Personal Narrative: Growing Up In A Low Income Family

Growing as an undocumented child made me value the true meaning of the American Dream. When I was seven years old my mother and I left our country because of the violence Mexico was facing. Crossing the border in the hot days and freezing nights of July in Arizona. while walking the only thing that I could think the better life America could offer us; while walking my mother got injure in her knee, I had told her “no Mom we have gotten this far to give up and I am not leaving without you”. When we arrived at Phoenix a family member took us to the airport in Reno to fly us to Atlanta, Georgia

Since I was a kid, I had a ton of responsibilities, cleaning up after myself, doing chores, managing to not fight with my brother, although we fought all day everyday, but you know, it happens. One thing that I didn't know wasn't normal was parenting your parent. I go to school do all my class work and during recess and lunch I listened to all the other kids talk about going to the park after school and eating dinner together with their parents. When I got home from school, I had to do my homework and then take care of my mother. Bring her things she needed such as food, water, help her with many other simple everyday activities. Of course I wasn't the only one who was her “little helper” as she put it, my dad helped her and my older brother by two years,

The American dream is something that everyone should believe in, I know I do. Throughout my whole entire life I have wanted to be successful. I believe in myself and know that I can accomplish anything I put my mind to. The American dream says that everyone should be treated equal. Unfortunately, this is not the case. Everyone is judged for their height, weight, race, age, likes, dislikes, etc. In the world today you must conform to the social norm to be considered “cool.” Part of me wants to feel that way and the other part of me just wants to be original and do whatever I want. When I was a little girl I used to perform in musical theater. I loved it so much it made me the happiest I have probably ever been in my entire life. Did everybody

Being an adopted child, the idea of a reunion is always lingering in the back of my mind. I always wondered if my biological father had a very loud laugh like I do, or if my mother liked to shop as much as I do. When I was younger I really didn’t think much about me being adopted, I just knew that I was different from my family. Well,l obviously I was different because I was from South Korea while my adoptive parents were from New Jersey. I never really knew anything about my birth parents, other than the fact that my mother was very young when she had me and my father wasn’t in the picture at the time, so my mother put me up for adoption so I could have the best life possible. At a young age I didn’t ask about my adoption because I didn’t have the ability to identify my experience and articulate my feelings yet, but now since I’m coming to an age where I’m about to start my life as adult, I think it’s time to confront my feelings and thoughts on my adoption.

When I think of America, I think of one sole word: determination. Our history is a medley of spectacular accomplishments and now-realized mistakes. We’ve struggled with issues that appear to be simple, yet the effects of past hardships can still be felt today. For example, we thought we had ended racism by making African-Americans equal under law, after the civil rights movement, but this same issue has merely developed into social discrimination. Despite the problems that remain and evolve with us through time, the most defining attribute every American has is their will-power to achieve their dreams. To many, these dreams are to end racial, gender, or sexual orientation discrimination. To many, these dreams may even be as seemingly simple

Imagine the news headlines filled with nothing but people like you - same hair, skin, defining features - except all the headlines are filled with death. Death at the hands of people we are all taught to trust with our safety. This is how my 2015 summer had been. Days upon days of headlines with black people being killed by “peace” officers. As the list of names grew longer, it became apparent that there was no intention to protect the black community, instead, the public was being “protected” from us. Growing up in a community of minorities, I had come to believe that there was a sense of solidarity in our struggles. I was wrong in thinking our shared status meant unity. At the core of every marginalized community, is a sense of anti-blackness. This harsh realization happened during a class discussion when everyone was throwing into my face that ultimately my feelings and thoughts did matter. I was reminded that I was an other and I stood alone in this fight for my community.

Growing up in America, I have always been surrounded by many cultures and different ethnic groups. Many of those cultures differ from my own traditionally. For the first half of my life, I was raised in detroit, a predominantly black city - I had always assumed. My family eventually moved out of Detroit and we moved to Inkster. Inkster was a much smaller city, but it was also a predominantly black city. In 2011, my family moved from Inkster, Michigan to Canton, Michigan. Although the two cities are less than a half hour apart - the cultural and ethnic groups are extremely diverse. While attending my freshman year of high school in Canton I realized, I was a minority there. More than half of the student body, more than half of the community

Growing up in America, the majority of people are never worried about where their next meal is coming from or how it was prepared. I have personally been spoiled throughout my life always having an abundant supply of food along with a mother that cooked every meal for me. I dreaded waking up at 5am every morning to head off to the chicken house and pick up, at times, hundreds of dead chickens. Taking Food Science 1000 this semester, I now have a wealth of knowledge about food and food science. I now have a greater appreciation for farmers worldwide as their hard work provides billions of families with food. It has shown me that even small family operations, like my family's, still make a huge impact on the world. Before this class I never really

I didn’t grow up poor, we had nice clothes, a nice home, good schools and plenty of food and we went on vacations every summer. Me and my 8 siblings had a great childhood. It’s one thing to read about poverty and it’s another thing to sit in the dark with an empty refrigerator, hungry and wondering how to get yourself out of poverty.

Growing up in the United States, popular culture has always threatened some part of my cultural identity. In this sense, I can sympathize with a legion of other youths in the same situation. In order to assimilate into American culture, it becomes almost absolute to lose some part of ethnic heritage. Although I still spoke and understood the language, it was progressively harder for me to communicate to my immigrant parents.

My interviewee is a second generation immigrant with one parent who was born in El Salvador and the other who has Mexican roots but was born in the United States. For the purposes of confidentiality my interviewee will be addressed as Ana from here on out. In this interview paper I will discuss the experiences that Ana faced growing up in a tri-racial household. I will also evaluate her experiences regarding assimilation to the lectures and reading assigned through out this course.

I was born in Raeford, North Carolina to Stephanie W. Henderson and Donnie Henderson Jr. When I was three my parents separated and they agreed to joint custody. My mom and I moved to Kansas City, MO in 2008. I lived back and forth between Raeford and Kansas City from 2008 to 2013. Summer 2013, I moved in with my dad for high school. From the age of five, I’ve loved music. Any type of music is my type of music. In example, my playlist includes Dolly Parton, Metallica, Rihanna, Keith Urban, and 2 Pac. I’ve been in choir since I can remember. My love for music is phenomenal but as far as being a musician; I’m a mediocre singer and I’ve tried to play bass guitar. I inherited my love for music from my father. Only difference is he’s good at playing instruments. The reason (what I had thought for years) my mom moved to Kansas City was to mend her relationship with her mom. Neither of my parents went to college, my mom didn’t even graduate high school. The last time my mom saw hers was when she dropped out. Turns out the

Hey Its your girl Piper Evans, I am a spontaneous 15 year-old gal. I live in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. I am part of a middle class typical american family. My family consists of my Dad, Brooks Evans, my Mom Sharon Evans and my annoying tarantula-of- a-brother , Upton Evans. My family originates from Greek roots on my Dads side and Italian roots on my moms portion of the family. My great-grandfather started a bakery and then elevated it into a branch of bakeries making us bread royalty, hooray! My mom runs the bakeries, making her the only heir to the bread throne, while my Dad is an accountant.

My whole life I have been in the lower class, I don’t have as many privileges. That’s why I learned to use what people take for granted to my advantage. When I was five years old I was homeless with my father. I improved my reading skills by reading newspaper articles and bus stop signs. We went place to place looking for a home while it wasn’t present.

First i thought i have to provide tuitions or do a some type of job which could afford my expenses. I selected first option and i got tuitions. By these chunks, i paid my dues.