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.
When I was 10 years old I moved to Chile that is very far away from the United States. It was hard to maintain contact with my friends from California. I would talk on the phone with them everyday but as the days passed by our phone calls shortened and started to be once a week,then once a month to never again. I tried to rebuild our friendship but it just wasn 't the same. As much as I tried to make it work the distance was just too much for both me and my friends.
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.
Many kids do not realize how life is out of the United States. I have experienced a completely new aspect of life outside of an American life into a third world country. Being able to stay there for half of the summer each year as taught me valuable characteristics. The culture experience I had in El Salvador has made me a humble individual, who has become more generous and a thankful person.
There was not much to do as I grew up in Haiti. I would sit outside for hours until the sun would set, the darkness consuming the little light that once remained. I didn’t know anything besides my house; my mom believed that our safety simply lay inside the house and anything outside was dangerous. Growing up, I didn’t have my father around because he came to the United States in order to provide for his family back home. At the age of seven both my immigration papers and my sister's were finalized, and we were able to finally be with our father.
I was born in Colombia, South America and lived there until I turned seven. Before I moved to the states, I attended a public school and was on the competitive swim team for my school. I earned many awards the year and a half I swam for my school. I took pride in competing with girls three to four years older than me. I also remember how different things were there than they are here in the states.
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.
My Trip to Haiti It was the beginning of my junior year in high school and there had been much talk about a school trip to Port Au Prince, Haiti, Only ten students could attend this trip, applications had opened up in November and for me a trip to Haiti sounded like just a dream, I thought I was not able to afford it. The idea for the possibility to travel to a new country and be exposed to a brand new culture excited me, I made the decision to apply anyway. In December, I received news that I had been chosen as one of the first ten students from my school to go on this new service trip. I was so excited that I was even qualified, but also worried because I knew that the price was still an issue.
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.
Moving to Dominican Republic as a young American came with many challenges. One of the main challenges was crime; crime is one of the biggest problems for tourist. I moved to the Dominican Republic at the age of 11 with my parents. I was in middle school when I had my first close encounter with crime during the summer, a week right before school started. I was robbed by two assailants, one on a motorcycle and the other man was walking.
My parents and I moved to the Dominican Republic when I was thirteen years old. Living there as a young American came with many challenges. One of the biggest threats against foreigners is violence. Within my first years of living in Dominican Republic, I had experienced two incidents at it firsthand. The first incident happen a week before school began, I was mugged by two assailants; man on a motorcycle and another man on foot.
Over the Border Every year my family decides what to do for the holidays and where to go. Most of the time I have no say in it because my uncles insist on visiting or they invite us over. It doesn’t help that all of my family lives in Texas, California, and Mexico. This year has been the first time that we have spent Christmas and New Years here at home with just my family in a long time. Last year we took a long trip to Chihuahua, Mexico which is the biggest part/state of Mexico where my mother is from.
Anxiety, it’s the feeling that came over me when I arrived at the airport to come to America. I was born in Brasil, it was my home. So boy was I shocked when I heard that we were moving to the United States, and I was only six years old. My parents thought we would have a better life here in America because, with all the “opportunities” it offered, it was the place to be. My father flew over one month before I was scheduled to; he planned on getting everything situated by finding a job and a place for us to live.
I woke up on an especially cool winter morning and looked over to my mother’s side of the bed. She was not there, I knew that, but I secretly wished she was. I swung my legs off the bedside and rushed to the bathroom to brush my teeth and get myself ready for school. This was a typical morning for me.
The first eight years of my life, I spent in India where I was born. Growing up I was constantly reminded by my parents that I needed to make them proud by getting a good job and living a good lifestyle. They told me this because they did not want to see me live a hard life like they did. When I was nine years old, I moved from India to the United States of America. The reason why I moved to America was not because I was living a bad life in India, it was so that I could have a better education and more opportunities in life.
