Personal Narrative: Matamoros

Mexico is the 14th largest county in the world. The Mexicans speak the Spanish language. Much of Mexican culture revolves around religious values and the church. 95% of Mexicans are of the Catholic faith.

My parents come from a small town in Michoacán, Mexico. Growing up, my first language was Spanish. There were situations where I would be embarrassed of my parents for not knowing how to speak English. People would give mean looks and give off a rude tone because of the fact they couldn't speak English. I was a shy person, so I didn't know how to defend my parents but those experiences shaped me into the person who is not embarrassed about having Mexican parents and helps them around with their English. I am a proud and lucky to be the daughter of Mexican parents. Aside from that, I had been an only child till I was eight years old. The day my sister was born, I knew she will be my best friend forever. She is now ten years old and looks up

My entire family was born in Guadalajara, Mexico. After three and a half years of living there my family decided to seek a better future in The United States. My father would go to the United States back and forth to work and earn money to send to us in Mexico. Eventually my mother was able to get a visa and my brother along with my little sister had an alternate way into the United States. We lived in Dallas Texas and Atlanta Georgia before settling in Howard county Maryland in a very small apartment. Luckily we were doing pretty well with my dad being the only one knowing English at the time. My father was working two jobs and I was getting ready to start kindergarten. I was very excited because the education we would have received in Mexico was nothing compared to the education in Howard County. I was excited for what was to come, but there were disadvantages of knowing only Spanish. Being bullied because of my poor English had an impact on me. I was in completely separate classes learning things that were simple compared to the regular course. I was excluded from certain activities, field trips and assemblies. I was clueless at first though as I slowly learned the language I understood things a lot more.

Mexico is beautiful warm country located in Central America. Mexico has a representative democratic republic, and are currently being run by Enrique Pena Nieto their current president. The criminal and civil laws between the united states and mexico very in many areas; this forces the differences and similarities in the way the court systems function.

In his essay, “Aria: Memoir of a Bilingual Childhood” by Richard Rodriguez, goes into detail about the struggles he is faced with growing up as a Bilingual Hispanic in America. He was an immigrant living amongst upper class American’s with his family. Strictly speaking Spanish gave him a sense of safety and comfort. In school, he would not feel comfortable speaking and was not sure where he belonged. When he first started school, he was a part of the bilingual program up until his parents were informed if would be better for him and his family to learn English. Rodriguez struggled at first with the battle of losing the closeness he had with his family. Feeling like he had lost his cultural background and let his father down. Explaining the struggles, he overcame to become who he is today.

Before I turned four years old, my mother and I moved to join my father in Berwyn, Illinois. My sister ended having to stay back a couple of months so that she could finish her school year. We arrived to a nice apartment in the suburbs, it was a complete scenery change than what I was use to. Everyone seemed to have giant yards, bright green grass, large fences, and freshly painted houses. Back in Fresnillo, we had our large home, but it was rare for houses to have such large yards, so close to the heart of the town. From the time of the move until my first year in kindergarten, I had a bit of time to adjust, watching cartoons in English, I am not quite sure how I picked it up but I did. At that time my mother only spoke Spanish, my father is bilingual, but he would speak to us in Spanish.

I came home one day to see both of my parents sad. As a third grader, I didn’t completely understand at the time, but my father had been laid off from the job he’d had since his teenage years. My father had started at the age of eighteen as a student worker at Southern Miss, and after years of hard work he had been promoted to the manager of shipping and receiving on campus. When the recession struck, the need to save money resulted in his position being terminated. My father was without a job. My father loved that job and when he lost it, he changed. He found a new love, alcohol. He let his love for alcohol become an addiction. He would do anything for alcohol; he even had secret stashes when my mom had removed all the prior alcohol from the house. Quickly my father became a violent drunk and began to routinely beat my mother and me. He became unstoppable; no person could get him back on track so my mother, in an attempt to keep me safe, removed him from the house. Even my mother’s best efforts weren’t always enough, as my father constantly broke into our house. One day my mother and I came home and my father was waiting in our den with a gun. We walked in, he pointed the gun at us, and then back at himself. He couldn’t decide to kill my mother, himself, or just all of us. He had more hatred in his eyes

