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My Cultural Identity

Decent Essays

After countless tries by my ancestors to establish a life in the United States it seemed destiny had a place for me. Come to think of it, may it wasn’t destiny calling my family to cross the border, rather our native land was calling us home. Still how colonized have I become to accept my new identity. In the novel, Cruz comments that Esperanza changed her son’s name from Robert to Bobby. (Loc. 215) “Call him Bobby. In America, he’s Bobby, Esperanza said” (Cruz). My parents didn’t assimilate that quickly. My full name is Socorro Martinez, and I’m the youngest of eight children. My father came to this country during the Bracer Act Program, after it was terminated in 1964 he worked in construction. My mother followed six years later with three children, after losing her daughter to an illness. I was named after my mother but was given the nick name Suki. Growing up no one called by my first name. I built an identity based on my nick name, and slowly my cultural identity was diminishing.
I found it coincidental that like my family I too embarked in a journey and sacrificed for my children. My husband, children and I moved Washington State two years ago. Just like Santo left the Dominican Republic and Esperanza left Puerto Rico towards the United States to give their family a better life. (Loc. 332) Although I was surrounded by a vast amount of greenery, I missed the sound and faces of my culture. I couldn’t blend in with the locals. Growing up in a barrio, I

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