History Of San Bartolome Quialana

I’m an American grown up with Mexican roots; with all their traditions, religious beliefs, holidays, and foods. I come from a small town of south Texas, called The Rio Grande Valley, where I live with my average size family. I’ve grown up with my family facing hardships, and flaws yet united always. As time has gone by I’ve come to learn that everything around me has shaped me to be the young lady I am today, and I’m grateful for that.

The history of Mission San Juan Capistrano is similar to that of two other nearby missions in that it was relocated to the San Antonio area from East Texas in 1731. Its purpose was also similar to that of the other missions, namely to convert Native American groups to Christianity, assimilate them into Spanish society, and promote settlement in the region. In addition to its early history, the mission compound itself was constructed in a form typical of other San Antonio-area missions, including a church and plaza surrounded by a defensive wall formed from stone Indian quarters. The compound included other ancillary structures such as a granary, convent, workshops, and other storage facilities.

I was born during the 1920’s in Southern Alberta Canada and Montana. My tribe and I lived there most of our lives. We are known as the Blackfeet tribe. When I was born my real name was “Pitamakan” and was given the nickname “Brown Weasel Woman”. My father was a very important warrior in the tribe and taught my how to fish and hunt by age 12. My mother was against the idea of me doing the things boys learn but, my father helped me learn. He eventually taught me how shoot my own buffalo. Later in my life, our camp was attacked by the Assiniboine and my father’s horse was shot down. I knew I had to save my father’s life so, I ran back on the field where I could get killed and saved his life. We celebrated my victory by singing the Victory Song

Maria Garcia-Rada, now 20, was born May 13th, 1995 in Lima, Peru. Maria moved to the United States in 2001 because her father got a job offer in Maryland. It was a sacrifice that her father was willing to make because it was an opportunity for a better life for their family. Even though Maria moved to the United States she still follows many of the traditions and practices from her old culture and incorporates them into her everyday life while also following traditions of American culture. When she moved to America, Maria only knew how to speak Spanish. Throughout this interview the interviewer will discuss Maria’s traditions, customs, power distance within the Peruvian culture, and how the two cultures clashed at times.

Part 1: My mom is from Guerrero, Mexico. My grandparents are from Guerrero, Mexico. But they currently live in Veracruz, Mexico. My dad is from the Mexican State, Mexico. But I am from Milwaukee, Wisconsin. My mom moved to Milwaukee in April of 1998. From the beaches of Veracruz, Mexico, to the big cities of Milwaukee, Wisconsin. She moved here because she wanted to explore new things, to have a huge change in her life. From a rural areas with animals around, to a urban area with traffic everywhere. My mother came here illegally, by the borders, by walking in the hot desserts. My mom moved away from Veracruz, Mexico because she didn’t like the rural areas she was living in. Ever since I was born here, I have never moved from here. What pulled

It was July 25th, 2003 when the first Ciudadana was born, seven pounds three ounces at 3:28 pm. I was the joy of my parent’s, brother, tias, tios , and primos ( aunt’s, uncle’s, and couisins. I was the one that had a chance, first generation. My parents describe it as an emotional experience. I was my Father’s first child and my moms only girl. It was in that room where history was made for the Mora Hernandez Morales Martinez family. The hardest part is that none of my grandmothers were there to see me growing up, they were at “home”

I was born on Friday, January 4, 2002 to Mr. and Mrs. Reynaldo Sepulveda. The first born child of an anchor baby and an immigrant. My parents lived in Monterrey, Mexico for nine months after marriage. I was conceived there. My life would’ve been different if I was born and raised there. When I was about two, I was showing autistic symptoms. My mom was pregnant at the time and if I was diagnosed with autism, I would be sympathetic if she was raising two newborns: A week old girl and a three year old boy. By the time I was in Pre-K, the symptoms were starting to fade

I was born in Merida, Mexico. That special day my father was in prison, he would leave our family by my fourth birthday. It would take me eight years to reunite with him in America. With two sisters and a single mother, I became the man of the house at a young age. Neither of my parents finished a high school education. I held my first job at age seven cleaning windshields at stoplights for any available change, in an effort to alleviate my mother’s burdens. My life experiences have taught me resiliency, hard work, and determination.

As a child I didn't know I was different, I didn't know that the color of my skin, and the food I ate made me weird. Not until, It was pointed out to me. I grew up in Salvadoran-American household. We ate tamales and we ate burgers. We listened to Cumbia and we listened to Pop.I grew up in a house where two cultures were meshed together, but I always that about the country my parents called home. I grew up listening to the stories of how my mother grew up in El Salvador and immigrated to the United States when she was nine years old. Stories of my great grandma yelling at my aunts and my mom to milk the cows early in the morning. The story of my father crossing the border at 18 and being lost in the Mexican desert for 5 days. Stories of how my dad bought his first pair of shoes at 7 years old and how my father used to play with sticks by a creek for hours.

