Personal Narrative: The Classic Immigration Story Of Myself

Welcome. A single word on the carpet by the door greets me whenever I come home. There had been times where that one word made my heart beat and cry with joy. But not now, for many things changed through the years. Now when I look at this carpet, I instead question back: ‘Do you really mean that?’

It was summer of 2010. My parents were still married and we went up to Wichita Falls, Wichita to go see my brother Chris who was in the Military on base working. We stayed there for a week. I still remember the car ride up there. We rented a van, we had tvs in the rented van, my sister Rylee, my other brother Garrett (he was in the military too), my mom Traci, and my dad Doug, and my brothers military bag it was like a person. I still remember I had to sit in the back with that bad it was so big. Garrett put the seatbelt around the bag like it was a person. The car trip was so long but it was all worth it in the end. It was in the middle of the week and we were out on the beach. My brother Chris and his pregnant wife Ashley had a boat the water

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.

I was always a precocious child, yet argumentative and rebellious. I did not want to accomplish anything following a pattern set for me. I wanted to forge my own way. This determination set me at odds with my mother, and has defined our relationship all these years. It has surely led me down my own irregular path in life, and placed me in position to be the family’s black sheep.

On a random Thursday morning in the middle of October, I became an orphan. I have always been independent and mature from a young age, but all that changed on a crisp day in November when I learned what it means to grow up. Something typically marked by a Bat Mitzvah or the acquisition of a driver’s license was, for me, marked by the arrest of my single mother.

With the settlement of first immagrants to America, this has been the phrase in which they preach. I seemed to those from an outside perspective of America, that this was the place to be. This was no exception for my grandfather. His valuable lessons of dedication, persistence and passion have shaped me into the person that I have become.

I am from a country with beautiful landscapes that has turned into a warzone country.

It is a popular belief that children are bound to the same path that their parents have been down. As a result, being the daughter of two Haitian parents, neither of whom have secondary education, and moved to the United States in the hope of a better life this was a belief placed on me. Throughout my high school career, I have faced obstacles both big and small. One barrier I faced was going into my junior year. Going into my junior year I noticed my dad was home a lot more than usual, but I never questioned it. After a couple of weeks, my mother sat me down and told me he lost his job. At first, when she told me this it didn’t seem like a problem to me. I just thought he would put in more applications get hired and things would turn back

I was born in a third-world country. Though my family and I came to the United States when I was 8 months old, there is no disputing the fact that I am an immigrant. By definition, this word “immigrant” only means a person who migrates to another country to live there permanently. However, there is an apparent stigma in this country marking those with such a title like myself. To be looked down upon as an immigrant in a country founded by immigrants either shows the inherent negative stereotypes forced on those from several regions around the world, or the widespread belief that nationalism here is weakening. Both statements are confusing and lacking rationale.

This is a very interesting story. I am glad that she got to experience how the real life for most of us is, and how sometimes we only work to pay rent and bills. I myself can relate to that with my family. We came here in 2006, and my as an immigrant my mom had to work in whatever she could find, just to be able to pay rent and give me food. This is the reason why I go to school, to better myself, and to be able to get a job that I enjoy doing, and that it will give me a good paycheck. Honestly I feel bad for many people because, it is very hard to live in this country while getting paid minimum wage, but this is why we have to sacrifice ourselves and go to school to become someone.

Throughout last generation, immigration has been vital for my family- my mother is an immigrant, and so are my paternal grandparents. Being Mexican immigrants in a land that does not accept you is hard; I’ve seen the struggles firsthand. Like my grandparents, my mother did not have many opportunities once she entered the United States. She came seeking to start a career and make a name for herself, yet ended up being an assistant manager at Wal-Mart. Nonetheless, she has worked hard alongside my father to provide the best for my brother and I. But I know if she was a white American without a Mexican accent,

On one sunny day, I was helping my mom doing chores when she pulled me over to talk to me about something important. I was confused why my mom would want to me about something important, but I listened to what she said and followed her. What she told me was what her life was like back in Vietnam. She did not have much of an education. Instead, she stayed home with her mom to sell Vietnamese yogurt every day for a living. Since I was born in America, I never thought of life was like for others in developing countries like Vietnam. Hearing from my mom's experience, it stuck with me. I learned the importance of being grateful for what I have since they are a lot of people who do not have what we have in America and it made me want to help those who are in need. I was also inspired to do whatever I

A man’s heart anxiously pounds within his chest, his fists closed, and teeth clenched. Droplets of sweat splash as they seemingly fall from his forehead. He tightens the grip of his baggage as he fixes in on the swift horizon, emerald eyes feverously searching for hope. Full to bursting with tears, he spots his copper lady from a distance. Her torch brilliantly alit in welcoming embrace.

It was late 1960’s and it was a huge deal for someone to leave their whole life , to abandon the house the individual lived in for so long. It’s just like starting your life all over again at a new place, in a new house, with new friends, with another language. It’s not easy to do that but sometimes that is required to do if you want to guarantee your family to have a better future. This is personal story of a person , but their name is going to stay confidential. Like I said it was the 1960’s and all everyone was talking about was how great America is. Many people immigrated from Bulgaria at that time so it wasn’t anything new. The individual came to US because they wanted to find new opportunities for a better life.

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