Who I Am I

As a first-generation American I’ve had to face certain challenges that people from non-immigrant families wouldn’t have to face. The most obvious challenge is subtle racism. I’ve had people, speaking directly to me, imitate the way other Indian people speak, make racist jokes (some people think racist jokes are validated if they’re speaking to someone from the race in question), justifying themselves by telling me things like “but you’re not like that.” I come from people who are “like that.” I may be an American but that doesn’t mean anyone can make comments about my family and where they come from. Another such challenge is that my parents often can’t help me navigate American life. But their experiences, the difficulties I’ve seen them face in their lives, and the values they’ve picked up and passed down to me have shaped how I approach life’s problems. Seeing their struggles to create a good life for our family in the US has taught me the importance of education, hard work, risk-taking, and optimism.

My mother’s family is relatively new to America, early 20th century, and had migrated here from Bohemia (one of the Czech lands) after many political changes were occurring in Europe; which, eventually lead to the Great War (World War I). In their exodus from Europe all of their wealth was left behind and they only brought to America what they could carry. After arriving to the United States of America my ancestors immediately became successful with ambition and entrepreneurship. No one in my family stands idly by, nor do any of us stand around waiting for welfare. We are all very educated and successful and we have no tolerance for laziness and whining. My stepfather’s family is also from a highly successful and educated background; however, his family were in America since the Crowne. His family is linked to Thomas Jefferson, via marriage, and has had involvement with many of America’s great moment in history, such as, his families lumber company provided the wood for the first five frigates commissioned by Jefferson during the Barbary War. My biological father too has an in-depth history here in America. His family mostly were military officers in many of the countries early wars; i.e., French Indian Wars, Revolutionary War, Civil War, Spanish-American War, etc. Overall, I have quite an extensive

Growing up as a young African American girl in Philadelphia was not always easy, however, having a strong family structure, old fashion southern culture, and beliefs have molded me into the strong women that I am today. Now that I am a mother, following my family’s culture and beliefs are not always the easiest thing to do. Times has changed and I feel like I am forced to conform to the everyday social norms of America, which makes me feel impuissance. Yes, growing up was not easy, but my family and youth kept me in the dark when it came to how society treats individuals of darker complexion, what to expect once I left the confines of my family and neighborhood, and how to befriend or interact with individuals of other racial groups. All of the things that I listed were things that I had to learn through trial and error, which makes life a little harder than it already is.

My father is from Yugoslavia. I have very early memories in childhood of knowing that I was a first generation American. I am Croatian and this culture is huge on family. I remember being constantly at family functions that seldom involved people outside of the family and the neighbors (on the block we lived). I actually believed that all of my neighbors were family members and all were Croatian. I didn’t realize that the neighbors or other people had different nationality and/or backgrounds until I was a pre-teen. My neighborhood (the block) was diverse for the Southside of Chicago in 1960’s and 1970’s. I was exposed to Lebanese, Jordanian, Hispanic, German, Irish, and Korean culture from the time I was a small child but I didn’t know that the culture was different from being Croatian; I felt that it was the norm. I didn’t realize the difference until I entered high school.

In 1995, my family left Thailand as refugees and came to the United States. My Parents and I did not know how to speak English upon arrival, which limited our self-reliance and independence. Luckily, my older sister and her husband had been part of the first waves of Hmong immigrants to come to the United States and they had already acclimated to American’s culture. For the first couple of years, my brother-in-law acted as a translator and as my family’s personal guide to all things American. Of course, my brother-in-law wasn’t fluent in English, but instead, spoke a broken version of English which was adequate for taking us to the grocery stores and enough to teach us some of the cultural norms. This made the transition from the jungles of

I grew up in a somewhat typical middle to upper middle-class American family in the South. To say I was privileged would be accurate, although, there’s far more to the story than meets the eye. My father is the son of a Jewish father and mother. His father, Nathan Lamm was born in Russia, which is now Poland. His mother, Margaret Roth Lamm was of Jewish Austrian-Hungarian descent, and was born in the United States. Both are now deceased, but lived long lives of 87 and 92 years. My mother is the daughter of an Italian-born immigrant Anthony Michael Santora, who was born in Italy in 1902 and immigrated with his family to the United States when he was 12-years of age. He had few memories of Italy and the language after spending most of