This is a narrative of one Mexican American woman’s experiences and her views on the importance of passing down the cultural beliefs of her ancestors. In the section of the country in which I live there is a large population within the community of Mexican American culture. Although I have frequent contact with people of Mexican American heritage either through employment or interaction out in the community, I have a limited understanding of their culture. For this reason, I chose to learn more about the population of people I have frequent contact with and as a professional work with as clients in the field of mental health counseling. The quest of finding someone knowledgeable to discuss the population, their cultural

This is a narrative of one Mexican American woman’s experiences and her views on the importance of passing down the cultural beliefs of her ancestors. In the section of the country in which I live there is a large population within the community of Mexican American culture. Although I have frequent contact with people of Mexican American heritage either through employment or interaction out in the community, I have a limited understanding of their culture. For this reason, I chose to learn more about the population of people I have frequent contact with and as a professional work with as clients in the field of mental health counseling. The quest of finding someone knowledgeable to discuss the population, their cultural background and some of their necessities, as well as some past experiences, led me towards contacting a church. This took calling two different churches before the person at the second church informed me that I needed to speak with, Mrs. Socorro Garcia head of their Hispanic Ministries. Unfortunately, Mrs. Garcia was on vacation when I called, but I was able to speak with her over the phone the following week, setting up an interview in person at her office a couple days later. This was a relief because I was becoming concerned about locating someone for a personal interview.

I was born in Kerala, India and was raised in Chicago, IL. I came to America at the age of three hoping for a better future. My father came to America first, and he lived with my Aunt who had three sons. After two years my father saved enough money to bring my mom, sister, and I to the US. During this time he would work as a dishwasher at a nursing home to support my family. After a month of living with my Aunty and her kids my dad found an apartment to rent. Eventually, we moved into a tiny one-bedroom apartment with my family. That was the hardest time period for me due to language barriers. My sister and I started to learn English. However, my parents were struggling to learn a new language so we would have to go everywhere with them to translate. Another, difficulty that we faced was financial issues. At that time we were making ends-meet and we were scraping every penny that we got. Afterwards, my mom got her CNA license she started working two jobs when I was only four years old. Even till this day she is still working two jobs to support the

My excuse to everything is “cause I’m Mexican”. I’m not Mexican by citizenship, but by birth. I was born in Berrien Center, Michigan; On Tuesday, January twenty sixth, nineteen ninety nine. My parents’ names are Diana Vasquez Valencia and Alberto Ruiz Hernandez. They raised me with the Mexican culture that I have learned and loved since I was a little girl. So when I say “it’s cause I’m Mexican”, It’s because I didn’t grow up watching John Wayne movies or listening to Johnny Cash. I grew up watching Novelas and listening to Selena. I was raised differently from how everyone else was raised. In the United States, I am strange. In Mexico, I am average. I lived in Michigan until I was about three years old. We moved to Glencoe Minnesota and lived in a trailer home. When I was four I was introduced to the social setting and attended a headstart. It was then, that I realized, I didn’t know how to socialize. I didn’t know what was okay to do and what wasn’t. I was teased and picked on, even by the teachers. About the time when it was my fifth birthday I found out my mom was pregnant with my sister Samantha. My parents decided to move to a bigger house to make room for our growing family, and somehow we arrived in Nicollet. I remember the first time I saw my new home; we were looking at it for the first time, to see if we wanted to buy it. The house was home to a older lady and her many, many cats. It was very strange to see so many animals in one place, since my family never had

Every culture has their own unique and distinguishing characteristics. One’s cultural identity defines who they are as an individual, group, and community. Their cultural identity may be reflected in numerous ways such as: language, communication styles, religion, beliefs, values, clothing, or other types of aesthetic markers. Cultural identity is formed by many of these traits but is not limited to these specifically. This essay will provide detailed information on Mexican Americans, and their ancestry and heritage. I will also explain about this cultures central beliefs and values, while incorporating information on Mexican Americans, cultural patterns, cultural identity, and their cultures communication characteristics and styles.

I lived in a beautiful farm in Mexico with my Mama and Papa. Everything was perfect. I would walk through the red rose bushes with my Papa. He would teach me to lay down in the fields, and listen for the heartbeat of the earth. We would hear the “Bump bump” of the Earth. The dirt was rough on our faces and we could feel a soft breeze. We had servants that would do everything for us. I never had to do anything for myself. We had riches and I had everything I wanted, and I never thought that would change.