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Cultural conflict in cross-cultural communication
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Problems of cross cultural communication
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This was going to be indeed a huge challenge for me. The next day I kept wondering what would it be like in America and how my friends would react if I thought them bye. At the time I was in first grade so leaving my friends would be bad for me. I knew simple English so America wouldn't be as hard for someone who didn’t know any english at all. The whole class time I would be thinking of America and wouldn't pass attention to what the teacher would say.
Coming to America as Immigrants and having nothing to your name can be a very intimidating situation. Many people face this obstacle and my parents are a clear example of it. I grew up watching my parents work and making sure they had no debt to their name. I remember being a young child and mom taking me to work because she didn't have a babysitter. My parents always provided me with the best and even spoiled me, sometimes when you don't work for your objects you forget to say thank you. .
To My Parents I am an immigrant. The word that Donald Trump hates. The set of people that receives many blames for crimes or mischief. But after all, thats me. I am like any other person who gets blamed, I am an immigrant.
This story about almost six years ago, when I came to the USA. Before I came to the USA I thought everybody will be different than me. For example, I thought that all people in the USA are white with gold, white, and brown hairs. When I land at the airport and I saw a lot people with black hair and not everyone were white.
Its 1914 and I just got the news that we were finally going to America! We have been waiting for several years trying to save up money and figure everything out. Going to America is almost every ones dream here in Europe. Just like Oscar Hammerston said, “ You gotta have a dream.
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.
When I moved to America, I was never accepted. People looked at me like I was dirt. They loathed my honey colored skin. This is my story; you will learn the chainman’s side of the exclusion act. White people believed we stole their jobs.
“What was it like?” I asked, scrambling to keep up with my aunt. She paused, her tall thin frame standing in the doorway. Dishes lay scattered around us. Dinner had ended hours ago, and everybody was upstairs..
My life took an interesting turn when my mother told me I would be moving to a different country, fear took over my body because that meant I would have to start from zero. On January 1st, 2011 my mom gave me the exciting news that her fiancée, now husband, had started the process to bring her to the United States so she could become a permanent resident, live with him, form a family and start a brand new life. I remember her face blighting up to every time she spoke a word but that smile faded once she told me I could not come with at that time because of the expense of the process. I understood why she could not bring me with. We had economic and emotional issues going on.
I lived as a foreigner in America for 15 years. The day I became an American citizen was one of the easiest, yet hardest days of my life. The process itself was quite simple. My parents had already been naturalized, so all I had to do was take the Oath of Allegiance and sign the Certificate of Naturalization. However, in that short one-hour ceremony, I had relinquished my Indian citizenship, losing something I had from birth, and had pledged myself to “the home of the free and the land of the brave.”
Not in a million years would I have thought I would ever move from my neighborhood in India to another house, let alone another country. If you would have come up to me and said I was moving, I probably would've just laughed at you, blinded by my obliviousness. But sure enough, one day, and I did not see this coming, my mother told me we were moving to the USA. Just out of the blue, no warning, just bam! Luckily for me, I was near a sofa when I heard this news, so I fell down on the sofa, not the ground.
Seated next to a window in the airplane I had access to a vivid view of the sky. The clouds outside of the window made me feel as if I was in Heaven. In front of me was a mini TV screen which I seem not to bother with. Only thing I took account notice of that caught my eye was the large TV screen ten seating rows ahead of me. It showed how fast the airplane was moving and a map of how far we traveled from our native country, Bangladesh.
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.
There are plenty of times in our lives when we all feel alienated and your teenage years are the prime for that. There’s plenty of instances I can recall being female and an immigrant, mostly earlier in life, but one specific time stuck out. It wasn’t a single event, but rather an experience. My experience of going to elementary school after I moved to America was definitely one of the first times when I felt separated from the larger group. I moved to Michigan from Pakistan in the June of 2005, when I was eight years old.
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.
