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Personal Narrative: I Am An Immigrant

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I am a daughter of a refugee and an immigrant. My father left Ethiopia and walked across several countries finally coming to America. While my mother came after 15 years since the communist advance into South Vietnam. I come from a household of parents from two different continents.Their arrival america gave an unique atmosphere in the household. The aroma of home-cook Vietnamese food and the constant shift between English and Vietnamese was my life was at home. My parents would frequently share their stories of their upbringings and struggles and how life here is very different.
At home I did what I was told and tried not to complain It was not because I wanted to be a good child ,but I wanted to ease the troubles in my parents life. Many things that I ask for I hear is “no” I become very frustrated at times that I do not have what my friends have. Now, remembering how I acted before I am consumed with guilt. I knew my parents tried their best for me, but I was selfish and complained. I realize their hardships and sacrifices they made to make my life better.
By the time I started school, there was a disconnect with my peers. I could understand what was being said to me, but I could not communicate. I felt left out. As I grew older, I found a balance between the culture at home and the culture that I socialize myself with. There was another …show more content…

The look on their face seems surprised as if the answer is not enough. It is like there is a need to know where I am “really” from. Those several interactions made me look at myself, I did not felt like I was from somewhere else. In my social life I acted similar to my peers, but to others I am different. For the people who were surprised by my answer it did not matter how I acted, I looked foreign to them. When this happened I explained my life to them and the stories of my parents. However, I now give a firm answer that I am truly from

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