My Grandma's Journey From Colombia To The Garden State

When my mother immigrated to America from Mexico, she had only her family and hope. Hope for a better life; in the US, she was offered the world, and she snatched it within seconds. Unbeknownst to her, their promises were as empty as her pockets. They stole from her, they ruined her, and they tried to build a wall not only between her country and theirs but between her and her family.

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.

Listening to Dr. Navarro talk about all the difficult bumps throughout her life such as the struggle to self-acceptance and pursuing her dreams made me think about my parents’ sacrifices when they immigrated to the US. After I was born, it became clear that they could not provide the constant care and attention a newborn child needed while forging a new life in a foreign country. So I was sent back to China to be taken care of by my grandparents at two years old while my mother worked two jobs to

My grandfather (PopPop) is not an immigrant, but he did move from New York state to Houston. He spent 34 years living in New York before he decided to come to Houston. The years 1938-1972 were his years spent in New York State, and the years 1972-present are his time living Houston. If you are wondering why he moved to Houston, here is your answer. He wanted to move because he had an opportunity to practice hand surgery at Texas Medical School. When he moved here he had a family of three others with him. He had a daughter, a son, and a wife. PopPop claims that Grandma had hardest time with the move because she had no support system in Houston. When I asked PopPop to give me three adjectives to describe the movement, he told me scary,

Almost everyone who lives in America today is a descendant of an immigrant to the U.S. If an immigrant arrived between the years of 1892 and 1924, they went through the long and tedious task of being accepted through the large brick building at the notorious place of Ellis Island. There were many troubles involved with being accepted to and into America, but it was all worth it to them. Some of these problems were long and cramped boat rides, unbelievable wait time to get to the desk of the people who register the immigrants, getting started in the country was somewhat difficult if you arrived without much money.

My mother’s journey began in her hometown, Mexicali. She had heard that there were reliable coyotes who could get you to the US through “La Tierre de Nadie” (No Man’s Land). My mother spent the first few months of her pregnancy working any jobs she could find. Even as her belly grew larger and her feet got more bloated, she spent every hour of her day working. Her whole existence was devoted to escaping poverty. My mother was terrified that her due date would arrive before she was able to reach the States. She walked alongside the wall everyday on her way home, dreaming of the life she would make for her daughter. Finally, my mother had saved enough money to pay the coyote and traveled to Tijuana to find one to hire.

Immigrating to America was incredibly hard for a few reasons. The journey was the first step they had to take after saying goodbye to their families in their home country. Most of the immigrants also did not speak good English

Cousin, I am sure you are aware of my family’s travels to the great country America. We, as a family, decided to travel to America because of the fact that we were persecuted for our religious practices. Our journey first started out by us boarding a train and heading to sea. Once at sea, we then boarded a huge, crowded ship. Due to the fact that we had little money, our family stayed in the steerage. “Steerage was a large, open space at the bottom of the ship.” (“Welcome to Immigration”). Our journey in the crowded ship across the Atlantic Ocean took two long weeks. I had very few friends on the ship for the reason of the ship having a huge variety of people. It seemed as if everyone spoke a different language from one another. We then finally see the infamous Statue of Liberty. Many people on the ship began crying, hugging, and throwing their hats in the air. I asked father why they act such this way and he explained they did it because they were so excited to finally be in America.

I have been in the United States since two thousand eleven, I was twelve years old. A year later the Obama administration passed a law to guard me, an undocumented immigrant child, from being sent back to Guatemala. The Deferred Action for Childhood Arrival program was my ticket to a successful future. My trip here was not an easy ride and I do not know how I survived when I think back to it. That story will be saved for another time, but first let me mention my past and how I came to be.

My mom grew up in Owerri state Imo State, Nigeria. My mom had 10 other siblings. As she got older she got dreamed of going to America to get a better education. Her older sister, my aunt already left for America in 1970s or so. When my mom turned 18 she obtained an immigration visa so she could attend University. My mom said bye to her large family, especially her mom and dad and boarded a plane and left for America in 1984, she was 19.

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

In the early 1970’s, before my grandparents met, they both crossed the Mexico border as teens. Given that, some of their family were in America, it made it much

wanted to come to America, this great country to make a better life for themselves and their

My experience of moving to the USA included a couple of steps such as preparing, arriving, and adopting. Moving to America was one of the most thrilling and exciting experiences I have ever had in my life. It all started after I graduated from high school. I had always dreamed of going to abroad to study in a better school to be successful in life. My dad was leaving me hints here and there that he was going to send me America for school, but I was sure that it wasn’t going to happen because getting a student visa was tough back then. However, that summer when I saw that letter in my mail from the immigration department of USA for an interview, I was speechless.

explain my mom's journey over to the Americas, and the hardships that came with in.