Immigrants leaving their country are often misunderstood by people, especially in America. People often don’t understand immigrant stories due to lack of exposure to people from diverse backgrounds and they don’t believe that immigrants are in danger when they leave their own country. These perceptions lead to the belief that immigrants take jobs from locals and milk the system. Many believe that immigrants don’t work and just claim welfare checks and get SNAP benefits from the government.

We can further understand these misconceptions with the article, “Abandoned Vans of Atlanta” entire communities have been changed by the new Trump administration. The communities are being changed because there is no one to fill jobs that immigrants once took. More importantly immigrants are living in fear of being arrested by ICE. This fear does not only affect the parents but also their children who may be documented Americans. In the town of Atlanta, as the article states, “Once engines of economic opportunity, the vans are now tombstones for the disappeared. In the counties that make up metropolitan Atlanta, immigration-related arrests have spiked over the last two years, as ICE and local law enforcement agencies have moved to vigorously enforce immigration law at the behest of the Trump administration.” In essence the Trump administration has changed the whole make up of the town and with this how the people of Atlanta look at immigrants. The fear that immigrants feel is driven by the average American’s lack of understanding of the immigrant story.

We learn more about the immigrant story in the article “What It is like to be a migrant in the age of Trump.” We can begin to see how the perception of others affect the immigrant experience. A quote from this article is “Rosa’s problem hadn’t started with the gangs, but with her husband. He drank, and when he was drunk enough he liked to beat up Rosa. One night, earlier in the summer, he came home and beat her up again. For Rosa, it was the last straw. She took her two kids and left. He begged her to come home, but she refused. Then, desperate, he swallowed poison, was taken to the hospital and died.” Her brother-in law, who was a gang member blamed her for his death and she had to escape. On the surface people would see this as a woman not leaving to save her life but leaving her husband for selfish reasons and possibly to come to America just for an easier life. What we see on the surface is not always the reality. However, it has become easier for people in America to just look at the surface. People only the headlines or small pieces of social media and don’t really process the real story. Another source called “A Migrant’s Story from a Greek island” verified this idea of people making assumptions about peoples’ stories. This documentary is set in Greece and it has interviews with tourists who visit the island who meet with Syrian refugees and talk about their stories. It is clear that the tourist’s initial ideas about the Syrian refugees is different then their reality. People’s misperception of the immigrant plight appears to not just happen in America.

 In the article “Feds detain nearly 600 in Mis. plant raid” we learn about the largest workplace immgration raid in US history. Over 600 workers who where undocumented were arrested. We see a picture of a crying eleven year old girl who is sobbing for her dad's release. Her hand is tilted she is wearing a pink and white shirt. She is sobbing into her hands and is clearly very distressed. More images in the article show parents being led away in handcuffs by ICE workers. The NPR article further discusses how the town has come together to support these workers and their children left behind, even though it is a town where 60% of the population voted for Trump. Even though many are supportive of the families, there is a divide and  many also believe that immigrants who are undocumented should not be given anything and should not be supported because they should not be in America in the first place. One person said, “There are a lot of people here needing help who are legal.” Those who think this way seem not to understand that these immigrants had jobs, paid bills and had kids being educated in the local schools. This event really shows the divide between what people believe about immigrants and how those beliefs can affect how immigrants are treated. 

A contrast to these stories is a video called “Migration is Beautiful.” We hear about immigrants who give back to their community, the power of activism, the power of art, and the power of media. This is often an overlooked aspect of the benefit of immigrants and what they can do to help this country. It is rare that we hear or read about this side of immigrant story. This leads you to wonder, why? Why don’t we hear about all the good immigrants bring? All the wonder and creativity? It also fails to recognise that America was built by immigrants.

 In conclusion, it is very clear that even though we can live, work and have our kids educated in schools next to immigrant families, we rarely understand the struggles that they have. We do not understand the fear of thinking you might be arrested or being returned to a country where you might have been afraid for your life. It is also clear that many believe that immigrants who come here, documented or not documented, just want to live off the government and not bother learning English, getting educated or working. These misperceptions can be fostered by government policy and these policies can create fear among the people who live in America. 

Citations

“Feds Detain Nearly 600 in Miss. Plant Raid.” NBCNews.com, NBCUniversal News Group, 26 Aug. 2008, http://www.nbcnews.com/id/26410407/ns/us_news-crime_and_courts/t/feds-detain-nearly-miss-plant-raid/#.XhfOx0dKjD4.

