Day 2 Immigrant. That word gives me a label here. I am crossing the border to the U.S because my parents think it will give us a new beginning and a better life. I think they’re wrong. Our life in El Salvador was fine: We had a nice house and we were healthy.
When I Went To Florida I went to Florida after 4th grade in the summer. When we went to Florida, Jaxon my sisters, brother came with us. The night before we left he stayed at my house. When we left the next morning we left at 3:00 A.M. While we were on our way we both had to sit in the very back of the car because my sisters came with us. The ride there was not fun at all.
This autobiographical essay will define my experience as a Dominican immigrant living in New York City. Being an American citizen with a Dominican background are extremely relevant to the process of political socialization. My family background is founded on the principles of democratic values, which taught to me by my mother and father. In New York City, I found a “melting pot” of different immigrants that allowed me to feel more accepted as a Dominican living in the United States. More so, these aspects of the socialization process provided a foundation for my belief in democratic values throughout my life.
There were rice plants on my left and farm animals on my right. I grew up in New York City, so you can imagine the millions of questions that were running through my head. I’d never been to the countryside of the Dominican Republic before, but when I finally did, I couldn’t be more ecstatic, despite the scorching Caribbean sun burning down on my brown skin. I hadn’t visited the Dominican Republic since I was four years old. All I had was vague memories of my grandmother’s boisterous laugh and the chickens in the backyard I loved chasing after.
When I was younger, I never felt out of place. I didn't even know what out of place was, I was always just me. When asked where I was from, I would always say America, obviously. I never regarded my Cuban culture and I resented the fact that I didn't look like the blonde, blue-eyed actresses that dominated the media. As I got older I started appreciating my Hispanic roots more, but I still didn't feel like I truly belonged anywhere.
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.
Going through every security checks and bag checks, I anxiously waited until it was my turn. There were thousands of people standing at the baggage claim waiting to claim their luggage and others were rushing to the gate to catch their flight. I happened to be one of those people. Sitting in the cold lounge, waiting for my flight to El Salvador to arrive, all I could think about was my mother’s last words before she said goodbye. Her exact words were “I promise, I will be there soon.”
My grandfather asked me “Which one?” I respond “Let’s get this one”. Little did I know that guinea pig was my dinner. Guinea pigs or cuy are not pets but food in Ecuador. When I arrived at the airport it looked like any typical airport, but it felt as if I was in a different world.
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.
Today I will be talking about the first time I came to America and how it has changed my life. When I was five years old, I started first grade in Turkey. I was afraid because my parents signed me up late and I thought I wouldn’t be able to make friends. Both my parents came with me for the first day of school and I made them wait outside of my classroom because they couldn’t come inside the classroom. The first time I entered class, all the kids were with their friends and the teacher had assigned me in between two girls.
One day when I woke up I was getting ready to go to America. I was leaving with my Dad, Mom, Sister, and my Brother. My family and I are leaving leaving from Germany and going to America. We are going to bring clothes such as shirts, pants, underwear, socks, shoes, and hats. We will also bring soap, food, and other stuff like that to survive in America.
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.
Last summer I went on vacation to Puerto Rico with my cousins. We did really fun things like snorkeling, a boat ride, and eating at many wonderful places. Although all those sound really fun, I want to talk about the time I met the most cutest, most fluffiest, most friendliest, animal ever. It all started off on a breezy summer night while my cousins and family were chillin’ at our hotel pool.
After weeks of torturous homework, exams and assignments, high school was finally over! Summer holidays here I come! My family got plane tickets to Miami Florida. The land of beaches, sun and fun. We are heading to the airport in three hours.
Beneficiaries called to ask me if I wanted to perform community service at a cathedral in Dallas, TX. I agreed because I like to volunteer in any event when it is needed. This event was called “Feed the Hunger,” which I signed up for and looked forward to because of my desire to lend a hand and assist the needy and unfortunate. At first, I thought this event was just one of those other community service opportunities that I am usually called to facilitate and volunteer my time. However, in the end, this occasion was a life-changing experience.
