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Coming to america cultures
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Several individuals from different ethnicities, races, and citizenships, compose a society. The United Sates allow us to have a close interaction with numerous individuals from diverse backgrounds. In my own case I have been able to interact with many incredible individuals from all over the world who come from extremely different backgrounds. I am a proud Mexican who cherishes respect towards diversity. Coming from a very suffered country I am able to understand not only what does it means to feel proud to be a Latino, but also I can feel acquainted with the pain and struggle that our community has to face every day.
Despite the fact that I was born in the U.S., my native language is Spanish, I was raised in Mexico, and spent half of my life studying in Tijuana. It wasn’t until the sixth grade that I decide to switch to an all English-speaking school in San Diego. I’ve since crossed the San Ysidro border every day, going the extra mile to wake up earlier, and to getting to home later. I in no way regret my decision to leave my friends, and my comfort zone, even if it might seem puzzling to many including my family. But this wasn’t always the case.
The new American hero (Just a quick look) Can you see the handsome young man sitting by my side, driving through the forest, behind the wheel of his decadent truck? Yes. I would trust him with my life (sip of vodka).
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.
My parents were both undocumented immigrants from small villages in Mexico, and the experiences that are fundamental to me are those from my childhood, which I experienced from the perspective of a child of undocumented immigrants. I remember the fear that I felt whenever I saw strangers, because I strongly believed that each time a stranger was near my parents would somehow be sent away. I longed to communicate, but it felt as though I was burdened with a greater awareness of who I was and what situation I was born into. I feared that once I spoke, I would be labeled an outsider. My first language was Spanish, and I vividly recall running to my neighbors and having a conversation only speaking gibberish in the hopes of communicating my thoughts
I grew up in a single-parent home not knowing where I would get my next meal. At eight years of age, my family left Mexico and immigrated to Southern California where I attended grade school and middle
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.
As a child of immigrant parents, my formative years in elementary and middle school were shaped by two important factors: the environment in which I lived and my background. My parents worked hard to settle into a new life in a foreign country to provide better opportunities for our family. This meant that we had to be flexible about where we lived due to relocating for jobs, and fluid about our ideas of culture. I recall the daunting nature of moving to a new city, twice, as a child. The prospect of leaving everything that was familiar to me and forming new friendships in an unfamiliar environment was a challenge.
It was the spring of 2012 when my plane landed on JFK Airport in New York, USA. The chilly breeze of April whispered “Welcome to America” into my ears. The moment that I felt my feet were not touching the ground of the Philippines anymore, made me think of what’s ahead of me: Will things be a lot better transitioning from my country to another? Am I going to be able to fit in? Where do i see myself here 5 years from now?
The American Dream My American Dream will come true because it is so easy to achieve. You want to know about it? Its really interesting and you probably can achieve it to. Its self comfort and happiness with yourself.
During their stay with us, I gained an appreciation for my Mexican heritage. My cousins came the states to work and although they were qualified as civil engineers, they worked long hours as busboys at a local restaurant. They showed me the meaning of hard work and what it meant to have pride in my heritage. My feelings towards the racial stereotypes that I had encountered changed and I became motivated to prove my worth and overcome the lack of acceptance from my peers. Freshman year started and I set out to improve my grades.
As the music began to play, I felt the vibrations cutting through my lungs. The lights shot with electricity into the air. Slowly the stars arise from the stage and I felt every cell in my body freeze. Everything froze. The lights.
Coming from a low income family, living in a small town in India, I learned early on about struggling and surviving those struggles. I watched my parents working day and night to provide for electricity, pay for our monthly school fees so my sister and I can have a better education, and for the future they wished upon for their children. To further enhance this vision, my father decided for the family and I to immigrate to the US. Everything was different in the sense that I changed schools, learned a new language, had to make new friends, and learned the different culture. I had to adapt to a whole new world, which was a little difficult at 6 years old
Growing up in America and having a parent from another country comes with many perks and stories. In case you haven't read the title or wondering which parent is from another country; My father is from a small island in Central America named Belize. To give you the brief history about Belize, Belize first inhabitants were the Mayans from the beginning of time until the fourteenth century due to them mysteriously declining in population. The Mayans had a huge roll in the Central American countries. This due to the fact that they developed the idea of hieroglyphics, which back then was the only fully known writing system of the pre-Columbian Americas-as well as for its mathematics, astronomical system, art, calendar, and architecture.
The day the sky appeared broken is probably what first alarmed people into thinking something were wrong. Not to mention the unnatural occurrences that led up to it in the first place, causing an up rise in panic throughout the population. Not that you could blame them though. It was that day in which everything we humans knew changed. Towns and cities were left in ruins and civilisation eradicated.