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My family is first generation immigrants from Iraq, life coming to America was very hard. When we first came we did not speak much english. The first thing that made it so hard for us was learning a new language then having to take our citizenship test not to long after. Some of the questions that I studied for I know many native born Americans who would know the answers. This country though gave me an oppurintity that I never had before. My dad was drafted into the gulf war and during that time Sadam Hussian would have anyone killed if they did not. So my family fled to Saudi Arabia after time in the refugee camp we came to America. I feel that my story of life is so different, but I know many of us (immigrants) can relate to parts of my experiences.
Living in between cultures is something that I have had to struggle with, for much of my life. As a second generation immigrant, I have found myself negotiating between two cultural identities. On one end I identify as an American, and on the other as a Latina who is Nicaraguan and Dominican. Throughout my life my identity has come under attack from both sides. I have been called too American by my immigrant family while also being called too Latina by peers and academia. As a first generation college student and second generation immigrant, I have faced the stressors of living in between cultures. I have received both acceptance and rejection, as well as experienced stress relating to my mother’s status in this country and my responsibility to help her navigate daily activities.
After reading The Book of the Unknown Americans, I realized how difficult immigrating to the United States can be. I am an immigrant also, so just reading the story makes me relate to many problems immigrants experience relocating to a different country. Immigrants often face many issues and difficulties, but for some it is all worth it, but for others there comes a point in time where they have to go back to their hometown. Alma and Arturo Rivera came to the United States to better their life, but also so that Maribel could attend a special education school. While Arturo had a job things had gone well for the family, but once Arturo lost the job and passed away the two of them had to go back because they felt that that was the best option for them. Reading this book made me realize how strong an individual has to be to leave their own country and relocate somewhere else not knowing if this will better your life or cause one to suffer.
Affected by my family, my background, and everything around me, I was born in a family who is the first generation to get here. My grandmother, and my parents, along with some other relatives, moved here in search of better opportunities, like those from other countries for the same idea. They started out fresh but had a hard time to get started, when I was little, I assumed it had to be somewhat easy, but for people who do not know English it is like starting from scratch, but they did well, they’ve made it.
Growing up as a first generation Eritrean-American, I did not have anyone to lead the way for me. I am breaking barriers for the Eritrean community. Most Eritreans, like my parents, left their country, family, and belongings during the war to come to America as refugees. My parents had to start over and because of that, I was able to understand their struggle and sacrifices. It was hard for me to assimilate to American culture while living at home with a culture very different while I was young. As the years went by, I learned balance and found a culture of my own between the two cultures. I was disparate from many of the children at school because my parents were not born here. People assumed I was an immigrant and did not speak English because
I have to introduce you to three individuals, not random individuals, but siblings - two brothers and a sister. They may seem just like any other people, but they have a secret that isn’t easily realized unless you know them. They belong here in the sense that they were born here, but their hearts belong to another land. They are the children of immigrants; the first generation to be born in America. It is a unique experience that to others may seem odd or exotic, but for these three is just as normal as learning to ride a bike.
“I am a first generation immigrant and a woman, but I don't really write about that because I feel like I'm a human being. There are universal human experiences.” (“Evelyn Rodriguez”). As a first generation woman myself, I can relate to the notion that I am more than my background. While there are universal experiences people go through, my cultural experience is something that sets me apart from others. I believe that it is essential for me to find the balance between assimilating into American culture while keeping my cultural identity.
Being a Hispanic have impacted all my entire life; I lived 15 years of my life in Mexico I love being there because most part of my family live in Nuevo Laredo, I was cursing my last months of 8th grade and one day my mom told me that she was thinking about send me here to the U.S to start learn English; since I’m a U.S citizen and I didn't know the language of my country, I accepted. The most hard prove was live without having my mom at my side, since I live with my aunt now; when the days passed here in the U.S I started to depressed myself because I missed so much my house and all my family, one day in the middle of the night I call my mom crying and I told her that I really want go back to Mexico, but she didn’t take into account my desire my mom just explained me that it will be the best for my future and with the time I will be thankful with her for don’t let me go back. My mom, and my grandmother are the ones who motivates me to be a better student. Actually I’m in dual enrollment and I have taken AP classes; sometimes is hard for me talk, read or write in another language that the one I was accustomed but, every time I fail I get up and persist until I’m able to do what I want.