“Migrants’ Stories From a Greek Island.” The New York Times, The New York Times, 29 Feb. 2016, https://www.nytimes.com/video/multimedia/100000004237409/migrants-stories-from-a-greek-island.html.

Moss, Jesse. “The Abandoned Vans of Atlanta.” The New York Times, The New York Times, 7 May 2019, https://www.nytimes.com/2019/05/07/opinion/ice-immigration-atlanta.html.

Pulitzercenter. “This Is What It’s Like to Be a Migrant in the Age of Trump.” Pulitzer Center, 26 Oct. 2018, https://pulitzercenter.org/reporting/what-its-be-migrant-age-trump?utm_source=Email&utm_medium=newsletter&utm_campaign=10302018.

Shapiro, Ari, et al. “Months After Massive ICE Raid, Residents Of A Mississippi Town Wait And Worry.” NPR, NPR, 17 Nov. 2019, https://www.npr.org/2019/11/17/778611834/months-after-massive-ice-raid-residents-of-a-mississippi-town-wait-and-worry.

YouTube, YouTube, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LWE2T8Bx5d8.

On the US border in the South of California near Tijuana, you can see many immigrants crowding around the steel barriers to get into the United States. From the distance, you can see the steel beam fences standing 26 feet tall preventing immigrants from entering illegally into the United States. Barbed wires placed in front of the steel beam fences as reinforcement. On the United States side behind the steel beam fences, you can see the American flag tied to a pole flying in the wind. You can also see spotlights and surveillance cameras in the vicinity. Thousands of immigrants line up across the border near the steel fences and barbed wire. Then a can of tear gas was shot into the crowd near a mother and her two young girls. She helps pull them away from the tear gas as the girls, one without any proper footwear, and the other with sandals, started to run with their mother. This is just one of the many things that many nonimmigrant people don’t understand about the immigration process. They often don’t understand the things that immigrants experience as they travel to America and settle into American soil. Specifically, their thoughts and internal emotions are misinterpreted and/or not taken into consideration.

One thing that people do not understand is how much work immigrants have to do to come to America. Most Americans do not understand the struggles that immigrants have to go through as they make their way to the United States. We assume that immigrants and migrants just simply obtain their documentation, walk up to the border, get everything checked out and are then able to live in the United States. We fail to realize and ask ourselves what did it take for them to come to America and what drives them to come to America. Immigrants and foreigners coming to live in America all have different reasons why they came to America. Some came to America to start new lives, for educational opportunities, for family, or they are fleeing from violence. Americans only know the stories of immigrants coming in by boat or plane for a new life but the stories of the risky and dangerous journey to travel to America is not widely known. In Enrique’s Journey by Sonia Nazario, the author decides to take this journey with Enrique to find his mother in the United States. In the prologue, she explains how she will travel in Enrique’s footsteps and manage the constant fear of gangs and bandits on the train and at border checkpoints coming to beat, rob, and/or rape her. Not only gangs but environmental factors were also dangers as anything could cause her to fall off the train and run her over. Corrupt government officials can be spotted robbing migrants as well. After the journey, she goes home with trauma and suffers from intense internal emotions. This experience shows her a different side of what it is like to be an immigrant. It is not a simple one and done story but it a complexity of different stories that we need to view in multiple lense and not only through one lens. It is not a simple one answer question but a variety of different experiences that we have to take into consideration.

Although immigrants move to America for better opportunities and a better quality of life, most immigrants often think about home. Immigrants, especially those who are older, have a strong connection to their homes. They had established a life in their home country ever since they were a kid. They know their country better than anyone who hasn’t lived and experienced it for most of their childhood. Moving away to start life in a new environment and a different culture is intimidating. It takes a lot of time to adjust to that change, but what will not go away is the feeling of being far away from where they had grown up. An example of this nostalgic feeling of home can be found in Behold The Dreamers a novel by Imbolo Mbue. From pages 37-46, the main character, Jende is driving Clark, his boss, back to the office from DC when Clark asks Jende about what his home country, Limbe, was like. Jende delivers a rich description of Limbe with a nostalgic, reminiscent tone. He describes it as he misses his home. When Clark asks Jende why he moves back to America, he had a hard time answering the question and gave very vague and generic answers. The way he describes Limbe was heavily contrasted with his details about why Limbe is a bad place. Clark also talks about his past before he came to New York. He talked about his Illinois childhood home and talks about his childhood life in Illinois and the way in which he misses his home. As you can see, immigrants also have the same feelings and emotions like a normal person being away from home. People think that immigrants do not miss their homes at all. Those immigrants want to forget their home country and where they came from. As humans, we all have a strong connection to where we all once grew up from and immigrants have that same connection as well.

