Personal Narrative: The American Culture

It can be very challenging to move away from the country you grew up in. Recalling all those moments of laughter, excitement, and adventure can only make one more and more depressed. I was born in Port-Au -Prince, which is the capital of Haiti and raised in Gonaives. I spend most of my early childhood in Haiti. I only knew my native language, food, music, and history. I was only familiar with my native holidays and celebration. Therefore, the day my mother came to me and told me I had been awarded my resident card, and we had to move to America. My life changed forever.

Studying in a foreign country is an interesting experience of an individual lifetime. One tends to learn a number of things relating to ways of life in a foreign land. Social, political and economic values and aspects are usually different from one region to another. Therefore, through studying abroad one is able to learn different issues about another society such as gender and sexuality issues, social class and race/ethnicity issues. Having come from a developing country studying in the U.S.A has been a great experience personally. This paper will attempt to provide a reflection of my personal experience on studying in the U.S by comparing the history of Angola and the U.S.

Growing up in Ghana, I had heard a lot of things about the U.S. This was a country I had always wanted to visit; my prayer was answered when I got the opportunity to travel there. Arriving in a new environment came with many experiences. Adjusting with food, language and the weather was not easy. With the passage of time, however I have been able to0 adjust and fit it. This write-up therefore is to elaborate on my experiences since coming to U.S.

Although I was born in America, I have always felt like an immigrant. Why? Because I was a different race from the majority of the people around me. I live in Garrett County, where the majority of the population is white. My family was the only Chinese family in the county. On top of that factor, I had spent most of my toddler years back in Fujian, China with my grandparents. I came back to America when I was five years old and began Pre-K soon after my arrival. Throughout my years in public school, I have learned that the American identity is achieved by assimilation while retaining some unique characteristics.

I didn’t believe in aliens until I was abducted by them. I was put in some kind of contraption and I’m not sure what happened exactly, but it’s clear that I’m not where I was. Everything in 2016 is different, I don’t know if I’m in a different state or not but people are dressing differently and acting differently, and the cars, the cars are all different! I’ve been here for quite some time now and have noticed a lot of differences from where I lived in Oceanside, California in 1940. I’ve been transported to the year 2016 and there are so many things that have changed and evolved and among them are political, economic, social, and cultural changes.

I was about nine years old when I first came to the United States from Haiti. Although I was old enough to understand that we were moving, I did not quite understand the importance of the move and why my mom kept referring to America as the land of opportunities. In the beginning, I hated everything, I did not know the language, I missed my friends, I missed Haiti, I missed the familiarity of things. However, my mom constantly reminded me that this is for the best, that our lives have changed for the better. So, I nodded and continued to be unhappy until I started to understand the language, until I started making new friends, until I missed Haiti less and less, and until the United States became home.

Growing up in Haiti has strengthen my survival instinct at an early age. With barely enough to eat, we was dying one by one. Medicine and treatment was very rare for us. Imagine dying from a simple cold due to the fact that aspirin and cough medicine was foreign to us. I recall walking around wishing for better days or looking for ways to help. And I remember being told I was coming to America. America, the place where even the most impossible dreams come true. America, where education is free and very beneficial. Regardless of how young I was, I knew with every fiber in my little body that I would try my hardest to be successful in America. Unable to speak english, school become a challenge. But to all my teachers surprise it took me less

Johnnie, Veronica, Frank et al. do me a solid with all your “knowledge” and “wokeness” step outside your educational privilege and support systems for a minute. I in no place in my post said anything about America being perfect so what you did was hijack a status about the solidarity I feel for the people in my life and in this country who very much will struggle with an intensified troubling life experience in the country to PROVE you have some kind of exceptional wokeness or understanding of America. MISS me with it. No America was not safe for everyone but we just did was extend the people who it was unsafe for. If that’s cool with you then carry on with your bullshit. I have NEVER EVER said it’s a safe place for everyone. I have NEVER

America’s gift to my generation is amazing because veterans have used all their potential for us. They fought for us to be alive right now. Their gift to us is much more than I expected. I am so thankful and I appreciate all they have done for us.

In class we watched a video over a very opinionated male who explained the reason why America is not great. I have a lot of respect for this man and I think that he brought up some extremely valid points that I have never thought about. What I mainly want to touch on is the fact that he accused my generation of being apathetic. He basic says that we could care less and are lazy good for nothings. The best response I can think of is, look at who raised us. Now, I am not saying that it is entirely our parents fault or their parents fault for the reason why teenagers do not care about school, grades, or the world. I am just saying that it is unfair to put the entire blame on my generation saying that we are the reason why the America is not great. He makes it seem that as soon as my

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.

My mother was born in Tijuana, Mexico and my father was born in Zacatecas, Mexico. My parents worked very hard to come to the United States, looking for the American dream. They are dedicated to their family and want the best for their children. My parents have not stopped working, always trying to arrange their work schedule with my two siblings and I school schedules. They taught us that the only way to go forward is to work, to put all our best efforts in everything we want to accomplish in life. My father always tells me “exhale ganas,” meaning always do your best, to do what you are doing with feeling. Since the day they dropped me off at the college dorms I knew

One day I was sitting in English class doing my work. Then a flying whale flew into the wall and destroyed it. It flew over to me and swallowed me whole. It then just flew back to the ocean. While in the whale's stomach I saw some interesting things like a dead person, a needle with steroids in it, a few soccer balls, a rabbit, and a roll of duct tape. After I had been in the whale's stomach for about 3 hours, it started to shake violently. Then something was squeezing the life out of the whale. All of the sudden i was flying through the air along with everything else. I landed on some sort of island.

Walking, walking, and more walking. Today is the day that we begin traveling to Fiume to board a steamship to this place called America. My family doesn't have a lot of money so we can't afford a ride to the port. I only have one pair of shoes and they have many holes in them. We've walked for what seems like an eternity or at least to me. Today is very bittersweet. We're leaving the only place I've ever called home to live in a place we've never seen before. IM not ready to leave. I love Italy but I know it is no longer safe for me, my mom, and my dad. I'm only six years old but I'm old enough to know this could be all a lie. What if America isn't so amazing? What if we done make it? What if we get sent back? So many questions and not

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.