Personal Narrative: My Personal Experiences Of Mexican Americans

My story would have never begun if my parents had not made a huge decision in my life, almost 15 years ago. When they decided to move our family across the border, my future would be become unknown. The fate I had been destined to have was completely altered, now, I had the opportunity to change my life for the better, to strive for something bigger. My parents pushed me to be the best I could be, and to work as hard as possible to get what I wanted. As the daughter of two Mexican immigrants I grew up in a very cultural household, and being surrounded by Spanish at all times. The only negative being I had to learn English on my own, and which led to me having some difficulty when I first started school. Yet, growing up in a Spanish speaking

I interviewed a beautiful and courageous woman, of African descent. Born and raised in Monrovia, Liberia on May 20, 1969. In addition, she has one biological brother and three step siblings. Currently she resides in Loganville, Georgia, where she lives with her two children. By the same token, she and her husband been married for twenty-one years to her loving high school sweetheart husband. Due to unfortunate circumstances, she lost her husband in the line of duty. Causing her to become a widow, continuing to survive life without her husband. When I conducted this interview, had one topic in mind that I wanted to learn more about her life as an immigrant and how did influence her life.

I meet my Grandparents and Mexico because of my mom. “Jamie we are going to Mexico and you will your Grandparents” said my mom “What!”. The time had come I had to say bye to my dad and get into the plane. “Bye dad I will miss you so much” “You will come back Jamie, I will miss you too” my dad answer. We got to Mexico City and my Grandpa was at the airport waiting for us. We got to the town I had never seen so many people all my family was there the family of my dad and mom. I didn't know what to do I was barely 5 years old. They had make tamales and don't remember what else. I just wanted to do is go back to the US. The first few weeks were horrible I hated Mexico they didn't have good pizza and hamburgers the food that my grandma did I didn't

Waving goodbye from the backseat of the car, as we pull out of my parent’s driveway. Looking out the window at the oddly, white shaped clouds. Thinking, I had never been away from my parents and my younger sister for so long, even though it was only for two weeks. I was excited and scared all at once, but I wasn’t too thrilled about the whole 29-hour drive there. Hoping that the trip would go well and nothing bad will happen to us.

As the first and only child in my family to attend college, I represent “Diversity”. My Hispanic heritage and culture has shaped my life by instilling the strong values and principles that Hispanic families and community’s share. Furthermore, my cultural roots have greatly influenced my current journey and have helped me learn and develop as a leader. The professional, academic, and career opportunities I am learning now is what sets me apart from everyone else, and I believe my strong leadership potential and commitment to my fellow peers are essential to becoming an innovative leader.

Coming from a Mexican immigrant family I have learned to recognize since a very young age that because of the status that my parents are placed in they cannot pursue a better future like the one I want. I have been given the opportunity to challenge myself with obtaining a higher education than just high school itself. My parents have demonstrated to me through their hard work that I have to value this opportunity unless I want to end up with low paying job. My life long dedication comes from seeing my parents make sacrifices in order for my education to continue.

“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?

Hi there! I’m 19 years old and I’m a freshman in college. I live in the border of the Mexico and the US therefore my mom would take me to Mexico to see my family, some friends of hers and be able to know our culture. One of our many traits of being Mexican is treating everyone like family. I met this older girl and we would often visit her. Eventually we became a family out of love and care for each other.

I am the daughter of Mexican immigrants. I am the daughter of two individuals who left a small town in the center of Mexico in search of a better life. I am the daughter of two Mexicans who crossed the Mexico-U.S. border, like millions of immigrants, in search of the highly acclaimed “American Dream.” I am a first generation

As a Mexican-American, I am constantly petrified that one day I will awake, and my parents will be nowhere to be found. I could hear the police sirens outside my home, as unknown men were hammering down the front room, seeking to seize my parents. However, what these men of authority did not comprehend was that my parents were not convicts; their only wrongdoing was entering this country in the search for a better life. They didn’t understand these people who they called illegal aliens, only intended to provide me, their son, with all the basic needs they themselves wish to provide to their families. A common nightmare that still to this day flows within my mind waiting to reappear and strike.

I look back now of how I went to mexico for a vacation. I was fifteen in the spring at the time I went to Mexico. The place in mexico where I went was cozumel island. At first we decided to invite the Lees’ and Litmans’ they decided to come. We also invited the Bozzles’ then they invited the Fyles’ and Reeds’. Also on other family I don’t remember the name of. We were there for a week.

Like every Tuesday at 4 pm, I was sitting in the living room doing some homework when I received a text message from a friend telling me that Justin Bieber was going to make an appearance in Gavanna at Saturday. Since that moment I knew I could not miss it. Gavanna is a Latin night club located at the Design District. It is known from Venezuelans as the best night club in Miami. All Venezuelans go there, if they come to Miami for vacations they will go to Gavanna to party. Also, in Venezuela everyone talks about it.

I was always the kid in the corner that no one knew. I was not the brightest flashlight either. Kids made fun of me because I was overweight, and I was always alone. What they didn't understand was that I was going through some really bad times, since I was a little every day I use to be sick, no matter if I took care of myself. I always had the flu sneezing, running nose and swollen through. I use to vomit every time I ate, they took me to a lot of different doctors in Guadalajara Mexico. They all gave me different treatment and medicine, but none of the medicines seem to work. Sometimes it would work for the first three days, then after that I was sick again. I always saw kids getting and eating their ice creams, I could almost feel it in

I am planning to apply fornonimmigration US visa. I am a croatiac citizen, holding an croatia passšprt but I am living and working in Republic of Ireland since 1072014. I am working as a hospotal doctor, and the reason why I am applaying for visa is to attend the conference ( American College of Rheumatology) in Wshington in 11/2016. I am not shure shoudl I put my croatian or irish adress an telephone an my appkication form. Are there any chances to hava an interwiew in Dublin, or do I need to come to Zagreb. Thank you for your help.

One day, you are playing in the backyard and having fun like any other kid would. The next thing you know you are in a different country and the life that you had in the previous country is gone. Now you are facing with culture shock and is living in a place where you don't understand what anyone is saying. Always have to fear the police because you are living in a country illegally. This may not have been a reality for everyone but this was for me and most of the refugees and immigrants. I have moved to a different country twice, once when I moved from Myanmar to Malaysia and the other, when I moved from Malaysia to the United States. I have move places multiple, even while in Malaysia and in the United States. I don't ever get used to it,