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Personal Narrative: My Dream Of Immigration

1623 Words7 Pages

While every other thirteen year old my age had new shoes; I had to take care of mine since mid summer up until late winter. I remember I was a forthcoming freshman when I underwent an unfortunate immigration odyssey. I was not too young yet not too old to cope with the situation--however, social pressures did creep up on my shoulders. This unfortunate event did not only reflect itself on my footwear--it also shattered the pink colored glasses I saw life through. The day my stepfather left impulsively to the impoverished ranch in Durango, Mexico that he grew up in, the odyssey formed. Although, he left to say his last goodbye to his wilting mother, my family and I were jealous of his departure. Our attachment was too strong, that the moment …show more content…

Therefore, I know for a fact that I can boast, that I will achieve and surpass my objective and will not be chained to the notion or fear of my immigrant status. My ambition to continue and pursue education could have not been possible if it were not for Early College Academy and it’s staff that’s mission is to provide a push to those who seek to go to college and someday become someone in life. Before my arrival, I talked about my future like I didn't care and how my dreams could take me anywhere. I failed to pursue my dreams and I lied to myself with the promise that I’d do it but I never got around to it. I was given the choice of one of two paths, one that was amusing and the other serious. I took the amusing, after all I had recently overcame at the time the absence of my stepdad however, I was soon caught up by a wakeup call. The wakeup call was what I had in store for my future and how I was managing my education and how I lost a grip of my vow. As a light of hope, I came to reconsider my choosing of one of two paths once again and I chose Early College Academy and now I am on the path to

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I’m able to resonate with a plethora of things, yet the thing I consider my identity is I’m an adopted, Haitian immigrant.      I was born in Haiti in 1998, in a small village in Thomazeau, I moved to Croix-des- Bouquets right after my birth and I lived there until I was 9 years old. My family's financial situation was adequate. My mom was always able to find a way to make ends meet. This cause our neighbor to be envious of us.

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Once the grey stormy clouds started rolling on the horizon, something was coming. The smell of smoke was in the air and the grounds started shaking. That’s when everyone started running. It was another bomb attack where all the buildings were falling and people were fleeing. With all the chaos of people trying to run with their families, leaving everything behind to get to a safe place I had to stop.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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I want to start my story before I was even born. My dad came to the United States but my mom was still in the Philippines. Then when I was born in the Philippines, my mom took care of me for five years while my dad was working a minimum wage job in the U.S., trying to earn enough money to send both my mom and I to the United States so we could all have a better life, one where we could prosper more due to the opportunities that the U.S. provides. I grew up going to a public school from kindergarten to 5th grade where I met people of different races. When I was in school being in ESL (English as a Second Language) exposed me to even more people of color such as Mexicans, Middle Eastern people, Turkish people, Latinos, and other Asian people.

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I cringe at the smell of alcohol floating around the apartment. A cold shiver simmers down my spine as I hear footsteps making their way to my room. 3 loud, hard knocks bang on the door. I open the door waiting for it. Waiting for the rock solid slap that pierces my face everyday leaving bruises and black eyes the size of tennis balls.

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Immigration a strong word that defines and that my family express there feelings to. At the age of 3 I was just a little girl running around the house in my dipper playing with my older brother. I do not clearly remember what happen even though I was present I had to ask my mom about it. Both of my parents migrated from Mexico to the United States when they where around 17-19 years old in 1990. My parents met in the United States a year after, my mom got pregnant by my dad and had my older brother by September 1992 and 2 years later I was born.

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In addition to this, I was constantly denied eligibility for scholarships due to my immigration status, and although I was given many opportunities to represent my school at national conventions, I was unable to attend for the same reason. Fortunately, I suddenly came to the realization that only obstacle preventing me from embarking on these scholastic and career opportunities was myself. It was then that I sought help and with the assistance of a few selfless individuals who took the time to walk me through the process, I

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First generation immigrants sacrifice their adulthood in search of a better life for their family and for future generations to come. My father came from Peru to support his family. He was the first person in his family to come to America. He works in road construction from morning until night so that my family is supported. The desire to repay both of my parents is the belief that guides my life.

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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.

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Moving to a completely place to another with so much unfamiliarity completely shapes who you are as a person and teaches you unique values. I decided to interview my mom, it was interesting to see how much I did not not know about her and the stories she told me about her life experiences. I learned about her struggles growing up and how being an immigrant affected her personally. We have a really close relationship and I feel that this brought us a little closer because I was able to ask her questions that I have never thought of asking her.

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