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Racial and social identity
Racial and social identity
Immigrants and racial profiling
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More handpicked essays just for you.
Racial and social identity
Racial and social identity
Immigrants and racial profiling
Don’t take our word for it - see why 10 million students trust us with their essay needs.
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.
A lot of stuff happened in eighth grade, some good, some bad. For one good thing, every time at the end of quarter, we would do nothing and just play games, eat pizza, and watch movies. All the bad things I can think about is just the bad grades I get on test sometimes like that. So the goods outweigh the bads.
In this letter tells of how I crossed the border between Mexico and the United States. I left my house in Guatemala at 4:30 in the morning bound for Mexico on 28 January 2002. Arrived to a central bus station in Mexico about 7:00 in the morning, where there was a man who would help me cross the border. I remember very well we took a bus as about 7:30 in the morning, while in the bus the man gave me a passport with a tourist visa for me to use to cross the border. The passport was from Guatemala, if I remember right, I do not remember under whose name was made the passport.
“No pain no gain”, echoes in my mind, as the hot sweltering humid air engulfs my room, baking me in the unbearable heat early one morning, during the summer after my freshman year of college. The thought instantly brings me back to memories of my childhood, where whenever I complained, my dad would retort “no pain no gain”. Back then, I hated hearing it over and over again. To me it was just something my parents said to stop us from complaining, and I never stopped to think why that one phrase was so important to them.
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. .
I have lived in two different worlds. The duality of the immigrant experience is a battle that every first-generation child has to wage. As I conquered my language barrier, a whole new world full of traditions and customs opened up. Seeking acceptance from my peers, it was hard not to adopt their culture and ignore my own in the process. However, abandonment was not an option in a family with a strong cultural identity.
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.
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.
In 2009, the U.S. Census gathered that there were over thirty-three million second-generation immigrants living in America. America is a melting pot, and in this melting pot, it isn’t uncommon for these children, myself included, to lose sight of what our lives could be–and the struggles that our parents faced to ensure that we have more opportunities than they had. As I write this essay, I’m stressing over the things any other American high school sophomore faces– grades, social drama and statuses, and my follower count on Twitter and Instagram. These “problems,” if even that, are minute to what others our age face around the world.
I first moved to Texas and in particular to South Texas on the summer of 2001. Immediately after I got here I enrolled for classes for the Fall Semester at the University of Texas Pan American as an international student. On the morning of September 11, 2001 while I was getting ready for class I watched with horror on television, as many Americans did that day, the terrorist attack that unfolded in New York city, as well as the Pentagon and Pennsylvania. At first, the sheer destruction and the astounding amount of casualties was what I remember vividly, but that event will have a direct effect on me without even knowing it at the moment. You see, when I first came here, I came with a student visa, just like the terrorists that boarded the airplanes that were involved in the terrorist act.
Even though I have never been on an airplane, I consider myself an international traveler. I live in the U.S. but I also have Lebanese immigrant parents. When I was younger, I used travel back and forth across international borders to fulfill my daily routine in one city. But; I was never Arab enough to fit in with “Arab” natives, and being Arab means that I would never be considered “American” enough.
Coming from a low income family, living in a small town in India, I learned early on about struggling and surviving those struggles. I watched my parents working day and night to provide for electricity, pay for our monthly school fees so my sister and I can have a better education, and for the future they wished upon for their children. To further enhance this vision, my father decided for the family and I to immigrate to the US. Everything was different in the sense that I changed schools, learned a new language, had to make new friends, and learned the different culture. I had to adapt to a whole new world, which was a little difficult at 6 years old
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.
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.
“Robin Hood and the Three Squires” 12th June 2015 Summary “Robin Hood and the Three Squires” is a poem (or a ballad) by an anonymous poet about how Robin Hood goes on a quest to rescue his three men who have been captured for killing the king’s deer. On the way, he encounters an old woman and an old man, as well as the sheriff who locked up his men, and with them he gains information on how to save his men. Genre The genre of this literary text is poetry because poems are written in stanzas of 4 lines each usually. Its sub-genre is folk-song.