Personal Narrative: My Family: If We Came Here From Valasco, Ecuador

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.

America has long been the land of hopes and dreams People from all over the world came to America for a better life. America was underpopulated. For the country to build and develop, she needed more people, therefore the government passed Act 1802, which invited people to come here and become citizens (Welcome). The native people of the country welcomed everybody to come live and become citizens here. They also claimed that they would respect and appreciate human rights and would not discriminate against people of other nations. Randall and Morales describe the efforts and struggles of immigrants who came to the United States and tried to become her citizens, a thing that in reality is very

My heart raced uncontrollably as I waited for my turn to come. I was sitting, for the first time, in a classroom in the United States, surrounded by people who were at least 2 years older than I was. Professor Knapp had asked for each one of us to stand up and state the reason why we were taking the Entrepreneurship course that summer at the University of Southern California. I thought I was prepared to answer what seemed like such a simple question, until I heard the responses that my fellow classmates were giving. “I want to expand my apparel business to other states” “I want to make even more than the 70 thousand dollars I made in the stock market last year” “I want universities to encourage the use of the app I built”. What was I supposed

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.

As a part of an immigrant family, there is no doubt that, as the oldest, I had to help my parents with English translation. Even though I have been in this role for years, it was not until recently that I realized the significance of my responsibilities.

Much to my own embarrassment, my Hispanic heritage had been a thing I hardly thought of. My Father left my family when I was young, and with him went the hopeful wisps I had of learning about myself. It’s not to say that I wasn’t aware that I was Hispanic, but rather, growing up in a mainly white household I didn’t think I had any right to claim my ethnicity. However, the more I look around me and learn about the community Hispanics have grown accustomed to, the more I find that I understand where I came from. To me, being Hispanic isn’t about what you were told when you were younger, or the traditions you grew up with. Rather, being Hispanic is about learning where you come from, and learning about those who share your same heritage. ‘Hispanic’

“Wow...there is no way you’re Latino. You’re way too white!” was the ignorant remark made by a one of my peers during my school’s annual Latin-American Fest. Initially, hearing this claim made me look into the mirror. I began to stroke my face and examine my physical features. Was this true? Was I not Latino enough? Did the amount of melanin or lack thereof deem me as Latino?

I grew up in a small town in the state of Michoacan, Mexico until a few weeks after my seventh birthday. In 2001, after six years since my father petitioned to have us come to the United States with him and finally he had received a letter from U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services that his request had been approved. Being of that age, I was my mother’s companion everywhere, however, all I could grasp from those conversations was that we were going to the United States. I don 't think any of us knew what this meant or to what extent this would change our lives, not even my parents whom I thought knew it all.

My Hispanic culture is exceedingly unique contrast to other cultures because we have countless of beliefs, holidays, lifestyles, etc. My world of Hispanic culture raised me to become an independent and determined person because being the first generation of a Hispanic family to attend college has my family beyond thrilled for me to put value to our heritage. Putting value in our heritage is a magnificent emotion because people anticipate Hispanics to fail; but, we prove them wrong when we accomplish our goals. The Hispanic culture’s strength is unbelievably astonishing because we are ambitious of our dreams and we don’t cease until we fulfill our wish. Including the Hispanic culture at University of Washington may open people’s mind that we

I interviewed my daughter in law, Veronica, who is a first-generation citizen, having both her mother and grandparents gone through the long lengthy, extensive process of becoming legal American citizens. They worked at becoming Americans. They did not sneak in.

Every year I go to Mexico, during spring break and summer. It's always relaxing laying on the beach or going on a nice refreshing swim in the 70 degree water. It was an average day down in mexico during the summer of 2017; I remember my family and I relaxing at home after a long day on the boat. I was feeding the street dog because I could tell she was either having puppies, or already had puppies. She was starving to death, her ribs were showing, I knew I had to help her. I started feeding her three times a day so she could start producing milk if she’s already had the puppies; or so she could keep the puppies healthy while she was still pregnant. A few days later I walked outside to feed her, and I hear whimpering like the sound newborn puppies

During the time my grandparents were married they were considered to be upper class. My grandfather was a land owner in town. He helped other Hispanic people so they could have a place to live while they got a job until they were able to pay him rent. My grandparents separated in 1953 and were divorced in 1958. At that time, it was unheard of for women especially of Hispanic decent to divorce their husbands. Once divorced, she went home to live with her parents. My grandmother later became employed as a housekeeper and worked for $1.00 an hour. She lived on her own in the early 1970’s, and then she moved in with my parents and me. I was surprised to find out from reading the text book from this class this semester that as I am considered

It's significant to me because when I went with my family to Cartagena, I was 7 years old. it was the first time I was going on a trip outside of the United States. when we got to Cartagena I was amazed by how beautiful everything is, and I was shocked with how different it was from back home. The differences I saw sparked a curiosity in me, that I never knew existed. from that moment I fell in love with learning about different places around the world and the culture that comes with that place. the trip to Cartagena was also the first time I got to see some of my family members. I have always lived in Florida and only knew about the family members I had in South America through what my parents would say about them. When we arrived to South

Thirty years from today I left my native country, Romania with my family to come to America in the state of New York. I remember with perfect clarity, the day we arrived at John F. Kennedy airport. I was only nineteen years of age. I have to admit that my family and I were afraid of the unknown. We exited the airport, got into a van,drove for about 45 minutes , and checked into the Aberdeen Hotel. At that time Aberdeen Hostel was mostly for transit immigrants. To be precise, it was for political refugees. My parents received a United States visa after my mother ended her twenty-one days of hunger strike. During our stay in the hotel, we went job hunting. I was fortunate enough to find a job right across the street from the hotel. It was

As I looked out the window of the airplane, nothing below me looked familiar. The tall beautiful buildings of Spain that I once saw every morning were gone. The smell of my favourite next door bakery was soon going to get replaced. All my sunday adventures after a fascinating church service ended. Spain was where I belonged; an incredible country with incredible people. But I had to leave Spain in my past; I was moving to a new place and things were never going to be the same. I was distressed and frightened. There were no words that could describe how I felt that day when I realized that "home" wasn't in Spain anymore.