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Culture influence identity
Mass migration to usa 19th century
During the 19th century migration in america
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According to Broderick, Blewitt, (2015) there is no correct way to grief, everyone one deals with the loss of a loved one in their own ways. For example, recently my family has lost a member of our family, our beloved dog, Toby, died. Everyone in the family is handing Toby’s death differently, my mom and aunt and are looking at pictures of him and crying while my grandmother and I are trying to remember the good times we had, by swapping stories and experiences with him. This week I am working with a close-knit Italian-American family, which consists of Isabelle (wife/mother), Paul (oldest son), Sophia, and twins Lenore and Joseph. Recently this family has suffered the loss of Victor, the family patriarch, and Isabel's husband for 53 years.
I am not white, but I am not Mexican either. I am, however, a first generation Mexican American with parents from San Luis Potosi, Mexico. Perhaps I do not know what it is like to cross the border that refrains me from being Mexican, or the color of my skin that refrains me from being white, but my own personal experiences make me the Mexican American that I am today. Growing up I celebrated the Fourth of July with fireworks, and the Day of the Virgin of Guadalupe with matlachines.
United States is indeed a melting pot. As I mentioned on my paper, Christopher Columbus did discover the land. However before he did, Native Americans were already on the land. The reason I brought this up on my paper was to refer Native Americans as African Americans, Christopher Columbus as White people, and United Stated as Rock and Roll. Even though African Americans first discovered and created Rock and Roll, White people did made some modification to it, and later became the music we hear today.
Be who you are and don 't let anyone tell you otherwise. These are some words we 're hearing more and more everyday ever since the recent election. A lot of issues have come up ever since the election. People are literally scared because of what the future has to offer with the new elected president. That isn 't something that anyone should have to go through just because of they who are and what they identify as.
The American experience is not unfamiliar to me, I have been visiting America since I was a child and as a child I always wanted to move to America. My first visit here I fell in love with the culture specifically the freedom of expression. However the opportunity did not emerge for me to move to America legitimately and as promising young child, I did not want to damage my future by moving to a country illegally where I could not live to my full potential. I stayed in Jamaica and I completed my University education as a registered nurse and had become comfortable with my life in Jamaica. I started working the spring of 2013 and upon receival of my first paycheck, I was reminded that this is not the place I wanted to be.
Rarely have I studied a topic that flows from my ears to my brain to my tongue as easily as the Italian language. The Italian blood that runs through me is more than the genetics that gave me my dark hair and thick eyebrows. It is the work of the generation that traveled from Istria in the north and Sicilia in the south, meeting through friends in Chicago, and encouraging their Children to study hard and make a living for their future families. In time, that influence would be passed on to me; finding my grandfather’s meticulously-written electricity notes circa 1935—filled with drawings and words I did not yet understand—inspired me to take Italian at my own high school.
1: “Where are you from?” Just about everyone has been asked this prosaic question, for it is a common introductory question. However, my answer to this question is by far the least common. While some people reply with, “Oh I am from Lexington, Kentucky,” or reply that they are from another city in Kentucky, I reply with, “I am from Stavropol, Russia.” A lot of people are taken aback in awe when I tell them that I was adopted from Russia.
Children inherit traits from each of their parents—whether their eye color or their height— we all get something. I inherited the determination and wisdom they carry in addition to physical traits. My mother taught me to work hard, and that will change your view of the world. People will look down on you for looking different and being different; they will judge you due to your race and financial status, I remember being young and watching my mother work for hours on end, only taking short breaks throughout the day, and readily continuing her job when she got home. She did this because of stereotypes—particularly, the belief that immigrants are lazy.
“America is a melting pot.” This metaphor is often used to describe America’s strong diversity for there is hardly anyone in this country who is purely one nationality. I am a person who has ancestors from many locations. After interviewing some of my family and doing lots of researching, I have learned that I am very diverse. I am 1/8 Greek, Sioux, Irish, French-Canadian and Hungarian; 1/16 Croatian and Slovakian; and 1/4 Italian.
I am not American. Yes, I was born here, and yes, I was raised here, but I am not American. My first language was Spanish and I spent my days after school watching Spanish cartoons. Physically, I was in America, but my heart and mind were always in my Spanish heritage. I remember coming into school with my last-night’s-dinner-leftovers lunch every day.
I was born on February 14, 1993 in the city of La Vega, Dominican Republic and came to New York at the age of 10. The fact that my first language is Spanish placed me at a disadvantage from the minute I stepped a foot in the United States since even at the airport I was not able to communicate with the agent. My biggest struggle was school. I had a bilingual teacher, but the class was taught in English only and most of my classmates only spoke English.
Although I often get confused for different ethnicities/races than the one bestowed upon me at birth, due to my relatively ambiguous features, I know that I am an authentic pure Mexican girl and that no one can change that aspect otherwise. With having two pure Mexican parents, it is not very difficult for me to find out that I too was of Mexican descent. Spanish was my first language when I was growing up, and up till this day I still only speak Spanish in my household when it comes to discussing any sort of topic with my parents; when it comes to my siblings though, I do tend to speak more English than Spanish to them since the younger ones tend to understand it more than Spanish. As I was growing up, the notion of being of Latino/a descent
A year ago today I had my eyes set on attending an university in the UK. My immediate family was planning to move to Italy after I graduated and to stay there for roughly three years. All while the maternal side of my family was already in Croatia. It seemed to me that for once in a long time, the majority of my loved ones and I would be on the same continent for a couple years. As winter faded away and spring thankfully arrived with the news of receiving an offer from a british University, I buckled down and started self studying for the AP exams I needed to receive a five on; in order to meet their offer requirements.
It is not every day that you are able to travel back in time and live in an era well before your years. However, this so happened to me as I crossed the railroad tracks on my way to the college. Based on the architecture, sculpture, and the arts, I immediately knew that I was in the Italian Renaissance. The Gothic style is unlike anything I have ever seen before.
The world is filled with people, and like snowflakes, each person is not the same as another. Each person identifies with different aspects of their lives to create their own personal identities. I personally identify with my Italian side of my family to help form who I am today. I have found myself connecting with this side more so than the other parts of my identity. It affects how I live my life by becoming the center to the culture surrounding me.