Mexico Personal Narrative

I meet my Grandparents and Mexico because of my mom. “Jamie we are going to Mexico and you will your Grandparents” said my mom “What!”. The time had come I had to say bye to my dad and get into the plane. “Bye dad I will miss you so much” “You will come back Jamie, I will miss you too” my dad answer. We got to Mexico City and my Grandpa was at the airport waiting for us. We got to the town I had never seen so many people all my family was there the family of my dad and mom. I didn't know what to do I was barely 5 years old. They had make tamales and don't remember what else. I just wanted to do is go back to the US. The first few weeks were horrible I hated Mexico they didn't have good pizza and hamburgers the food that my grandma did I didn't

December twenty-nine, two thousand and seven is a date that is forever in my mind. The

Waving goodbye from the backseat of the car, as we pull out of my parent’s driveway. Looking out the window at the oddly, white shaped clouds. Thinking, I had never been away from my parents and my younger sister for so long, even though it was only for two weeks. I was excited and scared all at once, but I wasn’t too thrilled about the whole 29-hour drive there. Hoping that the trip would go well and nothing bad will happen to us.

Coming from a Mexican immigrant family I have learned to recognize since a very young age that because of the status that my parents are placed in they cannot pursue a better future like the one I want. I have been given the opportunity to challenge myself with obtaining a higher education than just high school itself. My parents have demonstrated to me through their hard work that I have to value this opportunity unless I want to end up with low paying job. My life long dedication comes from seeing my parents make sacrifices in order for my education to continue.

The sun was shining bright and a clear ocean blue sky in Mexico. It was a great start that morning until, Elizabeth had to make a difficult decision that could change her whole life. She has four siblings and her mom and dad. Her parents didn't make enough money to pay for school and for other multiple things. So Elizabeth and her siblings would just stay at home and help out their mom clean around the house. Sometimes they would just mess around at home not helping out with their mom.

We were at the border between Mexico and America. I had never been here before and I was anxious. There were so many police walking around. We were going to the place where my dad lived when he was younger. This has shaped me into the person I am today because I saw how hard it is to live over there. I met a lot of my relatives. The food over there was so much better.

Who am I? Who am I is what I tend to ask myself often, more than I probably should. That question floats around in my head from day to day waiting to be answered. Well to answer my question, I’m my roots. My Mexican roots have shaped me into the person I am today any many ways. Such as, the food I love to eat, the languages I speak, the music I enjoy listening to, the places I enjoy going to, all of my traditions, how I dress, and my name. All of those factors tie into who I am, Alejandra. I have Mexican blood running through my veins, which I’m very proud of. I have my parents to thank for who I am.

Communication apprehension has been a struggle for me being an immigrant from Mexico. Conversing in my native language I am very vocal, participative and communicative with extensive vocabulary. Communication in a second language presented a language barrier and apprehension of making grammar mistakes and embarrassment of my accent.

Everything was so new and yet so familiar. Places I have seen and places I have not. A new and funny feeling swam through my body unsure what to think about this feeling. Never felt it before, and I somehow knew it wouldn’t be that last.

My eyes reveal my story. Although I was born in the United States, my Mexican heritage shines through my hazel eyes. I am proud of both my American and Mexican identity. My Grandparents on both sides immigrated from Mexico to Southern, California before my parents were born. In our home, we celebrate our Mexican culture through cooking traditional meals and celebrating traditional holidays, such as Día de los muertos. My Family creates an altar decorated with candles, flowers, colorful trimmings and offerings for our loved ones who have passed. I feel fortunate my Mexican heritage is intertwined with my American identity.

Narratives often provide the opportunity to hear personal experiences of certain individuals to better understand a struggle and finding of identity and purpose. This is especially true when being presented the stories of a marginalized group. Majoritarian stories, while valuable, may distort and silence the experiences of minority communities, often resulting in unfair assumptions made towards said communities. Being presented with counter-stories not only allows people of various backgrounds to hear a response towards more wide-spread claims, but also prevents the majoritarian narrative from dominating the discourse and understanding towards an experience or a group of individuals (Solorzano and Yosso, 2001).

During the summer my family and me went on vacation to mexico to see my grandma at her house it took us 2 days to get to her town is mexico when we got there is was 11 at night my uncle opened the garage door to let us in when we got off the car my grandma opened the door to let us in her house she gave everyone a hug the her and my mom started to cook food for everyone. After everyone got their suitcases out of the car and took them to there room my mom and dad slept in one room, my sister and her daughter slept in another room and my nephew and me slept in the living room. The next day my dad showed me around the town he grew up in where his other family members who lived there, and his aunt who owns a store on the corner of the street. When

In the first place, 1930 was hard for most people even though I hadn’t experienced it but my family and I were one of the survivors that lived thanks to my father. My Father died during the dust bowl due to pneumonia. Since my father died my mom is a single parent so I have to go to school. I go to school with a trash bag and out of nowhere people start calling me names like mentally retarded, but I don't care because they are the rich kids here. A few have passed and I started to do things like work go to school and other stuff people do. During the time of school I had better grades than all the students in my class, but one thing that was hard and distracting was my teacher. Sometimes she’d get mad at other students then she would get mad

I got adopted by my step-dad when I was three so I grew up in a Mexican family. I remember eating Mexican food. It’s was so good, the soups were great too. I loved the party’s we always through. My favorite meal was tacos growing up it was so good the tortilla was nice and warm, the meat was perfectly seasoned. I was a happy kid.

Everything was as it had always been as the sun rose that morning. The city began to stir as it grew light, and in an hour there were carts and people filling the streets. Down at the shipyards people carried out their business just like they had every day before. In the castle the guards and servants went about their duties. It was peaceful, as it had been for a hundred years.