Personal Narrative: Mexico, Not For Me

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.

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.

My story would have never begun if my parents had not made a huge decision in my life, almost 15 years ago. When they decided to move our family across the border, my future would be become unknown. The fate I had been destined to have was completely altered, now, I had the opportunity to change my life for the better, to strive for something bigger. My parents pushed me to be the best I could be, and to work as hard as possible to get what I wanted. As the daughter of two Mexican immigrants I grew up in a very cultural household, and being surrounded by Spanish at all times. The only negative being I had to learn English on my own, and which led to me having some difficulty when I first started school. Yet, growing up in a Spanish speaking

As an American born and raised, I have surprisingly, never given much thought on how my race impacts my life and the people around me. It seems as if society today is obsessed with knowing what we are racially and where we come from, rather than our character and how we think or how we carry ourselves culturally.

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.

During the summer my family and me went on vacation to mexico to see my grandma at her house it took us 2 days to get to her town is mexico when we got there is was 11 at night my uncle opened the garage door to let us in when we got off the car my grandma opened the door to let us in her house she gave everyone a hug the her and my mom started to cook food for everyone. After everyone got their suitcases out of the car and took them to there room my mom and dad slept in one room, my sister and her daughter slept in another room and my nephew and me slept in the living room. The next day my dad showed me around the town he grew up in where his other family members who lived there, and his aunt who owns a store on the corner of the street. When

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.

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.

Everything was so new and yet so familiar. Places I have seen and places I have not. A new and funny feeling swam through my body unsure what to think about this feeling. Never felt it before, and I somehow knew it wouldn’t be that last.

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.

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.

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.

Currently, as stated above, our children are of ages five and nine. They truly are inextricable towards their father. Fernando Jr. Is currently in 3rd grade at elementary school. He is a very smart child and has a huge heart. On the other hand, Melissa, is truly full of energy, excitement, and is exceptionally intelligent. I know that as a mother, if I have to be away for awhile, it would be devastating for me. It would make me feel angered, anxious, and of course depressed. I would never want to come home to my kids not being able to greet their father like they usually do, with hugs and kisses. Also, knowing that I will not be able to have the financial support of my husband will devastate me. Currently my husband and I are employed. I am