I never knew my dad was illegally in the United States until he was arrested by U.S Immigration and Customs Enforcement. Everything happened so fast, and before I knew it my whole life was changing. One day I was having a pizza date with my dad, and a few days later I was in the car on a 3 hour drive to the Tacoma Northwest Detention Center to say goodbye to him as he awaited his deportation to Mexico. My father's deportation has been the hardest thing I have ever had to go through. It has brought on emotional hardships and financial struggles, which, has brought on challenges regarding my education. My father is now living in a small rural town in Mexico called Sandoval, Chihuahua (Riva Palacio) with a population of around 150 people. He doesn’t have phone service or internet access where he lives so communication is nearly impossible. Not being able to see or even hear from …show more content…
My mom is a food service worker and my dad was a christmas tree farmer. Although we never had a lot of money, we made things work. We never went on any vacations and I wasn’t able to play sports because they cost too much, but that was okay because we were together and happy. Now that my dad is no longer here to support us, we have been struggling. The mortgage is always behind, something always seems to be shut off in our house as a result of not being able to pay the bills, and the pantry isn’t as full as it used to be. Financial issues has also been affecting my education. As I’m applying to colleges, I find myself limited in the number of schools I can apply to because not all colleges have fee waivers I can’t afford to pay several fees to apply to as many colleges as I’d would like to. I’ve also had hesitation in going to college just because of the cost of it. My goal in life is to become a doctor, which, normally takes around eight years. Eight years of college is not cheap, and the idea of having to pay thousands of dollars has scared
Hello reader, I’m about to tell you a story of some of my life. I am not normally one to volunteer details about myself, which I’ll remain somewhat reserved or completely leave some events out of this autobiography. Nonetheless, I believe I can still make my story interesting for the reader. I was born 1979, in Tampa, Florida; which, is also the same day my biological father decided to leave my mother and I. My mother isn’t a native Floridian, but had moved there with her family when she was still an infant, and had spent most of her life growing up in Florida. Needless to say, my father leaving was not an exciting time for my mother and I. Although she was employed Jimmy Cater was president and had taken the nation into
There were three lessons that my immigrant parents ingrained in their first-generation children: Work hard, never give up, and most importantly, give back. Among other life lessons they taught us, these three were the basis for everything. It would be the basis that would and will define me as a person.
I came to US during my 8th grade and that was a life changing moment in my life. It was first time traveling aboard and that also not for a trip but for to permanent settlement. I was nervous my whole time been in the plane that how I will cope up with new environment and with bunch of English speakers. I got more. When it came pilot call for, that it's time to land on the Detroit Airport, tighten your seatbelts and be relax. As soon as the plane landed on American soil, I knew that this was the place where I’d to start a new life. Even though I knew America is the “Land of Opportunity”, everything here seemed so strange to me, the streets, the language and the people that was my first time traveling abroad.
“Mom, will I ever be treated as a regular person? When will I be like the others without people look at me in a strange way and make fun of me, when mom? When?” Those were the questions I did to my mom almost every day after getting home from school. Fourteen years ago that my parents brought me to this country offering a better life with better opportunities than where I was born. I was seven years old when came to the United States, but I still remember the happiness I felt when I first step in this country. Throughout the years, I have realize that not everything is easy and simple as I imagined. My parents worked in the fields because of the lack of a social security and not knowing how to speak English. Many Americans do not know how hard it is the life of an immigrant, they should have a consideration for us and not just blame us for the deviance of the United States.
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.
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.
Throughout my entire life I have heard the word “immigrant” countless times, inmy childhood, in my middle school days, and especially nowadays with the controversial topic taking over social media. I’ve been labelled with this word or image ever since my birth, and yet I still don’t exactly know how I should feel about that.
At a young age I departed from Mexico leaving all my friends, memories, and my father behind. Even though my father did not accompany us to the U.S. I hold no grudges or any type of negative thoughts because having heard both sides to why he stayed and why we left I understood that it was for the better. While he was growing career wise my family needed a change that would’ve been selfish to include him. This
I am an immigrant, originating from Ukraine. I moved here three years ago to take advantage of the “land of the free”. I had heard of the conscription under Russian imperial dictators, such as Tzar Nicolas, and Soviet despots, like Stalin. Fourcing an individual to perform a service, regardless of the cause, seems to be slavery to me. When I found that men in America must register for the draft, in my eyes, “the land of the free” became slightly less free. It is abhorrent that men may be required to enlist in the military, and equally so for women and therefore should not be tied to feredal grants.
Looking back to the past, before I was born, I never really knew where my ancestors came from or why they even came here in the first place. It was never made a big deal in my family to talk about our history and the reasons why they came to American. So, I decided to do a little research and find out a little bit about myself, my culture, and my communication styles. I asked for a little bit of help from my grandmothers from each side of my family. I got an abundance of information that opened my eyes to a new past that I didn’t even know about.
As the child of Mexican immigrants, I am always encouraged to work to the best of my ability because of the sacrifices and struggles my family went through to get where we are today. Too young to remember, I am constantly reminded of the difficulties my family experienced as they attempted to rebuild their lives in a new country with nothing but their clothes on their backs and the few cash they had in their pockets. The place we called home was a shabby, old apartment in a neighborhood where the crime rate seemed as if it doubled in a matter of seconds. At a point in our lives my family begged for pennies to afford medicine from gas stations, and even the dollar store when we fell ill. It was never that we were out of money, but we were just financially unstable. We had a roof over our heads, food on our table, clothes, and even a family car, but my father’s income was not always enough to support the life of a growing family and on top of that, enough to invest in my family’s future.
Today, I witnessed a young woman with her little daughter dropped multiple hundred bills in the parking lot prior to getting in her car. An associate saw the woman dropped her money and tried to get her attention, but was successful, so he puts the money in his pocket. I instantly approached the woman and briefly told her what I just witnessed. She asked me to go back to the store with her to vouch for her to the store manager. I agreed. Once we informed the store manager and confronted the associate who put the money inside his pocket instead of reporting it to security or his manger. She was able to procure her money back. Then, she told me I was a life saver. The woman explained to me she just got laid and really needed the money to support
As I have blossomed into the individual I am today I have developed a significantly different outlook from most of my peers. My mother migrated from Colombia to the United States because she wanted to create a better life for my older brother and me. Her journey inspires me and it a journey which many individuals with Latino backgrounds have to undergo to have the polity to give their children education possibilities. The sacrifice that my mother and those like her have bared have revealed to me the importance of what it means to work hard. As a family of immigrants I have developed an appreciation for those close to me. Living in the United States I see my grandparents and all of my siblings every two years, I understand what it is too mean
Un inmigrante siempre será un inmigrante.” (West Side Story) Once an immigrant, always an immigrant. Sixteen years ago my parents made an unthinkable decision. Leaving behind their jobs, families, and everything they knew to pursue life in an unfamiliar country; the American Dream. So, one fateful morning my mother said her goodbyes boarded a plane with me in her arms at barely a year old. My dad had arrived earlier, flying from Argentina to New York on his own. I was too young to fully comprehend the struggle it was to assimilate in a country where they did not speak the language. Once I got older, I heard stories of their experiences and began to understand first-hand what it meant to be an immigrant in America.
I think I am talking to the right person. I came to U.S in 1995 March. Because that was my first journey my cousin looked for someone I can travel with and found a person he knew flying to U.S in that same day. I think I travel with you from Trivandrum to Bombay and then from Bombay to JFK, someone was also going to Canada with you on that flight. I am not sure it’s you.