Personal Narrative: From Mexico To Arizona

Waving goodbye from the backseat of the car, as we pull out of my parent’s driveway. Looking out the window at the oddly, white shaped clouds. Thinking, I had never been away from my parents and my younger sister for so long, even though it was only for two weeks. I was excited and scared all at once, but I wasn’t too thrilled about the whole 29-hour drive there. Hoping that the trip would go well and nothing bad will happen to us.

We had been waiting for this trip for years. Every 5 years we go on a trip to someplace fun. When five years passed after our trip to disneyland we were all waiting to go on some other adventure. I had done this twice, but 2 things about our trip this year were special.

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.

I have never experienced racism. However, I am not oblivious to those who have experienced racial confrontations. I have heard nasty comments such as “spic” and “wetback” and any other derogatory term that is out there used against my people. I have not always accepted or been proud of my family’s background. expand here.

December 2008 marks the initial start to the devastating and gruesome cartel drug war in Mexico that has led to the deaths of over 80,000 people. In the midst of this war, violence has surged dramatically in Ciudad Juarez, Mexico, an area seen by many as a point of contention in the lucrative drug smuggling business that stems from Mexico and flows into the United States. As a result of the recent outbreak of violence, it has been difficult to accept the fact that my mother and sister cross the border every weekend from El Paso to Ciudad Juarez to go visit family knowing they are at risk of being taken hostage or even worse, getting killed by the cartel. My father has also experienced these life-threatening occurrences

December twenty-nine, two thousand and seven is a date that is forever in my mind. The

As the child of Mexican immigrants, I am always encouraged to work to the best of my ability because of the sacrifices and struggles my family went through to get where we are today. Too young to remember, I am constantly reminded of the difficulties my family experienced as they attempted to rebuild their lives in a new country with nothing but their clothes on their backs and the few cash they had in their pockets. The place we called home was a shabby, old apartment in a neighborhood where the crime rate seemed as if it doubled in a matter of seconds. At a point in our lives my family begged for pennies to afford medicine from gas stations, and even the dollar store when we fell ill. It was never that we were out of money, but we were just financially unstable. We had a roof over our heads, food on our table, clothes, and even a family car, but my father’s income was not always enough to support the life of a growing family and on top of that, enough to invest in my family’s future.

My eyes reveal my story. Although I was born in the United States, my Mexican heritage shines through my hazel eyes. I am proud of both my American and Mexican identity. My Grandparents on both sides immigrated from Mexico to Southern, California before my parents were born. In our home, we celebrate our Mexican culture through cooking traditional meals and celebrating traditional holidays, such as Día de los muertos. My Family creates an altar decorated with candles, flowers, colorful trimmings and offerings for our loved ones who have passed. I feel fortunate my Mexican heritage is intertwined with my American identity.

As a migrant and it’s family set out on a long dangerous journey, they must be thinking will we make it across? Will we last through this hard journey or will we not even make it halfway? This journey to cross the U.S. Mexico border is unsafe for these migrants who are in search of a fresh start or a better life. Not only is it hard enough to get through a hot blazing desert but to not have water or the correct resources to get them through is dangerous. They struggle with the lack resources but also the dangerous guidance from coyotes. These migrants think they are ready and prepared but in reality some of them might not even make it to the border. These people are just so concentrated on the dream across the border but some have a rude awaking

Communication apprehension has been a struggle for me being an immigrant from Mexico. Conversing in my native language I am very vocal, participative and communicative with extensive vocabulary. Communication in a second language presented a language barrier and apprehension of making grammar mistakes and embarrassment of my accent.

It was November 20, 2016 the day that I had left for Cancun Mexico. Me, my brother, my mom, and my Grandma and Grandpa all 5 of us in my Yukon Denali on our way the the Hilton Double Tree. It took about an hour and half to get to Chicago Illinois, but on the way there we had to make a few pit stops in Valpo to get my brother some flip-flops that we ended up losing in Mexico. On our way there we had kept in contact with the other 9 people we were going with, My cousin Sean had checked in on us a few times, and asked us how far we were from the place we were heading which was called Portillo's. It's a restaurant that is amazing all of us were going to meet there for dinner before we would all head to the hotel. When we had gotten there my 3

Who am I? Who am I is what I tend to ask myself often, more than I probably should. That question floats around in my head from day to day waiting to be answered. Well to answer my question, I’m my roots. My Mexican roots have shaped me into the person I am today any many ways. Such as, the food I love to eat, the languages I speak, the music I enjoy listening to, the places I enjoy going to, all of my traditions, how I dress, and my name. All of those factors tie into who I am, Alejandra. I have Mexican blood running through my veins, which I’m very proud of. I have my parents to thank for who I am.

Populations are contained within borders, whether they are physical fortifications or a concept of invisible territorial borders, in order to maintain a nation united and out of problems—is what most of the inhabitants idealize. The well-known border between Mexico and the United States has not only expanded but has also raised many doubts. Urban myths have misled many individuals to think positive about the extensive fence that separates two countries. One popular and recent myth that many people from United States feed off of is that Mexico sends problems, and by building a bigger walls will stop the flow of problems. I myself, am an immigrant from Guadalajara, Jalisco, a rich in culture state; nonetheless, I have lived three-fourths of my life in Modesto, California. I personally have been through the Mexican border several times.

We started off with a bang. We started with me thinking of what to do how to do it and what were my ideas. Then, a little later we actually started it and not gonna lie, it was scary. I didn’t know that much about my family, yeah i've heard stories but they're stories. Later on we went home i didn’t tell my family anything just unsuspiciously getting all the information and I learned a lot yes. I learned about my names and why they're my names, I learned about my dad getting lost a lot, I learned about my mom moving here to america when she was 14 and how her life was before she moved and why she moved. I learned about my uncle going to jail for crossing the border illegally which is kinda funny. All those I learned but i couldn’t find anything

Numerous people have tried to cross a border, but Farah Ahmedi was a girl who was desperate to escape her war-torn country of Afghanistan by crossing the border into Pakistan, described in the short story “The Other Side of The Sky,” and an interview done by Dorris Booth. Annie Johnson was a fierce woman who wanted to support her family by starting an intricate business that cooked meals for factory workers, as described in a short story, “New Directions.” Theodore Boone, from the book Theodore Boone: The Activist, was a youthful thirteen-year old boy who wanted to undertake a monumental mission: preventing a bypass from being built through homes and farms, including his friend's, which was in the danger zone. However, all three wanted to help, whether it was themselves or others.