Personal Narrative Essay: I Am Mexican American

Coming from a Mexican immigrant family I have learned to recognize since a very young age that because of the status that my parents are placed in they cannot pursue a better future like the one I want. I have been given the opportunity to challenge myself with obtaining a higher education than just high school itself. My parents have demonstrated to me through their hard work that I have to value this opportunity unless I want to end up with low paying job. My life long dedication comes from seeing my parents make sacrifices in order for my education to continue.

Do you ever wonder how people label you? I would always think myself as a Latina; I never knew there was a difference between Latino and Hispanic. Now I know I’m Hispanic, a Spanish speaker. I consider myself Mexican-America; i believe that being Mexican doesn't come from a place of belonging to some predetermined cultural / ethnic/ racial category. It comes from a huge family and feeling at home. It comes from my mother freshly fried pinto beans and homemade tortilla. From my father stories when he was young .Instead of playing pin the tail on the donkey I destroy piñatas and play musical chairs.

As a first generation, Mexican-American student who is proud of being involved in both Greek life and the Theatre community on campus, I believe that I have a very unique position as a member of the Cornell community. As a first generation, Mexican American student I know the struggles that come with navigating the college process and all the obstacles that come with it. I can empathize with others who might be facing the same struggles and I enjoy being as helpful as possible, so that others can avoid some of the road blocks that I faced during the college search process. As a member of the Greek community, I understand the importance of philanthropy and building a network with other diverse minds. Through this community I have come to value

I am Mexican-American. I am also happy to identify myself as such. My parents came to America when they were teenagers so up until this day, some of those traditions from Mexico are still carried with them today. These traditions were then brought down to me. They also became accustomed to the way people do things here in America, so it was very easy for me growing up, having the best of both worlds.

My parents always wanted to give their children the life they never had. I am Mexican-American, both of my parents immigrated from Mexico to the U.S. before I was born. I have numerous relatives, including my older sister, who do not have the same opportunities I have to achieve success because they are undocumented. For them, college was only a dream that could never be attained. Being the first U.S. citizen out of my entire family affected the way I thought about life. It was expected that I would attend college because I was the only one who had access to all the resources granted to American citizens. Although, I agreed with my family, the pressure to succeed and be a role model to my younger siblings was overwhelming.

Leaving home at the age of 18, loving on my own, figuring how to become an adult, and moving out to college, there were many things being thrown at me in which I was not fully prepared for them. Moving out at 18 is normal for any high school graduate in The United States. Being a Mexican American women it was more than just the net step to life , but a huge accomplishment. Being ascribed into a poor family increased the desire to move forward. My parents did not want me to follow their footsteps into the world of low waged labor, they wanted more. Growing up all I heard from teachers and family members was to go to college. For many it’s the normal thing for a high school graduate to do. For me it was more than socialization it was the path

What I am most proud of, is the fact that I am a hardworking immigrant. In today’s divided society, immigrants are stereotyped as “non-contributing to society” or “largely uneducated”. This ignorant stereotype is a constant reminder of how hard I should work.

“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.

“Wow...there is no way you’re Latino. You’re way too white!” was the ignorant remark made by a one of my peers during my school’s annual Latin-American Fest. Initially, hearing this claim made me look into the mirror. I began to stroke my face and examine my physical features. Was this true? Was I not Latino enough? Did the amount of melanin or lack thereof deem me as Latino?

My Hispanic culture is exceedingly unique contrast to other cultures because we have countless of beliefs, holidays, lifestyles, etc. My world of Hispanic culture raised me to become an independent and determined person because being the first generation of a Hispanic family to attend college has my family beyond thrilled for me to put value to our heritage. Putting value in our heritage is a magnificent emotion because people anticipate Hispanics to fail; but, we prove them wrong when we accomplish our goals. The Hispanic culture’s strength is unbelievably astonishing because we are ambitious of our dreams and we don’t cease until we fulfill our wish. Including the Hispanic culture at University of Washington may open people’s mind that we

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.

I am a girl with two heads. At home, I wear my Chinese head, in school I wear my English head. Being an Asian, or Chinese, as it is commonly referred to, my culture plays a key role in the development of who I am and what I do, my personal identity. An identity is the distinguishing character or personality of an individual. Parents are often one of the key factors of this culturally developed personal identity.

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

When I was walking along a river to gather sticks for a fire and a lady came up to me and I quickly ran I jumped over rocks and made it across the river. I knew she had the black plague. When I knew she wasn’t following me, I stopped. I knew who she was, it was Annabeth’s mom. I had to tell her, so I went back to my treehouse where me and my friends hang out.

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