Finally, people have misconceptions about the countries that immigrants have come from. We see it in the media all the time where third-world countries are in constant conflict and turmoil. When we hear and see video clips about this, we build up this stereotype that these places that people are immigrating from are just terrible places. What we fail to understand is how once these places were actually lively. In the Sea Prayer: a 360 degree illustrated film by award-winning novelist Khaled Hosseini; it shows a 360 video of a father narrating to his son on their life in Syria before the war and then to the unknown future. In the 360 films, you can see the illustrations of their farmhouse on the riverside, the beautiful old city with a mosque and a church, and the city center. Then it went into ruins and chaos where they finally ended up on a beach with a father carrying a son about to board a boat to embark on their journey to escape the violence. In the video, the narrator describes life before the war and the violence was peaceful. Olive trees blowing in the wind, the cool air and the sun in the morning at their farmhouse surrounded by livestock grazing in the fields with wildflowers. The crowded lively city with a mosque and a church where they would walk to the clock tower. The quote that stuck with me was when the narrator said: “But that life, that time, seems like a sham now, even to me, like some long dissolved rumor” (time maker 1:55). He means that those peaceful times and the beautiful landscape is hard for people to believe now when all they hear about now is war and bombings happening in their own city. Hardly anyone will believe that these places once had a beautiful thriving environment. From an external point of view, we only see one side of the story. We fail to see the other side of it.

People tend to misunderstand the experiences of immigrants. An American typically only looks at an immigrant’s situation externally rather than diving deeper to try and understand what goes on internally. We create a lot of assumptions about immigration based on one general story. We need to start thinking about immigration not as a simple topic, but as a complex of ideas and emotions. We have to learn from different people’s perspectives. By learning from the perspective of an immigrant, we can come together as people and understand how we can improve our system by learning about the experiences of immigrants.

Works Cited: Nazario, Sonia. Enrique’s Journey. Random House Trade Paperbacks, 2014.

Mbue, Imbolo. Behold the Dreamers: a Novel. Random House Inc, 2017.

Hosseini, Khaled, director. Sea Prayer: a 360 Illustrated Film by Award-Winning Novelist Khaled Hosseini. YouTube, YouTube, 31 Aug. 2017, www.youtube.com/watch?v=LKBNEEY-c3s.

Introduction to my advanced essay:

My goal for this essay is to highlight how foreigners have to adapt to their new lives when they migrate. While doing this they often sacrifice aspects of their old lives so they can make the most of their new lives. This shouldn’t be the case. They should be able to come to new places and not have to change their identity. I’m proud of my analysis because I feel like they turned out strong and supported my thesis.

                    Advanced Essay #3: Adaption

An image shows two little boys riding tricycles in a refugee camp. The refugee camp is located in southern Athens at the old international airport. The boy in the back is wearing white shoes that are too big for him. He’s walking while holding an orange and black tricycle carefully through the road. The boy in front of him is riding a pink and purple tricycle that was meant for a girl. He has no shoes on but is focused on riding the tricycle. The boys are riding the tricycles in what looks to be the parking lot of the airport. In the background, there are two tents. This image, like many others, shows how refugees have to adapt to their circumstances. Refugees leave their lives and are required to start over. Even though the refugees are at a camp they are trying to make the best of the situation and form a functioning way of living. The kids are adapting to their circumstances just by the fact that they are trying to have fun even though they are at an unfamiliar place. As mentioned before, one kid has shoes that are too big for him and another has no shoes on at all. If you ever rode a bike before you know those small things are not the conditions in which you should be riding a bike in, yet the kids are trying to make the most of what they have and still find a way to have fun at a place like a refugee came. What most people don’t understand about this is refugees have to get rid of aspects of their old life to adapt to their new lives. circumstances.

