Personal Narrative: My Immigration To America

After our long, miserable ship ride, we were dropped off at Ellis Island where we were herded like cattle. We were inspected head to toe, and asked so many questions. Nurses pinched, pulled, and probed all over, and my little sister sobbed the entire time. My poor mother barely passed the medical inspections since she caught an awful cough and lost so much weight on the ship. There were tears in all of our eyes when we were greeted by my father and brothers when we were finally cleared to enter America. I believe my mother and I aged three years in only a month’s journey, but my father and brothers had different look to them, tired, but also happy and

The year of 2014 late summer I came to America with dreams and hopes, expecting the better for me and my family. I have family that had came before me; however they weren't that respectful for someone that had been living in Mexico their whole life. I used to get put down by the way I looked, talked or how I acted. I recall that they would talk in english about me , and make fun of me , so I wouldn’t understand what they were saying. I have cousins that don't even appreciate all the sacrifices that one as a parent has to make , so they are able to give a better life for their kids. On the good side of the story I would always keep in mind how I came here? thanks to who?and why?. So I realize that I fitted in the Hispanic community by attending to Hispanic events, playing soccer, and cooking hispanic food.

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.

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

In 2014, I, following my mother, moved to US as an immigrant. Everything was different. San Jose is the first place that I live since I came to the US. It is a crowded city, with the population is about one million. I was stunned by the traffic systems, amazed by those crowded avenues. The typical weather is dry, hot and windy. I love seeing the grasses, on the fields, or up to the mountain, wither into brown in the summer and become green after those rainy days. I love walking along on the side-walk, and watching the Acer Rubrum's red leaves falling from their branches in an Autumn evening. I suddenly realized that I loved this place as more as Duy Xuyen, even though it was pretty tough on me

A man’s heart anxiously pounds within his chest, his fists closed, and teeth clenched. Droplets of sweat splash as they seemingly fall from his forehead. He tightens the grip of his baggage as he fixes in on the swift horizon, emerald eyes feverously searching for hope. Full to bursting with tears, he spots his copper lady from a distance. Her torch brilliantly alit in welcoming embrace.

I immigrated to the US with my family six years ago. At that time, we had a hard time adapting to the new environment because of the new language and the differences in culture. During the first few weeks after I started school, I felt really frustrated at myself as my inadequate english skills were not good enough for me to communicate with my teachers and peers. However, my parents were the ones that suffered the most. The language barrier made it difficult for them to find jobs and get through their daily life tasks. I still remember vividly that one time when my dad and I went to a pharmacy to pick up his medications. He struggled to communicate with the pharmacist and recieved juding stares for his broken English. For the first time in

June of 2005, I came to America. My family and I ended up in Palm Springs, California, broke, without a home, and absolutely clueless on what to expect. Years later my mother would tell stories of my rebellious behavior as I had a tough time fitting in with the rest of the children; I would always lock myself in the car to avoid school and cause massive tantrums in classrooms when my mother wanted to leave me in a room with people whom I could not even communicate with. I am grateful for my parents bringing me here because if they had not, I would not be who I am today: a young adult with a very distinct knowledge of the side of the world that no one tells you about.

When I first came to Boulder, I lived in the dorm of our university, and I have this roommate who comes from Britain. She was really mean to me all the time and didn’t respect me at all, while I’ve tried my best to be as nice as I could. Since we shared one bedroom and of course the bathroom, she always went home really late in midnight and sometimes even brought her friends directly into the bedroom and woke me up from sleeping.

I think I am talking to the right person. I came to U.S in 1995 March. Because that was my first journey my cousin looked for someone I can travel with and found a person he knew flying to U.S in that same day. I think I travel with you from Trivandrum to Bombay and then from Bombay to JFK, someone was also going to Canada with you on that flight. I am not sure it’s you.

My father migrated to the United States from Mexico in the 1980s, due to the impoverished conditions including the high rates of unemployment. As a result, my father became a United States permanent resident, which granted him with the opportunity of petitioning for his entire family. In 2000 we obtained our United States permanent residence cards and my family and I migrated to United States along with my father seeking the American Dream. In the midst of all, my father, my sister, my brother became United States citizens, however, my mother remained a permanent resident. Furthermore, both of my parents have been my utmost role models for my siblings and I, where we lived in a pleasant civil house. My father worked incredibly hard to maintain

The year was 1910 , I just made it to the Golden Door in New York City . There were a tons of people , everywhere I turned I seen Italian , Greek , Slav , Russian , Jewish , East European , and even Armenian people . I then met a Jewish family that helped me get to The Office of the Superintendent of Immigration . Me and the family were approved and admitted after hours of waiting . Then I asked one of the officers where should I go now ? He told me I should head over to “ Ellis Island .” So me and the family followed the crowd of people to the New York Harbor , were we sat and waited for hours to get on the boat . When we abroad the boat , people were pushing and shoving to find a secure spot on the boat . Everything happened so fast that

As I walked in there was bunks on one side, I seen all different culture groups. Then, I sat down next to a girl about my age, she had long brown hair, blue eyes, and she had a baggy looking dress on . “ Why are coming to America “, the lady ask me. “ My husband works in America “, I said softly. “ I just want freedom, oh my the way, my name is Rachel Catherine “, Rachel said. “ My name is Hazel Elizabeth “, I said. The next 9 days at sea was horrible, I got very badly seasick, no food or water , some people were stealing out of the trash, I got some bread on the 8th day on the ship. On the next mog, I woke up, I saw the most remarkable thing I ever seen, the Statue of Liberty. People on the boat starting cheering and weeping with joy. Few minutes passed, I step off the boat heading toward Ellis

When I was five years old, I went through an experience that changed my life forever, but of course I didn’t know it then. I remember saying goodbye to my parents, getting on a plane, and leaving for a country I’ve only been to once before. I immigrated to the United States with my grandparents and older sister-- who is only one year older than myself-- leaving my parents when I was only five years old. Having immigrated from at a young age I was able to assimilate to my new life rather quickly: I spoke English just as well as the kid who sat next to me by the time I was six or seven years old, I became accustomed to American public school, but most importantly, I got used to being separated from my mom and dad. Of course it was not just my

It was a hot and humid afternoon as my family and I stepped out of the airplane and walked towards the immigration line. A reunion was planned a year in advance for my mother and father’s golden anniversary. Their wish was for the whole family to come together from different parts of the globe to celebrate for a few weeks. As we stood and waited at the long line to enter our homeland, I imagined how much it had changed since I last stepped foot back home. We came home in 1992. I already imagined the food I planned to eat, the places I planned to see, and the people I hadn’t seen for some time. It felt nostalgic. I felt a rush of excitement.