Personal Narrative-Mexican Immigrant

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.

Along with being a diligent student who has been enrolled in 11 Advanced Placement classes, I have also dedicated my time to other causes. For example, I have volunteered at public libraries, Special Olympics events, orphanages for intellectually disabled children, and food pantries. While maintaining a rigorous course load and volunteering, I also work at Kumon. I tutor children to boost their confidences and understanding of concepts vital to their future success. Moreover, I have received membership to The National Honor Society and have been awarded an AP Scholar with Merit Award. My dedication to becoming more culturally aware and five years of enrollment in Spanish classes has allowed me to be inducted into Spanish Honor Society. Within

So being a National Honor Society student, the last couple of years I’ve loved finishing ways I can help my community. I’ve always loved doing little things to help someone who needs it Community service to me, is more than just holding the door open for someone, picking up trash, or helping someone with their groceries. I want to help people grow and be a better person while serving my community. I’m glad I do more than volunteer, I try to impact the lives of people and I feel that is what I have

When I was living in Cleveland, Ohio I have a friend that is an illegal immigrant. She is Mexican. We lived in the same apartment building. The apartment was different. It stretched to sky and I thought i was going to fall. She is just a year older than me. Her dad is janitor during that time when I was new to America. She is really nice and friendly. We always hung out and sleep over each other house. A couple of years later, I asked her “how did you come here?” She said, “ well, I don’t really remember how I got here, but my dad told me that we came by ship. It was not easy. He faced a lot of struggle just to get us here.” She came here when she was 5 years old and her name is Jameil. Her dad worked really hard. Her dad was divorced with

At the age of fifteen, I could barely speak an English word. As I sat on the plane with a blank head flying across from Vietnam to the United States, I knew completely nothing what’s going to happen in my life. After almost twenty-four hours sitting on an intolerable chair, I arrived, as I looked above my head “Welcome to the United States”. And yes, welcome to my story, and undoubtedly my experience is the author.

A few years ago, I was with my family, walking the streets in New York, on our way to buy dinner. My mom had given me and each of my brothers ten dollars to spend on money. As we were walking, I noticed a man. He was sleeping on the side of a wall, a torn blanket covered his chest. His hair looked ungroomed

I am proud to say that I am Mexican/American because I have more opportunities when looking for a job for knowing how to speak both English and Spanish. Knowing that my parents both came from Mexico makes me a proud daughter because of all the hard work and dedication they put to get me to where I am today. Although it wasn’t easy for my parents to cross the border, I look up to them for bringing me into this world full of opportunities. My dad risked his life walking through the desert in order to cross the border to enter the United States all because he wanted give his kids a better future. My father wanted my siblings and I to be able to have a good education because he didn’t want us to go through the difficult moments he went through

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.

Being an immigrant is not easy, specially when you have to adapt to another environment. Learning english was one of the hardest things I have ever done in my life. Every time someone spoke to me english, l began to get frustrated. Sometimes I used google translator to do the assignments and projects that they give me, and sometimes my classmate would translate for me the english sentence my teacher spoke, And it would help my english get better.

Being an immigrant is a mind numbing experience. I didn't know a speck of english and I barely understood my teacher. I had to adjust to the whole new culture. But at age 6 that was easy. I quickly figured out that in here we didn’t have to pray every monday. I didn’t have to put on a uniform everyday. I can easily get free food from the cafeteria when my mother signed me up for the free lunch program. In America I didn’t have to smell the canal and street trash anymore. In just 3 weeks my whole life changed. I got used to it for about 2 years, then I had to go back. Back to the gang-filled, starving, broken house that I was born in.

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.

I’m juror number eleven I immigrated from Europe to the US I work as a watchmaker.I believe in the justice system in America and will see that it gets carried out fairly and properly. I’m quite, polite, honest, educated, and I’m observant to all the facts, I will take everything into consideration before making a decision on a verdict.As I said before Im quiet and poliet I keep to myself untill I am asked to speak or when details need to be remembered and I treat everyone one with respect. At first I believed that the defendant was guilty but as we deliberated I came to see that there was a reasonable doubt that the defendant was innocent.

I was born in a third-world country. Though my family and I came to the United States when I was 8 months old, there is no disputing the fact that I am an immigrant. By definition, this word “immigrant” only means a person who migrates to another country to live there permanently. However, there is an apparent stigma in this country marking those with such a title like myself. To be looked down upon as an immigrant in a country founded by immigrants either shows the inherent negative stereotypes forced on those from several regions around the world, or the widespread belief that nationalism here is weakening. Both statements are confusing and lacking rationale.

Throughout last generation, immigration has been vital for my family- my mother is an immigrant, and so are my paternal grandparents. Being Mexican immigrants in a land that does not accept you is hard; I’ve seen the struggles firsthand. Like my grandparents, my mother did not have many opportunities once she entered the United States. She came seeking to start a career and make a name for herself, yet ended up being an assistant manager at Wal-Mart. Nonetheless, she has worked hard alongside my father to provide the best for my brother and I. But I know if she was a white American without a Mexican accent,

I have light skin and green eyes. It could be said that they’re my defining features, setting me apart from most girls, especially for a Mexican. At first glance, people tend to assume that I’m barely Mexican or not Mexican at all. It was always the same routine in a new class, at first glance people decided that I was not Mexican, then my name, Azucena, is called and they get thrown off. Maybe she is Mexican. It is only when I speak Spanish, which I do often with pride, that they realize that I am Mexican. They’re assumptions didn’t affect me. I liked who I was and kept them guessing. However, I wasn’t always as confident. In Mexico, when I was not yet fluent in Spanish and where I was easily influenced, my defining features became my biggest insecurity.