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Challenge Essay Moving into The United States that has a different language has been the biggest obstacle that I have ever faced, especially with the fact that there was a time where I didn’t understand a single word of that language called English. This was a big obstacle in my life since I was raised in Mexico where the prime language, there is Spanish and that was the only language I knew back then, it was until the day had come where my family and I had to move into the United States due to the violence that has been happening in Mexico. I consider those times the most difficult ones of my whole life because I had to work triple than what I normally did in school in order for me to learn a huge complex language.
Upon meeting me, not many people know that I am a first generation American. However, they are usually interested in the orgin of my last name. I am in fact Ukranian. Both my parents and my older sister were born in Ukraine. They immigrated to America in 1992 because of religious persecution that they were facing.
When I arrived in the U.S at age 12 ½ it was a huge adjustment for me as I did not speak English. I was suddenly living with a family and not in the orphanage that I grew up in. it was hard for me to leave my orphanage in China I had lived there my whole life and thought of the orphanage as my home. After being adopted and now living in America I have so many opportunities I did not have in China.
I can remember it like it was yesterday. My parents left me when I was fifteen years old to go to America. I thought to myself for one year, they left me here to starve, live, and die alone in eastern Europe. When I was sixteen years old I got ready to move to America and start a new life.
Growing up in an immigrant household in America, was difficult. I didn’t live, I learned to adapt. I learned to adapt to the fact that I did not look like any of my peers, so I changed. Adapted to the fact that my hair texture would never be like any of my peers, so I changed. Adapted to the fact that I was not as financially well off as my peers, so I changed.
My identity has always felt inextricably linked to what Miami is. A city that is teeming with immigrants, a city with dreams stacked and slopped atop each other, and a city that is living proof of the failed American dream. I say so because of my early observation that generation after generation of immigrants often seemed to stay trapped in dead end jobs; I saw this within my own family – within my grandmother, my aunts and uncles, and even my cousins. Here it was even within my own family tree the deep implicit message that there was no way out of our socioeconomic level. When I made it into an Ivy League college, it was a message that was slowly re-enforced by the fact that my demographic was the most represented in the custodial staff rather than within my own classmates.
I used to have this grudges in my heart when everything go hard that would made me wanted to blame my parent. But I can’t because I was not raise to think that way. When I come to America, I was eleven years old and no one asked me if I wanted to come it just happen in a second. I was in a cold place with extended family that I never met before and that one person who raise me and made me feel secure was still back in the country. I had to lived months without her and next thing you know I adapted and convince myself they are doing this because the wanted the best for me.
On my father’s first day in America, he was shoved into a compact 1-person apartment along with two other refugees and was merely granted $19 a week to accommodate for basic expenses, including food and transportation. Despite such desperate circumstances, he maintained an optimistic outlook, and while hard times were ahead, my father knew that new opportunities were also awaiting him in the land where the American Dream thrives. My father initially left Vietnam as a last desperate hope to escape Vietnam’s strict communist government, where a future of military service was inevitable for young boys, who came from families of lower social statuses. As an orphan, my father fell victim to poverty and suffered from food insecurity and insufficient
January 11, 2013, I wake up to yelling, prayers, and crying. I walked into the kitchen where all the noises were coming from and I found my mother on the floor crying, talking on the phone with my godmother. My father was there by her side, trying hard not to cry while supporting his wife. I didn’t know what was happening, this was the first time I’ve seen my mom so vulnerable and broken. My parents didn’t tell me anything other than my grandmother was in critical condition at the hospital, but with god's help she would overcome this hard time.
Coming to America with my parents when I was about 11 years old was a new adventure for me. There were a lot of changes that needed to be made and experiencing new things. I would have to make some adjustment and getting used to the American culture and learning the language they speak. My parents had made a big sacrifice coming to America. Living their home country just so my siblings and I could get a better education and better life.
I woke up suddenly; I felt as if I really was at the mercy of howling gale and waves of surf and storm. My face was wet from sweat as if I was splashed by hundreds upon hundreds of gallons of water. I was dizzy and my head was in extreme pain as my bed felt like a rocking boat. I could have sworn I was hearing waves and I could have sworn that there was a distinctive aroma of salt water filling my room. However, as I pulled my head up from the comfort of my pillow, there was nothing.
As an American, I enjoy many freedoms that people from other countries don’t. That may not seem fair, and it really isn’t, but I am grateful that I have these freedoms. I have the freedom of life. I don’t have to worry every day that I am going to die. I don’t live in a place where I am under attack.
When I came to America, I had to go through much struggle. First and the most important was that I did not know how to speak English. Apart from this I was very shy, so I didn’t communicate with people frequently. Growing up in America and being a son of two Indian parents, I never felt truly American or Indian. I spoke Punjabi at home, but was educated in English so I had difficulty managing two languages.
The American Dream is known as succeeding in life by working hard and earning your own future, many people believe the American Dream has died and others see the American Dream transforming over time. Bob Marley says in his song, “Zion Train”, “Don’t gain the world and lose your soul, wisdom is better than silver or gold”. I believe that the American Dream has made our society very materialistic, finding shortcuts to the top, wanting more and more, and forgetting the important things in life. I still believe in the original American Dream of working hard, succeeding in life, but staying humble because that’s how I was raised.
As a teenager moving to a new country with a different culture, different language, and being thousands of miles away from everyone I grew up with was not an easy change, however, that was precisely what I did in January of 2013 when I came to the United States with my father. My whole world changed since, and shaped my way of thinking. From learning English, adjusting to a new culture, experiencing my first snow and finding my way in my new country, my life has been an exciting adventure. My parents brought me to America almost 5 years ago to have a better life, and to get a better education.
