Personal Narrative: Moving To Dominican Republic As A Young American

Today I will be talking about the first time I came to America and how it has changed my life. When I was five years old, I started first grade in Turkey. I was afraid because my parents signed me up late and I thought I wouldn’t be able to make friends. Both my parents came with me for the first day of school and I made them wait outside of my classroom because they couldn’t come inside the classroom. The first time I entered class, all the kids were with their friends and the teacher had assigned me in between two girls.

I lived in the city, Ibague, a city I remember as being pretty yet dangerous. The streets were not to roam when it got dark and you always had to watch your surroundings when you were in public. In Colombia, robbery is a major crime that goes on due to not enough jobs available for people. My parents got a divorced when I turned one. My older sister,

This autobiographical essay will define my experience as a Dominican immigrant living in New York City. Being an American citizen with a Dominican background are extremely relevant to the process of political socialization. My family background is founded on the principles of democratic values, which taught to me by my mother and father. In New York City, I found a “melting pot” of different immigrants that allowed me to feel more accepted as a Dominican living in the United States. More so, these aspects of the socialization process provided a foundation for my belief in democratic values throughout my life.

Some of the Dominican Republic’s gender issues are similar to those of the United States. For example, United States, women working there get paid significantly less than men. Women, are objectified as well, due to the dominance of men in their culture. Most men also expect their wife or female significant other to cook them meals and clean the entire house, even if the two of them both have the same work hours. Hence, Dominican men are known as womanizers.

Challenge Essay Moving into The United States that has a different language has been the biggest obstacle that I have ever faced, especially with the fact that there was a time where I didn’t understand a single word of that language called English. This was a big obstacle in my life since I was raised in Mexico where the prime language, there is Spanish and that was the only language I knew back then, it was until the day had come where my family and I had to move into the United States due to the violence that has been happening in Mexico. I consider those times the most difficult ones of my whole life because I had to work triple than what I normally did in school in order for me to learn a huge complex language.

There were rice plants on my left and farm animals on my right. I grew up in New York City, so you can imagine the millions of questions that were running through my head. I’d never been to the countryside of the Dominican Republic before, but when I finally did, I couldn’t be more ecstatic, despite the scorching Caribbean sun burning down on my brown skin. I hadn’t visited the Dominican Republic since I was four years old. All I had was vague memories of my grandmother’s boisterous laugh and the chickens in the backyard I loved chasing after.

Changes As I walked in the door to my house I knew something was wrong when I saw my father’s face. He looked upset and scared , I really wanted to ask how his day was but I just couldn't. “Papa what was wrong?” . I asked. “We’re moving to America on Saturday.”

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.

July 4th, America declared independence from Britain. Ironically, on July 4th, 1997, my parents came to the U.S , declaring independence from their own country. Christians in Egypt were beaten up, wrongly convicted, and killed. My parents did not want to raise their children in such a corrupt society and desired to come to America to pursue a better way of life . On November 26, 1999, I was born and my parents knew that this would mean a worse financial crisis.

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.

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.

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.

I’m able to resonate with a plethora of things, yet the thing I consider my identity is I’m an adopted, Haitian immigrant.      I was born in Haiti in 1998, in a small village in Thomazeau, I moved to Croix-des- Bouquets right after my birth and I lived there until I was 9 years old. My family's financial situation was adequate. My mom was always able to find a way to make ends meet. This cause our neighbor to be envious of us.

I identify as a Latina. I have always considered myself as a Latina, but throughout time, I believe that I have assimilated more into a white individual because of the privilege that I hold and because I have lived in the US most of my life. I have received mostly negative messages from those who are not from my ethnicity. My peers and I were told we wouldn’t graduate high school and be laborers for the rest of our lives. With the current politics, I believe that this still holds true where some people still hold stereotypes and give oppressing messages to Latinos.

Last summer I went on vacation to Puerto Rico with my cousins. We did really fun things like snorkeling, a boat ride, and eating at many wonderful places. Although all those sound really fun, I want to talk about the time I met the most cutest, most fluffiest, most friendliest, animal ever. It all started off on a breezy summer night while my cousins and family were chillin’ at our hotel pool.