My grandmother has a certain look in her eyes when something is troubling her: she stares off in a random direction with a wistful, slightly bemused expression on her face, as if she sees something the rest of us can’t see, knows something that we don’t know. It is in these moments, and these moments alone, that she seems distant from us, like a quiet observer watching from afar, her body present but her mind and heart in a place only she can visit. She never says it, but I know, and deep inside, I think they do as well. She wants to be a part of our world. She wants us to be a part of hers. But we don’t belong. Not anymore. Not my brothers—I don’t think they ever did. Maybe I did—once, a long time ago, but I can’t remember anymore. I love my grandmother. She knows that. I know she does, even if I’m never able to convey it adequately to her in words.
When my family and I got in the plane that would take us to the U.S., I was very excited. It was as if I had butterflies in my stomach. I was also nervous because I had heard of people that were turned away when they got to America because the government was not letting as many immigrants into the U.S as they had in the past. Therefore, my whole family was a little anxious. Two things could happen when we arrived at the Washington, D.C., airport. We could either come to the United States to chase after “the American dream”, or we could be turned away which meant that we would have to return to our country of origin.
Born in El Salvador, raised by a single mother (father passed away when I was four years of age) and three beautiful sister. I am the eleventh child, yes she had eleven children; eight guys and three girls. Eight out of the eleven (seven guys and one girl) came to this country at a fairly young age around their early twenties and most of them are in their late thirties and early forties with kids, jobs, etc… Anyways I came to this country seven years ago so by default “America sees me” as an immigrant. An immigrant who is trying his best to become successful, an immigrant that’s pursuing the American dream, an immigrant who became naturalized as an American citizen two years
At a young age, my teachers and parents taught me to believe that I could do and accomplish anything that I set my mind to. I grew up thinking that I was unstoppable and that the only limit to my achievements was the sky. However, during my second year in high school, I began to realize that I was not as unstoppable as I had thought. I began to experience the consequences of my parent’s decision of bringing me to the United States illegally. Among those consequences were, not being able to apply for a job, obtain a driver’s license or take advantage of the dual enrollment program at my high school, simply because I did not possess a social security number. I remember thinking that all of my hard work was in vain and that I was not going to
Since I am not of native decent my family has gone through the immigration process on both sides. My family tree dates back generations to Ireland and England. My father is mainly Irish, his Irish roots trace back to his grandparents. His family had remained in Ireland for centuries until later immigrating to the U.S. The history further than my great-grandparents is vague as my father’s family had lived in Ireland for generations before. Despite being predominately Irish my closest roots with immigration come from England. My grandfather on my mother’s side is a first-generation citizen and is the only immigrant I have known in my family. He often discusses his roots in England and what life was like adjusting to life in America. His stories provide a unique perspective of life in America, verse life in England where our family originates from.
My parents have always referred me to as a Mexican-American, simply because I was born in the US. The proper term to refer my kind is "Chicanos". I recall speaking with a teacher in middle school telling him that I was Mexican-American and would often tell me I was wrong because neither one of my parents is an actual American. I have been called Latina as well but have always been used to being called a Mexican-American. I have utilized my diverse life and perspectives and have contributed to my local community. My ability to speak two languages helps a great amount of people. I am translating nearly everyday whether it is to assist my mother, or to help translate at my jobs. At my recent job, I found myself working at a department near mine,
For many people like myself, I lean more and better from experience. Life is a great teacher although there may be some lessons that take time to learn. Life shapes who we are and who we become and certain states of affairs seem to guide us in a certain direction. Dealing with these certain events in my life has driven me to work harder and persevere. The immigrants often cannot do much but work in the fields and I was lucky to have been born in this country. I have the opportunity to get a higher paying job even starting at minimum wage. These people have been my driving force to use in life as a tool to further inform people but also as a reminder of where I have been and where I am going. All of this I have learned thanks to a good instructor:
At first, my very first experience in the United States is so bored, depressed, and hopeless. It was a new journey for me, I learn a language that I had never learned before, I get bullied just because I am the only one Asian who do not speak English. However, my life has become better when I realized that the “American Dream” is possible. Well, for me, the term “American Dream” is fitting for the one who attends at school, who has confidence and hard work. It might be a dream for my generation but not my parents. I saw my parents struggle to keep my brother and I fed. They worked more than two jobs, just to help us finish our education, paying our rent, and everything. I saw them suffer in tears, to sacrificed their future to let my brother and me to get a better education and opportunities to