 1984 without knowing anything about this country. Looking for a fresh start and new opportunities, my parents settled in Houston. With hardly knowing any English, my parents knew this was the place to make dreams become a reality. Luckily, I had older siblings to look up to whenever I needed help. Like Lahiri, I was trapped in between two different cultures while I was growing up. At home, I only spoke Spanish, but in school it was English. My habits and customs were different than others. Life as an immigrant’s offspring can be very difficult. As I grew older, I allowed myself to open my eyes and see the beauty of being an American from Hispanic descent.

I am a first generation Mexican-American that comes from humble beginnings and was instilled to work hard to achieve ones dreams. My parents are humble, earnest, and hardworking people that immigrated to the United States in search of a better tomorrow for themselves and for their loved ones back home. Coming to this country was not easy, for they faced many obstacles in getting here and then assimilating into a culture where they knew no one and did not know the language.

My parents both came to this country at a very young age. My father was 16 when he first moved to the U.S. and my mother years later moved when she was 19. I am a child of immigrants and it was hard growing up. I consider myself a Mexican American or Chicana. I grew up in the suburbs of Los Angeles and later moved to Las Vegas. As I asked my father what he had to deal when he first moved he said “people would discriminate me just because I couldn’t speak well English and because of my brown skin”. “I was only 16 and wanted to live the American dream, but it was more like hell in America”. A lot of people are discriminated every day just because they aren’t Caucasian/white Americans, but they’re still American they live here and have a living here.

I was intrigued by these differences in perspective, and attempted to understand why this was occurring. I first asked my parents, as I was only in the fifth grade, and their answer was simply that we were different, and that that wasn’t a bad thing. Feeling displaced, I began to question everything that I did on a regular basis, and if there was a proper manner in which to act for someone in my situation. The constant choice between my Mexican and American identity was always present.

My interviewee, Delia, is the child of Mexican-immigrants and was born in Mexico. At the age of eight, she was brought to the United States, which makes her one of many 1.5 generation immigrants (Feliciano Lec.1/4/16). For the remainder of this paper, my respondent will be referred to as Delia in order to conceal her identity. In this interview paper, I will discuss Delia’s family’s migration

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

Just a few days before I had to do this essay, my mom shared a story with me. In the middle of a Spanish lesson, one of her students asked her a completely unrelated question: Why do Mexican children always wear frilly dresses and slippers to the supermarket, and why do the men always crowd in the back of pick-up trucks to go to work? Although some of the students thought it was funny, my mother, of course, couldn't pass up this opportunity to respond and teach a more important lesson, interestingly enough, about stereotypes. She reminded me of our trip to Mexico some time ago and related those experiences to her students.