Personal Narrative: Changing My Citizenship

Are you a real American? I 'm not a real American by my standards. You can be a better American by helping all you see. I will try to do this from now on. I may not be strong or very bright

When I arrived in the U.S at age 12 ½ it was a huge adjustment for me as I did not speak English. I was suddenly living with a family and not in the orphanage that I grew up in. it was hard for me to leave my orphanage in China I had lived there my whole life and thought of the orphanage as my home. After being adopted and now living in America I have so many opportunities I did not have in China.

Upon meeting me, not many people know that I am a first generation American. However, they are usually interested in the orgin of my last name. I am in fact Ukranian. Both my parents and my older sister were born in Ukraine. They immigrated to America in 1992 because of religious persecution that they were facing.

“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..

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.

Growing up I always knew my mindset was far past my years. The way my mind worked was different and older than those kids around me, so it was no surprise for me to be on my own right from the get go after turning 18. For as long as I can remember I have always done everything by myself especially school related. My parents are Hispanic and speak little English, making me the first person in my family to attend college. My parents brought me to the United States from Mexico at the age of four and I have lived in Oklahoma ever since.

What does it mean to be an American today? Or rather, what does being an American entail? Does that pertain to a certain individual’s perspective? Or is Americanism defined through a collective consciousness projected around the world? Over the course of time, Americans have gone through various embodiments of who they are, without loosing the essence of what they represent.

I was born and raised in the southernmost past of Texas in a city named Brownsville where diversity is almost non-existent. Growing up in a city with one of the highest poverty rates was surprisingly not as much a struggle as you may think. My father had a decent job with a salary of around 48,000, but that number varies every year. He is the captain of a shrimp boat and has owned his very own boat a few times. For this reason, my father was frequently absent in my life and still is to this day.

I cringe at the smell of alcohol floating around the apartment. A cold shiver simmers down my spine as I hear footsteps making their way to my room. 3 loud, hard knocks bang on the door. I open the door waiting for it. Waiting for the rock solid slap that pierces my face everyday leaving bruises and black eyes the size of tennis balls.

My identity has always felt inextricably linked to what Miami is. A city that is teeming with immigrants, a city with dreams stacked and slopped atop each other, and a city that is living proof of the failed American dream. I say so because of my early observation that generation after generation of immigrants often seemed to stay trapped in dead end jobs; I saw this within my own family – within my grandmother, my aunts and uncles, and even my cousins. Here it was even within my own family tree the deep implicit message that there was no way out of our socioeconomic level. When I made it into an Ivy League college, it was a message that was slowly re-enforced by the fact that my demographic was the most represented in the custodial staff rather than within my own classmates.

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.

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.

On one brusque day, I was running from the cops knowing that I shouldn’t have held up 7/11 while on probation. Now i’m really gonna get locked up now. I don’t care i’ll miss my sophomore year or if the judge gives me grace again. I’ll end up with my dad in West Cali, and i’ll end up working at his retarded library. My mom and he were divorced when I was three.

January 11, 2013, I wake up to yelling, prayers, and crying. I walked into the kitchen where all the noises were coming from and I found my mother on the floor crying, talking on the phone with my godmother. My father was there by her side, trying hard not to cry while supporting his wife. I didn’t know what was happening, this was the first time I’ve seen my mom so vulnerable and broken. My parents didn’t tell me anything other than my grandmother was in critical condition at the hospital, but with god's help she would overcome this hard time.

The world is filled with people, and like snowflakes, each person is not the same as another. Each person identifies with different aspects of their lives to create their own personal identities. I personally identify with my Italian side of my family to help form who I am today. I have found myself connecting with this side more so than the other parts of my identity. It affects how I live my life by becoming the center to the culture surrounding me.