Being the only immigrant child opens the door to a lot of name calling in your family. I have always thought of myself as an American. So it annoyed me a little bit when my my sister or brother called me an immigrant. But it’s ironic because aren't I actually an immigrant myself? The one who came to America from Sri Lanka at nine months old with no papers. Went through extra security in airports because I wasn't yet a citizen. Always had to not only remember my social security but my green card as well . So why do I get frustrated when people label me as an immigrant, when the true matter is that I literally am one. Throughout my life these thoughts continuously go through my head and is still a working progress in which I am trying to figure out what I want to be, and what I’m actually am. In temple gatherings and parties, I was always asked if I could speak Sinhala, the main language …show more content…
So basically I concerned myself as an American my whole life. Went to school, had fun, read books, and ate french fries and pizzas like any other American. Anything that was Sri Lankan in the household came from my parents. They spoke in rapid Sinhala, cooked spicy Sinhalese food, and even dragged us to the temple to pray since we were Buddhists. Despite my parents influences of the Sri Lankan culture throughout my life, I have never felt a deep connection or any connection at all towards my birth country. I would just went through the day, trying my best to hid that I am Sri Lankan during school unless I was asked where I was from. “Sri Lanka? Where’s that? In India right?’ I’d wish to reply back with “No! your racist pig”, but really answered back saying, “No it’s just a whole other country, under India”. The fact that people had no idea where or what Sri Lanka was persuaded me more that maybe there is no such thing as Sri Lanka, it’s just an imaginary disease used in apocalyptic
Being a Hispanic have impacted all my entire life; I lived 15 years of my life in Mexico I love being there because most part of my family live in Nuevo Laredo, I was cursing my last months of 8th grade and one day my mom told me that she was thinking about send me here to the U.S to start learn English; since I’m a U.S citizen and I didn't know the language of my country, I accepted. The most hard prove was live without having my mom at my side, since I live with my aunt now; when the days passed here in the U.S I started to depressed myself because I missed so much my house and all my family, one day in the middle of the night I call my mom crying and I told her that I really want go back to Mexico, but she didn’t take into account my desire my mom just explained me that it will be the best for my future and with the time I will be thankful with her for don’t let me go back. My mom, and my grandmother are the ones who motivates me to be a better student. Actually I’m in dual enrollment and I have taken AP classes; sometimes is hard for me talk, read or write in another language that the one I was accustomed but, every time I fail I get up and persist until I’m able to do what I want.
Throughout the years I have been asked many questions about my status in the United States just because I’m Hispanic. Most of the people who ask questions over the status of someone in the United States are trying to make jokes about them (Hispanics) “jumping the border” or “swimming across the border.” To Americans we are all grouped in the same category and don’t realize that we’re not all from Mexico and we’re not all uneducated. There are two different sides to the Hispanic race just like there are two different sides to African Americans as shown in “Who Shot Johnny?” by Debra Dickerson.
I remember the first time I came to America; I was 10 years old. Everything was exciting! From getting into an airplane, to viewing magnificent, huge buildings from a bird’s eye view in the plane. It was truly memorable. After staying few days at my mother’s house, my father and I wanted to see what Dallas looks like. But because my mother was working the whole day, it wasn’t convenient for her to show us the area except only on Sundays. Finally, we went out to the nearby mall with my mother. My father and I were astonished after looking at a variety of stores. But after looking at different stores, we were finally tired and hungry, so we went into McDonald’s. Not being familiar with fast food restaurants, we were curious to try American
We live in a nation that has been called the land of opportunities, a nation that was developed on the hands, sweats and hard work of many people. These same people are those who are from here but are poor, or who come here for a better life and migrated from other countries some by force and others by choice. We live in a country that many look at immigrants as if they are different from the rest, what makes them different is how they speak or dress. At the end of it all we are all humans and they should not be considered to be call illegal immigrants. What is so illegal about that is the question to ask, and why it is that one word is the one to define someone’s character of who they are. One piece of paper is what define who we are in this
I am an chinese and mexican american. You might think those are the best mixes of race you can get but you are truly wrong? Growing up in a small farm town in the outskirts of San Diego I truly wish I was white like the rest of the kids at my school. For the hardships I have faced with race discrimination I am truly ashamed of being the color and human genetics I have.
Writing a self-reflective tirade is perhaps one of the most difficult tasks to perform. I have found myself pondering this topic for an unusually long time; no one has ever asked me to write about my culture-- the one thing about myself which I understand the least. This question which is so easy for others to answer often leads me into a series of convoluted explanations, "I was born in the U.S., but lived in Pakistan since I was six. My brothers moved to the US when I was thirteen" I am now nearly twenty, which means I have spent half my life being Pakistani, the other half trying to be American, or is the other way around?
