Personal Narrative: My Identity In The United States

I came to US during my 8th grade and that was a life changing moment in my life. It was first time traveling aboard and that also not for a trip but for to permanent settlement. I was nervous my whole time been in the plane that how I will cope up with new environment and with bunch of English speakers. I got more. When it came pilot call for, that it's time to land on the Detroit Airport, tighten your seatbelts and be relax. As soon as the plane landed on American soil, I knew that this was the place where I’d to start a new life. Even though I knew America is the “Land of Opportunity”, everything here seemed so strange to me, the streets, the language and the people that was my first time traveling abroad.

Hi, I’m Anna Sophia Wager and I am from Germany. I immigrated to the United States in 1908. There was a big drought and my mother and father were very ill. I was helping my parents and my other family. One day, my father pulled me aside after school. I was a teacher at Berlin British School. He talked very softly. “Anna Sophia,” My father said, “Here is a ticket to Americana. Go and find Ben.” Ben was my older brother. My parents gave him a ticket to the United States. I looked at the ticket. It was a ticket that was golden brown. I gave my father a hug and ran to my room. I started packing, I didn’t know what was ahead of me. It was finally my third week on the crowded boat. When I look own the steerage door I see the dirty faces, hard lumpy beds, and chunky slimy soup.

I would like to see who could survive as long he did with just books that state some facts. We all have this idea that we could do better then anyone else. For example, the elections are coming up. Numerous people believed that Barack Obama was a lousy president and can not wait to see him leave. The same people also say how they would be a much better president than him. I have no idea how to run a country with millions of people in it and I have a very high suspicion that others who aren’t in politics no either. Just like this not everyone is an expert on how to survive in Alaska.

I am Patt Ryan, an eighteen year old farmer who came to america with a life saving of $3.56. I came with my brother Matt Ryan, a seventeen year old farmer with the life savings of $1.35. We came to America because we wanted to find a better way of life. We also came to find religious freedom. We knew that we would be able to find this in America. My brother and I could not wait to see what America had in store for us. My brother Matt and I sailed to America on the very full Alexina boat. It was a poorly built, crowded boat filled with diseases and short of food. As a result, many of us Irish immigrants got a disease and many others died before we even got to America. My brother and I were one of the lucky ones to stay fairly healthy. Others

“American Dream.” Those two words are what drove my parents to escape the challenges of living in poverty stricken Colombia. Being a first generation, young, female, Latina immigrant my upbringing has made me fortunate enough to embrace all of the opportunities available for me.

There is no set American identity, and anyone should know that. Everyone has their lifetime, not to find, but to create who they are. We create our own identities as we go, whether we take the road of lies, or truth. I´ve had my fair share of jerks, and jocks, and plain stupid people in my life, but those people have helped me create and mold who I am today, even though I may not like the way I am.

I was raised in Matamoros, Tamaulipas, Mexico. I am an U.S. Citizen, and I was born in Fort Myers, Florida, but my whole life I lived in Mexico. I was raised with my two brothers in my grandparents’ house, because my mom was a single mom, and always worked hard to bring money for all of us. My neighborhood was one of the worst, or that is why people said. I never felt in any kind of danger living there, because I knew almost all the neighbors, and also I never like going out to much. My community was not always very unified, because everyone were on their own issues, but every time someone pass out or any inconvenience happened, everyone were there. That was the good thing of my surroundings.

That’s basically all I could understand as I left the immigration center. People all around me were talking in languages I had only studied in textbooks, which barely helped. That was the first time I could really look around and see where I was. The sound of car engines roared in my ears as I walked across the street; people squashed into a small bus while chattering in a garbled language that made no sense. Everywhere I looked I saw chaos, and I couldn’t have been happier.

I am a young 19 year old hispanic female trying to live the american dream. I was born in Michoacan, Mexico. I came to the United States when i was about one year old, so I was raised in Salt Lake City, Utah with my older sister and my brother. After along came my little sister. My parents are both hispanic, they both never made it to high school, they dropped out in elementry. My parents both came to the United States to live the american dream which I believe was pretty hard for them at first because as I was growing up I had a disability. I fell when I was coming to america,which left me unable to walk. I was bullied throughout elementary and jr high but had a bad past in high school because of my disability.

Some people view the outside world as a dangerous place full of disparity and misery, others like to embrace that unknown and try to use it as a catalyst for inner growth. I like to see myself as the latter, the individual who lives for the rush of the unknown. I looked down to see what I could only describe as a dream come true. It was a ticket for a six month tour around Asia that would lead to the complete immersion of native culture and tradition- Vietnamese Pho, the mountain folk of Nepal, the Muay Thai martial arts of Thailand, Chinese Architecture and the beaches of Laos are some of the places that we got to experience first-hand. As a participant I was expected to live with 15 other individuals from around the world that I had never

Living in the United States shaped my character. When I was young my family moved from refugee. In the beginning life was tough getting adjusted to the american life. At a young age I understood that some people looked down upon me because of my background. I had a hard time getting along with other students because of cultural clash. After a while I was able to understand the American culture. My mom was a single parent with six other children and the only place we could find to live in was a neighborhood that was not safe. My mother would never allow us to go outside because she was afraid that we would get in trouble. It was not until college that I was able to understand all I was missing out in the world.

As an international student, it is critical to consider schools which are friendly towards persons who may not share the same culture as the major population of the student body. Having lived and thrived in a culture so different from my own for sometime, I have learned that for the most part, people are a lot welcoming to my culture when I do not try to hide from it but rather, offer my different perceptions and opinions about the questions I am being asked.

I was born in Havana, Cuba and lived there for ten years. If I am honest I cannot remember much about Cuba unlike my mother; however even though I cannot remember much I always used to think that Cuba was home regardless of how long we stayed in America. Similar to most children I took after the actions of my parents while growing up. If my mother and grandmother spoke about Cuba or any topic related to it I would listen to them and then I tried to have the same conversation with my uncle as if to let them know that I was thinking about Cuba as well. I used to believe that when we flew over to America we brought Cuba with us and that was a normal thing; however my thinking was changed over the course of only one year in America.

An anonymous poet once said “ABC and NBC do not weep” and “as blood drips from my television screen onto my living room floor, but I walk around it.” This powerfully speaks to the desensitization of the American society, and to twenty-first-century society as a conglomeration. Every night's millions of us sit down to watch some crime series such as Criminal Minds or NCIS. These shows give society a fractured, disjointed account of the justice system and law enforcement, but they also cause us to become comfortable with the idea of murder and a broken justice in a way, “[the] blood drips from [our] television screen onto [our] living room floor[s], but [we] walk around it,” masking the horror and rationalizing it. I have fallen victim to this

After spending two decades of the chaotic life in a refugee camp, I ended up immigrating to the U.S in April, 2009 as a part of resettlement program offered by the U.S government with the hope of bright future, freedom and opportunity. However, transition to an American society is daunting.