Personal Narrative: My Hispanic Heritage And Culture

As a first generation, Mexican-American student who is proud of being involved in both Greek life and the Theatre community on campus, I believe that I have a very unique position as a member of the Cornell community. As a first generation, Mexican American student I know the struggles that come with navigating the college process and all the obstacles that come with it. I can empathize with others who might be facing the same struggles and I enjoy being as helpful as possible, so that others can avoid some of the road blocks that I faced during the college search process. As a member of the Greek community, I understand the importance of philanthropy and building a network with other diverse minds. Through this community I have come to value

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 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.

Leaving home at the age of 18, loving on my own, figuring how to become an adult, and moving out to college, there were many things being thrown at me in which I was not fully prepared for them. Moving out at 18 is normal for any high school graduate in The United States. Being a Mexican American women it was more than just the net step to life , but a huge accomplishment. Being ascribed into a poor family increased the desire to move forward. My parents did not want me to follow their footsteps into the world of low waged labor, they wanted more. Growing up all I heard from teachers and family members was to go to college. For many it’s the normal thing for a high school graduate to do. For me it was more than socialization it was the path

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?

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

Being Hispanic means a plethora of things, but its primary meaning is that I was born with a burden. It is the burden of an unprogressive time that we live in, through no fault of my own or anyone else whom may be labelled Hispanic. I have seen the plight of the Hispanic community throughout all of my life and while I have suffered little compared to others, the collective Hispanic experience can be summed up as uphill battle. From broken families to refugees fleeing domestic turmoil, most Hispanic families have suffered a great amount of both physical and psychological damage just to have the opportunity for a better life for their families; even if this is not the experience, the discriminatory treatment and prejudice towards all Hispanics

Growing up as a Latino in a community where most of the population are Hispanic had made me blind, detached from the reality of the world and the reality of the college experience, especially in Santa Cruz. Looking at the world I have always known to an extent who had more privilege than others, special attention, and more rights. I have also vaguely known which groups have been treated with less respect seen as less, but all of this didn’t really seem to matter to me in my immediate world. Coming to Santa Cruz on trips such as ORALE and JUSTICE has made me see, made me realize that it does affect me, my family, and my community that privilege is something that isn’t gifted to us but which we fight for, which causes us to be looked at differently

Being a latino in the U.S had been and still is the reason for suffering discrimination against one's aspirations and goals in life. Not only that but as an ESL life was far from being the American Dream most people come to this country looking for. The truth is that for those that had not escape from the category of ESL, prejudice will be a stigma that would follow them through high school and life. From these tumultuous waters I rose. Expectations were low and many assume that I was either stupid or incapable to compete with my classmates. My attitude and determination were the floating devices for my sicking life.

Growing up, I barely heard the early 2000’s hits blasting from the car radio; instead, Marc Anthony would always serenade us. Growing up, Christmas day didn’t begin Christmas morning; instead Christmas day began Christmas Eve night. Growing up, I didn’t dismiss my heritage; instead, I embraced it. My Latino background defines who I am. Surging throughout my body, my Puerto Rican and Salvadoran heritage has shaped me into the person I am today.

As a Hispanic American, I have been exposed to the beauty of my ancestors culture, while living in a country with one of its own. Being the first generation to be born in the United States of America, coming from a family whose roots deeply stem from the Dominican Republic, is an interesting dynamic. While my family is well adjusted to living in the States, they still celebrate as if they were back in their birthplace. They eat, drink, and dance as if they were back home. They speak Spanish to each other despite knowing perfect English. They remind us first generation kids, how privileged we are to be born in the States. As an American, my lifestyle and culture is evidently different than that of my family. I, among my Hispanic American millennial

When I first read the description of this I was thinking in my head that this could actually be an awesome movie. I start to watch it and then at the beginning of the movie it starts off with this bloody car crash and I had no idea what was happening. Then I was thinking this might not be as good I thought it would be. The more I watched, the more confused I became. I knew that the Spanish speaking-world was different than the life I live now, but I didn’t think it was that drastically different. The scene that surprised me the most and still is vividly in my head is when the dogs fight and one of the dogs end up being dead. As I’m watching I’m wondering if that happens in their daily life or if this is just something they made up to put in

I spent my first year at Dordt as a Spanish minor and had always wanted to check out Amistad Cristiana, but I let go of this dream after I switched my minor. I really miss taking Spanish classes, which contributes to why I found my experience at Amistad Cristiana to be so interesting. I only know enough Spanish to hold a basic conversation, which is completely different from the full theological discourse in which I could only make out enough bits and pieces to get a generalized idea of what was going on. I almost wish that I would have attended a service in a language that I was completely ignorant of, because finding myself in the middle range of understanding yet not understanding the language made the service stimulate my brain more than my heart when it came to thinking in terms of Spanish rather than theology. I spent the first half of the service without using one of the personal radios that transmitted an English translation of the speaking through an earpiece. When I decided to wear the translator, however, I still found myself not paying attention to it and preferring to attempt to take in the Spanish.

All (but one) of the courses I enrolled were conducted in Spanish. Each of the courses were 3 credit hours and required formal Spanish. Also, I was able to enroll in courses, such as a 2nd philosophy and a Spanish literature class, needed for graduation. As a pre-med student, I was able to take General Physics I and the lab, which were both taught in English. I learned about the Mexican culture through my interactions with the people and the community through school, homestay, and cultural excursion. Moreover, I learned about the Mexican healthcare system and traditional medicine through shadowing Mexican doctors in the public hospitals and during the cultural excursions, which some involved shadowing doctors in rural