We don’t realize how hard it is for immigrant parents to get their children education, and we judge and hate on something we have never been through. I guess it’s true you never know someone’s pain unless you go through it. Not everyone has the same privileges as others, some have to work twice as hard to try to give their children an opportunity towards an education on the contrary some American families have it simpler. I not blaming people who have families who were born here or say it’s wrong, but many people tend to affront children of immigrant parents and feel like they have the equitableness to say they aren’t suitable to receive public education.
Imagine yourself in a life of poverty. No healthcare, earning low wages in poor working conditions. This is the life of an illegal immigrant, surprisingly, in the United States of America. What, exactly, is an immigrant? According to the World Almanac of U.S. Politics 1997, “Not subject to any numerical limitation, immigrants [are] classified as immediate relatives (spouses, parents, or natural children) of U.S. citizens; returning permanent resident aliens; certain former U.S. citizens; and certain long-term U.S. government employees” (Wagman). The fear stemmed from being caught as an illegal immigrant hinders every decision of his livelihood, from education to employment—their whole lives are affected in a negative manner. No one needs to live that way. The solution, however, is not to simply accept every willing immigrant freely, but to give all foreigners a more fair and reasonable chance of becoming a citizen of the “land of the free and the home of the brave.” Strict enforcement of a more streamline verification process by the government in supervising legal immigration is needed to continue America’s evolution culturally and economically with the addition of individuals from foreign nations trying to properly enter the United States of America.
Since the beginning, America has always been a nation of immigrants, but many times the very same America seems to forget. As of today there are millions of immigrants who are looked down upon by American-born citizens who were freed by their immigrants ancestors generations ago. Today in the year of 2016 immigration is a burning topic in American politics and in regular discussions around the country. Many allege that Immigration has and continues to ruin America others disagree. Most of the time the people who are against immigration are the ones who only know the single stories about immigrants or simply aren 't educated enough on the topic. Unfortunately out of these single stories believed about immigrants and immigration as a whole stereotypes
At a young age, my teachers and parents taught me to believe that I could do and accomplish anything that I set my mind to. I grew up thinking that I was unstoppable and that the only limit to my achievements was the sky. However, during my second year in high school, I began to realize that I was not as unstoppable as I had thought. I began to experience the consequences of my parent’s decision of bringing me to the United States illegally. Among those consequences were, not being able to apply for a job, obtain a driver’s license or take advantage of the dual enrollment program at my high school, simply because I did not possess a social security number. I remember thinking that all of my hard work was in vain and that I was not going to
My family is first generation immigrants from Iraq, life coming to America was very hard. When we first came we did not speak much english. The first thing that made it so hard for us was learning a new language then having to take our citizenship test not to long after. Some of the questions that I studied for I know many native born Americans who would know the answers. This country though gave me an oppurintity that I never had before. My dad was drafted into the gulf war and during that time Sadam Hussian would have anyone killed if they did not. So my family fled to Saudi Arabia after time in the refugee camp we came to America. I feel that my story of life is so different, but I know many of us (immigrants) can relate to parts of my experiences.
“You are only allowed to make racist jokes if it’s about your own race.” This saying, which radiated through the halls of my middle school that prided itself for its diversity, managed to make me feel more comfortable in my own skin. Why did the ability to make fun of two different races, while many of my peers could only make fun of one, validate my own racial identity? I should not have wanted to tease my race and my ancestors but it helped me feel comfortable, even though I knew my knowledge of the cultures I was born into was lacking.
United States usually known as the “melting pot” and it is a typical immigrant country. In the past 400 years, United States has become a mixture of more than 100 ethnic groups. Immigrants bring they own dream and come to this land, some of them looking for better life for themselves and some want to make some money to send back home or they want their children to grow up in better condition. Throughout the history there’s few times of large wave of immigration and it is no exaggeration to say that immigrants created United States. For this paper I interview my neighbor and his immigration story is pretty interesting.
There is an abundance of ways to identify oneself. I perceive myself as a Somali Muslim American Immigrant. The reason i identify myself in such categories isn’t of distinctiveness, because living in Minnesota with a high population of Somali Immigrants doesn't seem to distinguish me as much. However, in order for me to tell my story, i must divulge into my background.I came to the United States during third grade from Kenya and was able to finish high school in Minnesota. After graduation ten years later, i went on a family vacation back to Kenya, and also had the privilege to visit Somalia for the first time in my life since the war that my parents fled ruptured in my country 25 years ago. It was an eye opener, and life changing experience that for me to put into mere words would be utterly
I'll start off by asking a question, Are you from a family of immigrants. I’d like to think that the majority of people here are from a family of immigrants. You may or may not have been in tune with the news lately but it seems to me that the word immigrant is starting to have a negative connotation and it is being targeted towards the minorities of this country. Politics aside, I believe that every person regardless of race, ethnicity, gender, social status or sexual orientation is entitled to equal rights and an equal stance in this country. So going back to the word immigrant, why is this starting to have a bad connotation in today's day and age. This is just one of a plethora of examples of the obstacles we face as minorities.