Personal Narrative: The Borderline Between Mexico And The United States

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.

My parents always wanted to give their children the life they never had. I am Mexican-American, both of my parents immigrated from Mexico to the U.S. before I was born. I have numerous relatives, including my older sister, who do not have the same opportunities I have to achieve success because they are undocumented. For them, college was only a dream that could never be attained. Being the first U.S. citizen out of my entire family affected the way I thought about life. It was expected that I would attend college because I was the only one who had access to all the resources granted to American citizens. Although, I agreed with my family, the pressure to succeed and be a role model to my younger siblings was overwhelming.

I have never experienced racism. However, I am not oblivious to those who have experienced racial confrontations. I have heard nasty comments such as “spic” and “wetback” and any other derogatory term that is out there used against my people. I have not always accepted or been proud of my family’s background. expand here.

My grandparents at the time were living in mexico, they had 5 kids when they decided to cross the border to come into the United States. Back then crossing the guards wasn’t as bad as it is today. My grandpa sent his family with a coyote on a truck which took them to fresno, they got across the border by using someone else's birth certificate, because back then that was enough proof to get by. My grandpa stayed in mexico, he didn't fit in the truck so he had to cross the old fashion way by going through the desert. He told me how hard it was trying to survive out there for 3 days. He explained how there was no water and he had to drink his pee. For food he killed snakes and whatever he found out there. He was so close to giving up out there but luckily a

I am Mexican-American. It took me years to finally be able to say that with a sincere feeling of pride. Both of my parents were born in Mexico and moved here before they had a chance to attend college, so my entire life I’ve been exposed to both Mexican culture and American culture. Instead of seeing my multi-cultured world as unique and special, I saw it as a sort of disadvantage, but as time went on and I became more educated on the successes of Mexican-Americans, I had a newfound understanding and appreciation of the culture which consequentially influenced my future aspirations.

December 2008 marks the initial start to the devastating and gruesome cartel drug war in Mexico that has led to the deaths of over 80,000 people. In the midst of this war, violence has surged dramatically in Ciudad Juarez, Mexico, an area seen by many as a point of contention in the lucrative drug smuggling business that stems from Mexico and flows into the United States. As a result of the recent outbreak of violence, it has been difficult to accept the fact that my mother and sister cross the border every weekend from El Paso to Ciudad Juarez to go visit family knowing they are at risk of being taken hostage or even worse, getting killed by the cartel. My father has also experienced these life-threatening occurrences

We were at the border between Mexico and America. I had never been here before and I was anxious. There were so many police walking around. We were going to the place where my dad lived when he was younger. This has shaped me into the person I am today because I saw how hard it is to live over there. I met a lot of my relatives. The food over there was so much better.

When I got arrested it took place in my neighborhood. It was very scary for me because I haven’t done anything wrong. And the police officer was very rude and aggressive. He didn’t even read me my Miranda rights. But the situation was resolved once we got to the station, and they realized they had arrested the wrong person and they said they were very sorry. I on the other hand decided to sue them.

I am proud to say that I am Mexican/American because I have more opportunities when looking for a job for knowing how to speak both English and Spanish. Knowing that my parents both came from Mexico makes me a proud daughter because of all the hard work and dedication they put to get me to where I am today. Although it wasn’t easy for my parents to cross the border, I look up to them for bringing me into this world full of opportunities. My dad risked his life walking through the desert in order to cross the border to enter the United States all because he wanted give his kids a better future. My father wanted my siblings and I to be able to have a good education because he didn’t want us to go through the difficult moments he went through

Populations are contained within borders, whether they are physical fortifications or a concept of invisible territorial borders, in order to maintain a nation united and out of problems—is what most of the inhabitants idealize. The well-known border between Mexico and the United States has not only expanded but has also raised many doubts. Urban myths have misled many individuals to think positive about the extensive fence that separates two countries. One popular and recent myth that many people from United States feed off of is that Mexico sends problems, and by building a bigger walls will stop the flow of problems. I myself, am an immigrant from Guadalajara, Jalisco, a rich in culture state; nonetheless, I have lived three-fourths of my life in Modesto, California. I personally have been through the Mexican border several times.

The other day, I was sitting in my room doing my homework when I overheard my parents talking to my older sister. They were discussing about ICE, which stands for Immigration and Customs Enforcement. My sister was telling my parents what to do if the ICE ever came to our house. She told them that they did not have to answer the door unless the police show proof of a warrant signed by a judge. She informed them of their right to remain silent and their right to an attorney.

”Image in a self portrait generally communicates to the viewer information about the identity, character, environment, feelings and interests of the artist.” In the case if “Between the Borderline of Mexico and The United States” Frida Kahlo expresses her feeling that she holds towards hr alien environment, and her cultural identity. This will now be proven through analyzing the portrait to prove the above quote.

We started off with a bang. We started with me thinking of what to do how to do it and what were my ideas. Then, a little later we actually started it and not gonna lie, it was scary. I didn’t know that much about my family, yeah i've heard stories but they're stories. Later on we went home i didn’t tell my family anything just unsuspiciously getting all the information and I learned a lot yes. I learned about my names and why they're my names, I learned about my dad getting lost a lot, I learned about my mom moving here to america when she was 14 and how her life was before she moved and why she moved. I learned about my uncle going to jail for crossing the border illegally which is kinda funny. All those I learned but i couldn’t find anything

I woke up this morning feeling really excited, after all today is the national holiday, the independence of Mexico, and my family and I were planning on celebrating it at the local fair. Subsequently of waking up, I begun my usual routine, which consist on taking a shower, it was one unpleasant big surprise when I discover there was no hot water. I usually never check for the temperature of the water, and by consequence I ended up shivering like a “maraca” by the end of my shower. I felt like small needles where poking me all over my skin, and I could hear my non-stop teeth chattering. I do not know how people survive in the rural areas without electricity.

The one thing that I should always guard my life with was somehow lost, my passport. Of course it had to be me to lose my passport on our typical family vacation to Europe. It was more of a stress enhancer than a stress relief kind of trip. After traveling around Europe for weeks on end, I was exhausted and ready to go home and sleep in my cozy bed with my cat snuggled up by my face. I was packing up my bags in the London hotel room trying to think what I was forgetting, as I am normally very forgetful. I was confident that I had remembered everything, even though in the back of my mind I knew that was not possible. I stepped my foot into the street pretending that I was a fashion model in New York trying to catch a taxi cab. My family and I hopped into the eight passenger van, and started reminiscing on the positives and negatives of our once in a lifetime trip. Soon enough we arrive at the airport three hours before our flight departs, plenty of time to get a snack and watch the humongous planes takeoff and land. I step foot inside and instantly see millions of different cultures roaming around attempting to figure where to go out of the chaoticness of the airport. Then a lady, that looks as if she hates her job, strolls up to my family and I and asked, “May I see your passport.” So, I started rummaging through my bags trying to find the little blue book, that was somehow so important. I have practically turned my bags upside down desperately looking for it,