I was born in Dallas, Texas but when I was 3 years old I was taken to my parents’ home country, Mexico. My mother took my younger sister and me to Mexico while my father stayed in the United States and worked to provide for us. I spend 6 years in Mexico and I went to school there. I had an amazing childhood in the place my parents were born and had the opportunity to grow up around my family and culture. I became a fond lover of the traditions and the peaceful life of what I consider my country. I have many amazing memories from living in Mexico. The way everything called for a celebration where everyone was invited. The dedication that every festival I attended showed. Simply all the traditions that even when I live miles away from Mexico have stuck with me, things I still celebrate with my family every year. I love to be able to call myself Mexican American and to be able to share my parents. My love for Mexican culture plays a role in my decision to want to go to Spain. I want to see where some of the customs I know originated from and see where my ancestors came from.

My father is from jerez zacatecas and my mother is from huajuapan de leon. My parents came here to have a better life and then they met each other and had 3 girls. My sister are proud of where we grew up. Growing up in san bernardino california has taught me a lot for example it has tough me to fight for what I believe in. also that fear shouldn't

“After abandoning everything in our home, everything my parents had worked for, I was met by assault rifles, searchlights and quarters too small for the amount of people it accommodated” my grandfather assured. The property, belongings, jobs and businesses were all left behind in the rash fear

The soldiers ahead were walking quite fast, urging everybody to hurry. Buildings full of people became empty in a matter of minutes with the soldiers knocking from house-to-house, telling everybody to leave. Once we left the city, they split us up into groups of fifty and told us to walk on a specific route. My dad was looking at some of the soldiers and their uniform: completely black with a red & white scarf. No badge and no identification, yet they were holding rifles. He suddenly started removing his badge and wallet; throwing them onto the side of the street, where no one could see

I was born on February 14, 1993 in the city of La Vega, Dominican Republic. I came to New York at the age of 10. The fact that my first language is Spanish placed me at a disadvantage from the minute I stepped a foot in the United States since even at the airport I was not able to communicate with the agent. My biggest struggle was school since the class was taught in English only and most of my classmates only spoke English. Despite my efforts to give it my all to learn the language and adapt to the customs of this unfamiliar place, it seemed to be a challenge I would never overcome. Since my parents and close family members mostly spoke Spanish as well, they could not help me, they only encouraged me to study and read a lot so that I would learn the language faster. I wanted to fit in with kids of my age and to understand when

As I frantically got my lunch, books, and backpack together for school, I heard the news in the living room ringing in my ears. Another shooting down in American history, this one at Sandy Hook Elementary School. The news reporter began to talk about Adam Lanza, the shooter, who was deeply troubled in his teenage years. As the reporter elaborated, he revealed details that Lanza had access to guns. I felt my chest begin to tighten as I thought about dangerous people having the ability to purchase guns with no struggle. With each word spilling out of the reporter’s mouth I suddenly felt like oxygen was escaping my body and a sense of fear came over me. Out of nowhere, like a train hitting a car, I heard my mom yell, “It’s time to go, it’s 7:35.” I say, “Okay I’m coming!” even though

I find myself looking over my shoulder every time I step outside my front door. Violence has opened my eyes and destroyed my dreams of peace. When I first moved to Philadelphia from Puerto Rico, I moved into a neighborhood that was full of gangs and drugs. Philadelphia represented a new start, a chance for me to breathe again. I had experienced a tragic shooting right before my ten year old eyes in Puerto Rico; my mom’s best friend was killed, while the murderer calmly walked away. We escaped to Philadelphia, and I thought my days of witnessing horrific violence were over. However, my dreams were shattered like gunshots in the night. One day, while I was napping, I was awoken by a series of deafening pops. As soon as I heard them, I dropped

Initially, I was an Ecuadorian girl that had a Christian family, I grew up surrounded by my family and loved ones. My cognitive development was in progress, and I had created fundamental bonds in Ecuador. Provided that my dad is an American citizen and due to his work in America, he could not spend too much time with us in Ecuador, so, my mom, my little brother, and I immigrated to America. After three years of my life, our family reunited, and I became an Ecuadorian-American. Since I was very young, assimilating the changes came to be unnoticed, if it weren’t for the fact that during the next years I spoke Spanish at home and English at school. As a result, my translations of these languages affected my communication, creating slow comprehensive