My Life As An Immigrant

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

It was such a joy to be able to watch ‘An Immigrant Journey’. Everyone that was involved in the play in any way, did a fantastic job on creating the story and making the story much more believable for audience members. I thought the cast did a fantastic job of condensing down over 125 hours of research material, into a 50-minute show, which had to be incredibly challenging.

It was summer of 2010. My parents were still married and we went up to Wichita Falls, Wichita to go see my brother Chris who was in the Military on base working. We stayed there for a week. I still remember the car ride up there. We rented a van, we had tvs in the rented van, my sister Rylee, my other brother Garrett (he was in the military too), my mom Traci, and my dad Doug, and my brothers military bag it was like a person. I still remember I had to sit in the back with that bad it was so big. Garrett put the seatbelt around the bag like it was a person. The car trip was so long but it was all worth it in the end. It was in the middle of the week and we were out on the beach. My brother Chris and his pregnant wife Ashley had a boat the water

“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 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.

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

It is not uncommon to hear one recount their latest family reunion or trip with their cousins, but being a first generation immigrant, I sacrificed the luxury of taking my relatives for granted for the security of building a life in America. My parents, my brother, and I are the only ones in my family who live in the United States, thus a trip to India to visit my extended family after 4 years was an exciting yet overwhelming experience. Throughout the trip, I felt like a stranger in the country where I was born as so many things were unfamiliar, but there were a few places that reminded me of my childhood.

Growing up as an immigrant I view the world in a much more different light than most people do. Whenever an opportunity presents itself to me I am willing to put in the effort if I know it will better my life. This trait of resourcefulness originates from my family who, over the years have created a life for themselves out of virtually nothing. I moved to America at the young age of two years old with my father. Though he didn’t have much to begin with, my father decided to move to this country in hopes to lead a better life and follow on the path of the American dream. I vividly recall being in the backseat of our car while my father trained me on the importance of remaining perceptive and hardworking in school and abroad, I remember he would

On a random Thursday morning in the middle of October, I became an orphan. I have always been independent and mature from a young age, but all that changed on a crisp day in November when I learned what it means to grow up. Something typically marked by a Bat Mitzvah or the acquisition of a driver’s license was, for me, marked by the arrest of my single mother.

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.

I am who I am today because of my parents, first my dad worked so hard in order to be able to pay to get our papers and be able to legally come into the country. The immigration process took more than 10 years. We were only able to see my dad once a year because he was here working and saving up to bring the family together. In July of 1998 just 3 months before I was born my sister Elena passed away before being able to come into the country, she waited for so long to reunite with my dad and it didn't happen she left before her dream came into reality. When my family was finally able to reunite we made the most of it we enjoyed every second with each other. When I entered school I was known for the Mexican girl who didn't know English however

There was a loud bang on the door. I sat up right away along with the other 13 people in my room. A soldier dress in head to toe with his uniform along with a winter jacket. He threw five pieces of bread on the floor and told us to go to work before leaving. The bread only got split upon nine of us; I was one of those nine. I had noticed a young boy did not get a piece so I gave him mine. The boy looked at me with a blank stare and took the bread from my frangile bonny fingers. I stood up, buttoned my shirt and adjusted my shorts. Under that slats of wood I slept on, I hid a scarve that I stole from a dead woman. I pulled it out and tucked it in my shirt so no one would notice. As I stepped out the door frame I felt a chilling breeze up my

When I arrived to the United States I faced a challenging situation in my life, I didn’t know English. This challenging as I didn’t know how to communicate with any of my teachers or classmates, and I wasn’t able to do any of my work. Not being able to participate in class upsetted me because in Mexico I was use to doing all my classwork and homework. Therefore, I decided that I was going to do everything in my power to learn English quickly. So, when the my ESL teacher announced to my parents that they were going to have to take to school during the summer, I didn’t mind at all. When I was in summer school I learned a lot of English due to my determination and my hard work. Looking back I wouldn’t do things differently because I know that

There is an amazing thing happened this morning when I woke up. Emoji I kinda of remember that you called me in my dream last night. You said that let us meet in GuangZhou with Harvey together. Lol.... The rest of the dream were unclear but only you are deep in my mind. I guess because I think of you and miss you during the daytime. :)

As a first generation American, I am aware of the various connotations that come with this label. To the outside world, people see me as an American-born daughter of a Vietnamese mother and a Chinese father. I am someone whose parents immigrated to the United States of America to search for a better life, to pursue their dreams, and to provide an advantageous environment for their children. They see a young teenage girl, only in high school, yet I am different from them. “Where are you from?” they ask, seemingly surprised when I answer that I was born in California, in Los Gatos specifically. Sometimes, they ask again, wanting an answer of a foreign country. They expect me to desire an amazing profession such as being a doctor, engineer, or lawyer, a high paying position so I can fulfill my parent’s American Dream.