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Mexican and american culture
Hispanic and american culture
Hispanic and american culture
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More handpicked essays just for you.
Mexican and american culture
Hispanic and american culture
Hispanic and american culture
Don’t take our word for it - see why 10 million students trust us with their essay needs.
Recommended: Mexican and american culture
As a kid growing up there are encounters that change your perspectives on life and what you need to fulfill in life. Luckily growing up for me was never what some would state a battle. I experienced childhood in a white collar class group of five in the residential community of Mercedes, Tx. As a kid living around there of texas known as the Rio Grande Valley you start to see the battles other individuals look in the group and You end up noticeably appreciative for the things you do have.
Golden light from a Texas sunset illuminating stark white fields of cotton, green and yellow tractors leisurely making their way down the middle of Main Street, and a community that will always support you are just a few things one might experience if you came to my hometown in rural Texas. Matador, Texas isn't just a dusty old town in the middle of nowhere, it is a town that no matter who you are or what you are trying to do, hard work is always required; it is where I grew up from the day I was born, spent lazy summer days reading and writing abstract stories without distractions of people, traffic, or even the ever-present cell phone, and where I learned about a whole other side of society, one where the community gathers together for anything
One thing is a dream in serving God, and another thing is to do it. When we came to the US with Adriana, my wife, was a new star for us. We got married before came. However, also was a new beginning in my ministry… God planted a new and bigger vision in our hearts.
The immigrants saw America as their best opportunity for creating the new start they desired. Many people sold all their property just to afford the trip to America. Their journey featured many hardships that made travel to their new home difficult. Even after they arrived, their
Here, none of that is true. It has taken us 2 days to get to Saltillo, Mexico. It’ll take us another couple of days to get to Texas. We don’t have a final destination yet but Mami says we’ll figure it out when we get there. We are walking in big groups.
The community I grew up in central Texas celebrated my heritage, honored differences in culture, and fostered personal growth and self-discovery. My parents, with the strong work ethic they developed on their family’s farms in Ghana, encouraged my brother and me to work hard and find ways to use our skills to be of service to others, which wasn’t hard to do growing up in Austin with its many avenues to become involved and take care of the community, whether it was helping to direct families through the Trail of Lights at Zilker Park during the winter or raise money for educational programs for underprivileged kids in the area through working the concession stands at the University of Texas at Austin. It was this collaborative mindset that Austin
If you are feeling a little confused that’s okay, this is judgment free zone. I am twenty three years old and on the verge of graduating this December, And my interpretation of messages changes every day that I mature and grow as a person.
El Paso and Ciudad Juarez lie side by side, but are separated by the Rio Grande. The border’s way of life relies on the dividing line. As a resident of Ciudad Juarez, I experience a blend of cultures on an everyday basis. However, in 2010 the unique culture of the city was darkened by the shedding violence in Ciudad Juarez. Ciudad Juarez came to be known as the deadliest city in the world.
Growing up, I never believed I had an identity. When I delve back to my earliest of memories, both English and Spanish made an appearance in my dialogue. Because my life had always remained constrained in a blend of American and Mexican culture, it was difficult to distinguish exactly which group I resonated most with. Here in the Rio Grande Valley, it is an internal war that is fought constantly. Whoever could predominantly show their Mexican heritage would be held at a great regard for not neglecting their roots.
I am not white, but I am not Mexican either. I am, however, a first generation Mexican American with parents from San Luis Potosi, Mexico. Perhaps I do not know what it is like to cross the border that refrains me from being Mexican, or the color of my skin that refrains me from being white, but my own personal experiences make me the Mexican American that I am today. Growing up I celebrated the Fourth of July with fireworks, and the Day of the Virgin of Guadalupe with matlachines.
Disappointment. Betrayal. Deceived. All these terms are common themes in the writing of several immigrants during their journey to America. After reading many personal accounts of immigrants and learning about their expeditions to America, it became evident it is not as joyous a ride as many make it seem.
Once in America, they hope to find family members or at least a possibility of work in an effort to help their families. Their perils range from exposure to the elements, to loss of limb from slipping while riding the train, to rape and torture, and death. Neither the children nor their parents are guaranteed survival from the trip. They only have a dream of a better life and hope that once in America; that they will be able to help the families left behind. Many illegal immigrants feel they have no other choice but to come to America, they are desperate.
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.
Growing up as a first-generation Mexican American was a huge advantage for me in that it allowed me to grow up in a culturally diverse community. I learned how to work well with people of all backgrounds and empathize with people from all walks of life. However, while being the first in my family to go to college was a momentous accomplishment, the lack of instruction and guidance lead me to commit many mistakes that could have been easily avoided during my first years at college. My timidity and downright arrogance lead me to believe that I did not need anyone’s assistance and thus I found myself denial that there was a problem in terms of my grades during my first semesters. I have since addressed this issue and have worked diligently to
I believe the term, hispanic, itself does not define who I am. I define who I am and who I want to become. However, I do come from a Mexican heritage. Coming from a Mexican heritage has influenced and deeply impacted my life. My heritage has taught me a lot.