We were finally financially stable. Still, my parents faced much discrimination as immigrants. After the tragic incident of 9/11, my parents were perceived as outsiders since they were Middle Eastern. The community we lived in placed a negative connation on being Egyptian. Upon entering Middle School, I did not know how truly people did not see me as an American because my parents were from Egypt. I spent restless nights thinking about the way the other students in school mocked me, and I pleaded my father to help me transfer. However, my father sat me down and told me “People will come to understand who you are, just smile and everything will be okay”. Little did I know that my father’s advice would impact every part of my transition into

September 28th, 2004 came by all too quickly. That is the day I landed in the United States of America at SeaTac airport. I remember growing up in Kenya and my dad used to call me and my sisters “American ladies”. He would constantly say that if he doesn't get a chance to come here he would make sure that my sisters and I would come here for a more suitable education. Growing up in Seattle life never came easy for me unlike my sisters. I barely knew how to speak English let alone my own language, Kiswahili. Juggling between the American and the Kenyan accent was a tedious task. furthermore, not being able to communicate with others turned me into an awfully reserved individual and practically branded me an outcast. Likewise, at home my supposed “safe place” also felt like I was in isolation from the other members of my family. At the moment I wasn’t at the top of my parents priority list but to some extent my parents feared for how I would be able to assimilate in the culture without being able to speak the language. Two months after our arrival I was enrolled to John Stanford Elementary, an alternative school, specifically to learn English. Going to an alternative

But with my family and especially one that moved to another country and had their own hardships, my parents somehow surpassed everyone. I almost felt like the Caucasian person who tried to be ethic. This wasn’t the case for long as my parents made sure that the little we have is no difference and should not get in the way of judgement. The places that we venture out was not the best looking nor the safest but that should not be an issue. My parents have no fright when traveling in sketchy locations and finding a house to enter that all of a sudden turn to a restaurant in the dining room. My parents wanted me to experience that all though things can seem off putting, that it’s not what it seems and there can beauty in

My parents came to the United States 19 years ago with two young kids in their arms. While neither possessed a high school diploma and both spoke non-fluent English, they had the determination to work more than 50 hours a week to make ends meet. In a way, I believe that I have inherited their determination in order to achieve my goals in the face of adversity. While I was growing up as an Asian-American student some of the struggles I faced were a language barrier and sometimes even discrimination. Later, in my academic career as a first-generation college student, I had fears of the unknown and the unfamiliar.

My family background is Latino and I come from a family that struggles at times, but is always willing to work their butts off just to provide things for myself and also for my siblings . My uncles who I consider my parents have always been there for me and my two older sisters, he took us in when my mother passed away giving birth to my little sister, after she gave birth to my little sister, she disappeared from our lives since her dad took her, but that’s life and i’m sure one day we will meet. My life is kinda depressing, but really I don’t take it like that, as of right now I’m happy and my life’s pretty much amazing, I’m getting good grades and I’m really focused on my school and nothing is distracting me and I’m set on the right way of life and nothing will stop me from

As the son of immigrant parents, I have always wanted to assimilate into American culture. My parents expected me to excel in everything I do, especially in academics. When report cards came at the end of the quarter, I would be ashamed when my parents saw my grades. Every time I got a B, I could see the disappointment on their faces. I would lock myself in my room and think about how much easier my life would be if I was not Asian. I had always hoped that my parents would congratulate me if I completed something, or showed affection when I needed it. My parent’s merciless emphasis on academic achievement made me submissive to their authority.

In the beginning of our journey my parents often reflected on how they left their high status jobs and were now doing “sale boulot”, or dirty jobs. In other words jobs, that they felt they should not be doing. Coming to America, we were filled with so many great expectations. They were hoping to find good jobs and live comfortably. Sadly that was not the reality. Like many immigrants with foreign diplomas, my parents` diplomas were disregarded when they arrived. Even when they went back to school and earned American degrees, they found that their age, accent, and skin color became obstacles.Although they qualified for the jobs, they were never called back after interviews. They were often seen as not american enough.  My mom later resorted to becoming a nurse and my dad became a translator for a non profit organization. My parents never

I have grown up in an American, Caucasian, middle-class family of five. My parents have been married for 29 years and have two daughters and a son. My sister is 27, my brother is 25, and I am 20. My family has had many great experiences, but has also faced various challenges. Throughout our different experiences, our family dynamic has developed.

The question “who am I”? Can have a lot of individuals thinking about themselves, including myself because one might not know where to start. It is a very broad question, but having done the Strengths Finder 2.0 assessment, I realized more in depth what kind of person I really am based on my top 5 strengths. Who I am as a learner, who I am in my career and who I am as a person of faith lead me to answering the question above and understanding more of myself within.