Personal Narrative: My Life As An Immigrant

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.

There were three lessons that my immigrant parents ingrained in their first-generation children: Work hard, never give up, and most importantly, give back. Among other life lessons they taught us, these three were the basis for everything. It would be the basis that would and will define me as a person.

“Mom, will I ever be treated as a regular person? When will I be like the others without people look at me in a strange way and make fun of me, when mom? When?” Those were the questions I did to my mom almost every day after getting home from school. Fourteen years ago that my parents brought me to this country offering a better life with better opportunities than where I was born. I was seven years old when came to the United States, but I still remember the happiness I felt when I first step in this country. Throughout the years, I have realize that not everything is easy and simple as I imagined. My parents worked in the fields because of the lack of a social security and not knowing how to speak English. Many Americans do not know how hard it is the life of an immigrant, they should have a consideration for us and not just blame us for the deviance of the United States.

It is not uncommon to hear one recount their latest family reunion or trip with their cousins, but being a first generation immigrant, I sacrificed the luxury of taking my relatives for granted for the security of building a life in America. My parents, my brother, and I are the only ones in my family who live in the United States, thus a trip to India to visit my extended family after 4 years was an exciting yet overwhelming experience. Throughout the trip, I felt like a stranger in the country where I was born as so many things were unfamiliar, but there were a few places that reminded me of my childhood.

When I arrived at the parents’ house, the children were not present. The mother, father and parental grandmother were the only three in the home at the time. The house appeared to be clean. When I entered the home, the mother stated that the children were about to pull up with the aunt. I waited in the living room for the children to arrive. The mother went into the kitchen to cook some breakfast. A couple minutes later, the aunt arrived with the children. The mother had answered the door, and helped the aunt with the youngest baby. The children were happy to see the mother answer the door. The mother gave hugs to the two youngest daughters. The mother took the baby out the car seat and held him as she sat on the couch. The two daughters were

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

The person I chose to write about is my sister Quella Jackson. She works as a supervisor at an all female facility called New Life Children’s Center in Canyon Lake, TX.Women account for 22% of people in her position (Employed 2017). Due to the nature of her work, I am not allowed on the campus and the getting a picture would be quite tricky. So while she was preparing food in their kitchen, she decided to FaceTime me and I saw an opportunity to get my picture. This photo is very meaningful to me because first, it was taken on my birthday, and two, I look up to my sister. I chose my sister to photograph because I grew up in a large family and my older sister essentially raised me.

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

As an immigrant learning about the lives of those who have different experiences from me has always been important to me. One way that I have tried to open myself to learn about others is the course that I have taken in school. When it comes to my major in addition to focusing on public policy I also took various course regarding American Government and race (Race and American Political Development, Slavery and American Politics etc.). Overall throughout my academic career I have taken various courses that deal with the topic of race, gender, human sexuality, the conflict in the middle east and human rights overall.

It was time to finish work for the day. As I was packing my belongings together, I looked at the picture that reminded me of those occurrences that had taken place 25 years ago. The picture was of Alannah, my twin. This picture was taken a few days before our family was broken apart. She was a young girl of around 6 years old. She had fair skin and brown hair with blue eyes. This reminded me of the first 6 years of our free and innocent

This picture captures a very special moment for my family and I. In this moment, my dad whispered into my ear, “You did it, it wasn’t a easy journey, but you did it.”

Last week, I attended a workshop on refugee issues held at Carleton University. To my surprise, the workshop did not go as I had anticipated.

The first day of my internship at the Refugee Legal Service in Dublin, Ireland I learned the difference between watching news clips on refugees, and what it meant to actually go through the whole process. The asylum process is a painstaking, time consuming, and emotional ordeal. During my time there, I ended up meeting with dozens of refugees, but there was one event that I can still remember clearly. I was invited to help work on a case involving a woman and her son fleeing from South Africa due to facial scarring on the first-born child. After a meeting with several members of our legal team, I reached out to the caseworker and asked if there was anything extra I could do to help their case. She asked that I try to find more evidence to support the claim that facial scarring was still going on in the village the family was from. After spending days researching the area the village was in, I was able to find other accounts of facial scarring. Because of my extra efforts that helped her case, I was invited to attend the hearing at the High Court.

In my picture, people may assume that my family are all having a good time, but that is not all the picture depicts. In fact, right before the picture was taken my family and I had been riding bikes and it came a monsoon rain. We were all ill and frustrated at each other because we were uncomfortable due to the wetness of our clothes. When we got to an overlook that oversaw The Rocky Mountains everything changed. Our moods differed from just a few minutes earlier and we were all happy looking at the skyline of the mountains. Pictures show many memories and aspects of things that the viewer may not see. My picture says a lot about my personality and how I live my life. Looking back at this picture it makes me realize how I am an extrovert. This picture is an expression of how I am not only adventurous but also it reflects my leadership qualities, outgoing nature, and is a visual representation of my family values.

I was born in the cold month of February in a city called Lahore, Pakistan. People call it a city that never sleeps. My grandfather lived in India for half of his life than when the war between Indo-Pak independence in 1947 started, he came to Lahore Pakistan. Afterword’s, he found a good job at the bank and begin settling into life. I never knew that he was one of the first people who worked in the banking sector in Pakistan. He got married and had my father in 1954. Most of his life he was a great worker and a good father. He formed a good relationship with the town. My grandparents had eight kids. When my father was in college, my grandfather died because of having a heart attack. Since my grandfather was the sole earner for the family, the next earning hand was my father. He immediately got a job and helped his family. He got married at the age 30 and had five children. Two girls and three sons.