Personal Narrative: My Journey To The United States

My family comes from a humble background. My grandmother started working at the age of 13, with small jobs in order to feed her siblings. My grandfather worked many hard labor jobs in order to provide for our family. With my grandfather’s hard work, he was able to bring my grandmother, my two uncles, my father, my mother, my brother and I into the U.S. My grandparents decided to migrate to the U.S because in Mexico, they had nothing. They had enough to eat but they were still struggling to come out of poverty. When my grandparents migrated into the U.S my grandfather would still work a blue collar job, until he fractured his spine and couldn't work anymore. Nevertheless, that did not stop him from working. He began selling in swap meets, selling

“Times of transition are strenuous, but I love them. They are an opportunity to purge, rethink priorities, and be intentional about new habits. We can make our new normal any way we want”. -Kristin Armstrong. When I heard this quote it reminds me of a specific time in my life when I moved to another country. There are a couple of events that helped me become who I am now.

As I grew up and shared the amazing fact that I was born in a different country, I was constantly asked if I was a U.S citizen. I would always answer yes and explain that my mother had my documents hidden in a bureau, but I didn't know why I was asked so frequently. I didn't pay any attention at first, but the urge to ask my parents grew stronger and stronger until one day at the age of twelve, I decided to ask my parents. That day, I received the news that would change my life forever. With tears in their eyes, I remember my parents telling me the dangerous events that they had to surpass in order to enter this country. I remember how they told me about the little girl that lost her life from dehydration as they crossed the desert and how

I looked at myself at the mirror, drops of water coming out of my eyes like as if it was a rainy day in May. Hearing the news got me so upset and depressed. I sat outside and looked around the place that I have grown up and that meant a lot to me. When I heard that our family was moving to America I was not happy about that.I was angry with my family because I did not want to leave Ethiopia. I did not want to leave my friends and family in Ethiopia. It scared me that I had to leave my old life and start a new one. A month later, it was time to go the airport and get ready to go to the new country. I was nervous; my heartbeat got louder and louder as walked closer to the airport. As I bit my lip, my eyes were dancing to every corner, my legs were shaking, and my hands were sweating. I was sad that I was leaving the place that I called home and that I had to leave all my childhood memories. At the same time, I was excited because I always wondered what it felt like to move to a different country and adapt to a new world, culture, and language. At the airport, I was happy finally come face to face with the big white things that use to fly over my house. I was stunned to see how big they really were. All of the sudden my sadness turned into excitement and I could not wait to start a

Even though it hasn’t been a long time since our family has moved to America, it feels like a lifetime ago. I can barely remember the days of walking around barefoot and only having a small piece of bread to eat, while here everyone has shoes to wear and eats pasta multiple times a week. How my life has changed in such a short time. Everyone and everything moves at such fast pace here, if one blinks they can miss a lifetime. Back in Sicily, the days drug on while everyone went through the motions of their days on the farm. There are many differences between Sicily and here in America, but the first time I laid my eyes on the Statue of Liberty, I knew I was meant to be an American.

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.

Coming to America about six years ago and adapting to the new world proved to be a real challenge for me. Aside from the cultural shock, I had to adapt to the usage of a foreign language in almost everything, which in turn forced me to work harder in my studies than in the previous years. My parents sacrificed a lot for their family. They left their country, their own business, and their family behind so that my sisters and I could have a better future. I came to America when I was in the eighth grade. I did not speak English fluently or understood it very well. When I got the admission in middle school my counselor gave the course selection sheet. I did not even know what courses to pick because the courses were almost alien in nature, or

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.

I was able to understand my reading and writing. So as I caught on with the others kids in my class I stared to like participating with others. By the time I knew it had many friends and they could understand me. Well as time came my elementary years ended and then came the middle school years. I was a little hesitant because even though I had been here for four years I had a Mexican accent.

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.

It all stared at the age of five on hot summer day, the heat was horrible it was as though my very skin was had skipped the meting phase and had gone directly evaporating. To make the situation even worst, my family migrated from Nogales Sonora to Tucson Arizona in an old rusty car that had no working AC. Thinking back I really didn’t know the difference between a person born in the United States and a person born in Mexico, I didn’t even know there was a US and Mexico. I just thought my family was moving from one city to another and had no idea that every member of my family was a US citizen except my dad. Once in school later on in the years, I met a few friends that claimed to not be from the US but were in the country ever since they can

It’s been a little over a month since I got to America from Mexico. I live in New York City now. It’s nothing as I expected it to be people in the city are very rude, one day I was walking to work which is a clothing factory a teenage boy, who looked very wealthy told me, “go back where you come from” and “you don’t belong here.” That’s when I met the nicest woman I have ever met, her name’s Jane. She saw everything that happened, she knew I was scared of the boy and that’s when she gave me this flyer. She told me to come to her organization meeting at this church where she would help me adjust to New York. Surprisingly, the meeting was during a time I didn’t work and I heard a couple of the girls that I work with chatting about it. So, I

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 never had a favorite childhood memory,I never had a very imaginative mindset, all I remember is all the terrible things that has ever happened, may I ask this of you reader have you ever felt alone in a world that simply doesn't understand or why look or do things a certain way? I know I have, we live in a judgmental world we all judge people on how they look and act. Let me ask another question have you ever been put up on a pedestal and when you make mistakes people starts questioning why you didn't succeed or if you did why didn't you do things a certain way? Well enough of the questions, My family has always been the ostentatious gregarious type, they are like a diamond in a coal mine. My story begins around 2007 the year I came to America.

I’m an immigrant. I was born in Mexico and it was only until my parents decided to come to the United States that I am where I am. My mother tried to cross the border to come to the United States for the first time when I was still in her womb all by herself as my father was already in the Unites States working in order to provide for her in the way that he wasn’t able to do so by staying in Mexico. My mother was caught by immigration and was sent back. My mother was very disappointed because she knew that if she didn’t get me to the United States some way or another I wouldn’t get very far in life by staying in Mexico. My father returned back to Mexico when I was born and it wasn’t until I was 4 years old that they decided to try to cross the border once again. Although I was only 4 years old I remember the whole experience as if it was yesterday. The amount of fear of getting caught by immigration and having done everything for nothing was always in the back of my mind while going through the whole experience. Up to this day nothing has ever been as terrifying and nerve-wrecking as having to go through that whole experience especially for a 4 year old child but I will forever be grateful for the bravery and strength that my parents had to gather in