Personal Narrative: Where Are You From?

Where are you from? It is a simple question yet; it is difficult to answer as an immigrant who has lived in multiple places. I was born in Lagos, Nigeria. A few years after my birth, my dad's job required my family to move to the United States. My family first "settled" down in Walnut Creek, California; however, less than a year later, we moved down to Houston where just like in California, we lived for less than a year before being catapulted to the beautiful yet cold country to the north of the border: Canada. After living in so many places and being exposed to many different societies, I never found a culture that I fully identified with. Instead, I now identify as not only a first generation Nigerian immigrant but also as a global citizen.

Every paper, no matter how well written needs to be revised and edited as time goes on. In some ways, life is similar. We all go through changes that influence us and shape the direction we are headed. Some of these changes come from our own prerogative while others are inspired by friends and family members. I know that my worldview has gone through this revision process. Even looking back to freshman year I had many of the same ideals, same focuses on values and hard work, but over time they have come to manifest themselves in different ways. For instance, I am much more willing to share my beliefs and opinions on controversial issues. This developed as I came to realize my ideas are worth arguing for and I gained a knowledge of

Whenever I am asked to describe where I grew up, I always find this difficult for me to answer. Simply because, I have lived in five different locations, spanning three different continents, all before the age of seventeen. As a result of growing up in a military-oriented lifestyle, the concept of constantly moving around was nothing new to me. Rather than view it as a shortcoming, I grew fond of the idea of moving to somewhere new—to a location where I have yet to explore and integrate myself into. Thus, due to my exposure to a multitude of cultures and individuals from all walks of life, this has affected how I move through the world’s space. In this paper, I will be discussing how the following concepts of my subject position: my ethnicity, culture, and identity as child of a retired U.S. Airman reflect Gloria Anzaldúa’s discussion of la mestiza.

On 06/19/17, a t12:00pm, I Deputy Warden N. Christian was dispatched to 3251 Miriam Drive South on an injury-possible dangerous or vicious dog. I arrived at the location and was advised by The Columbus Division of Police (CPD) that the victim is being transported to Mount Carmel West Hospital (793 W State St) for her injuries and dog owner resides at the above location. I exited my vehicle and approached the dog owner. I spoke to dog owner Alex Kriglowitz and his wife. I asked Mr. Kriglowitz what transpired. He explained he was mowing his lawn and opened the side fence to mow the side yard. His dog was in the backyard. Mr. Kriglowitz completed mowing and forgot to close the gate. Mr. Kriglowtiz went inside the house and the next thing

On the other hand, I remember the many sacrifices my parents have done for me to be where I am today, and I try to come up with any form to pay them back, but it is simply impossible. Nevertheless, as long as I live, I will try to do just that: try to pay them back. Being an immigrant has allowed me to become more open about several aspects about the world. I can understand differences among our society and I feel a more genuine interest for other people and their background. Being an immigrant has allowed me to find humbleness and appreciate every single thing I possess. I know I am fortunate to be getting an education, to have clothes, food, roof over my head, safety, and inner peace, what else could I ask for? The rest is on me. It is why that I do not wake up daily without taking life for my good

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

My “outside” cultural influences I have: America is one of the most ethnically diverse countries in the world culturally. We have German-Americans speaking German, Filipino-Americans speaking Tagalog, Irish-Americans speaking Irish, Scandinavian-Americans speaking Norwegian, Swedish, Danish, etc., Welsh-Americans speaking Welsh, Japanese-Americans speaking Japanese, Iraqi-Americans speaking Arabian, Mexican-Americans speaking Spanish, and all Americans united in the common goal to create the best possible nation in accordance with our Constitution.

Life is like a puzzle. Everyone wants to find their place and feel like they are “at home.” Sometimes that can be a bit challenging if someone is different. In “Where Are You From” , the author deals with going “back home” to South Korea and finding out that because she was in America for so long, she no longer fits in or has a place(Park 357). I can relate. My parents are not together and because I live with my mom, it was my duty to visit my father during Christmases and summers. I learned that even among family, it is possible to feel like the odd one out.

My heart is racing, my palms are sweaty, my head is spinning, as I prepare myself to go into my least favorite place in the whole world; Chemistry class. I find myself sighing as I go to my seat, get out my book, and prepare to try to understand any word my teacher spits out at me. As I look up from my books and binders, I see the goofy, crazy, curly haired, Ms.Moser staring up at me like she has just seen something unworldly crash into my school and land right in my seat. She hands me a paper facedown, and I wish I did not exist for that few select fifteen minutes. As I flip my paper around, I see the dreaded words, F I P Q U I Z. For the next fifteen minutes of sitting in my seat racking my brain for some sliver of an answer for the questions

My American culture is special Because, I like to compete in fishing, and I have done really good.

Coming to America was not easy for my parents, especially considering the fact that I, less than a year old, was with them. We first lived in Michigan for two years and then moved to sunny California into a one-bedroom apartment in Torrance. I grew up as a happy, carefree kid, oblivious to my parent’s

Recently I took a trip to Nashville, and YES it was so much fun, I learned a lot about my business, met some of my AWESOME business partners, but most of all I got back my Country Roots !

When asked ‘where are you from?’, as I often am due to my last name, I was once at a loss for words. My birth certificate would argue Ile Ife, Nigeria. Years spent in Portland, Decatur, and Fairburn give them all claims as a possible hometown. Fortunately, last year I found my answer. However, it wasn’t a city or even a place. I was “at home” when I helped someone in dire need of my help. The smile on a face who just received their first and possibly only meal for the Thanksgiving season. Eyes lighting up upon finally receiving an audience to listen to their stories.

“Where are you from?” has always been a difficult question for me to answer when participating in ice breaker activities at schools or camps, and my responses can sometimes be confusing and unclear. Over the years it has changed from “I am from” to “I live in” to “Um I’m not really from somewhere.” People carry their hometown as a part of their identity and believe it makes them who they are. My life has been enriched by my family’s decision to move around to follow my mom’s career. It has taught me many lessons and given me a greater appreciation for what matters most in my life.

My ethnicity is Hispanic and white. My mother was raised in a big Irish family while my father was raised with proud Mexican traditions. Growing up with parents coming from completely different cultures was definitely interesting maybe even confusing at times. However, it has made me appreciate two completely different cultures that represent me