Another example is in the article A Return to Nigeria. The author describes her personal experience of living in Nigeria, moving back to the United States, and then going back to Nigeria. The author describes how moving back to the United States made her change things about her identity. The article says, “Coming of age in foreign classrooms, my sister and I slowly shed our native skins. We let teachers mangle our names then adopted their mispronunciations- introducing ourselves with syllables our own relatives tripped over.” This evidence shows how the author and her sister adjusted to American culture. Instead of correcting the teachers they allowed them to mess up their names and they even accepted the mispronunciations. The girls were trying to adapt to their new culture so they get rid of certain aspects of their identity to fit into American culture. Examples of foreigners changing their names or adopting an Americanized name is common when foreigners migrate to America. The author even points out that their relatives tripped over the new syllables but that didn’t make her change her name back due to the fact that she wanted to adjust to American culture, so life could be easier and they could fit in. The reality of this is if someone wants to make it in America they have to have an Americanized name. Someone’s success shouldn’t be based on how their name sounds.

In the book Behold the Dreamers, we are introduced to a family that is from Cameroon and move to New York for better opportunities. The family is then challenged when their source of income is affected by the financial crisis. Neni enjoyed the New York life. She easily adapted to life in New York. She and her friend Fatou went shopping in Chinatown for designer bags like Gucci (even though they were fakes) so she could fit the new status quo. On Page 11 “Neni said to Fatou as they walked through Chinatown looking for make-believe Gucci and Versace bags.” This shows how Neni adapted to life in New York by trying to look the part. She tried to look the part by getting designer bags because most people who live in America have some type of designer items. Even though the bags weren’t real she still got it to look the part, hence her trying to be like an American. This highlights how Neni wanted to get rid of her old appearance to fit an American’s appearance.

Another example from Behold the Dreamers is when times started getting rough for the Jongas, Jende started taking his anger out on Neni. They would argue more, but Neni didn’t allow him to talk to her how he wanted. Neni and one of her friends talked about it and said how Neni just had to accept things. On page 311 “No matter what women in this country do, she went on we African woman must stand behind the husband and be following them and say yes, yes. That we African women must do. We no gunno say to husband no, I no gunno do it.” This evidence shows how Neni was starting to adapt to American culture. Nani started to stand up for herself against Jende which isn’t something common that African women did. When Jende tries to order Neni around she starts to act like an “American Woman” by challenging what he says, which is something that Africana women weren’t supposed to do. She adapts by adjusting to how America’s family dynamics are and not following how Africans are. She sacrifices her obeying attitude and starts to stand up for herself. This leads to their family dynamic changing.

People tend to overlook the fact that migrants have to adapt. When they do adapt it causes them to have to get rid of aspects from their old lives. Which is wrong because no one should have to sacrifice aspects of their identity to fit in somewhere

Work Cited:

16 Children – 16 Photos: Click the Black Background and Switch on Their Reality. Politiken, 28 Feb. 2017, politiken.dk/fotografier/art5849931/Click-the-black-background-and-switch-on-their-reality. Accessed 13 Jan. 2020.

Okoro, Enuma. “A Return to Nigeria.” Opinionator, //opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2014/04/23/a-return-to-nigeria/. Accessed 14 Jan. 2020.

Mbue, Imbolo. Behold the Dreamers: a Novel. Random House Inc, 2017.

Hamid, Mohsin. Exit West. Penguin Random House, 2017.

Aidan McLaughlin

Mr. Block

English 3

Essay #1

September 22, 2019

         I started playing soccer when I was 11 years old. The moment I stepped on the field I knew it was the sport for me. It was the only time I felt fully at peace with myself and with life. It was an action-packed sport, yet somehow it soothed me. Plus the constant running made it hard for my ADD to get the better of me, unlike boring baseball. Over the past 8 years, my experiences on the field have shaped the player I am today.
         Anticipating a shot from the opposing team I stand on the sprayed white line on the dark green field between two posts. I wish the game wasn't tied. I wish I wasn't the keeper, I wish it hadn't made it to shootouts. I wish it wasn't the final game of the playoffs. I wish, I wish, I wish. Before my team shared the pressure together. Now, I hold the entire outcome of the game and that fate of my own team in my hands and feet. Waiting for the shriek of the Ref’s whistle, I feel the need to escape and run back to my brick row home two blocks away from the field. 
       “Twwwwwwwt” the whistle sounded interrupting my thoughts. The sleek 2012 world cup ball cut through the air. I Jumped, but missed. It was over, we had lost and it was because of me. 
         I remember choking back the tears after the game. I remembered my other teammates crying and felt that it was all my fault. I could never fail my team like that again. I had to step up and make sure that I would never let my team down again. Never again!
My breath was visible in the brisk fall air. The trees around the field had begun to change to vibrant red, yellow, and brown hues. I kicked my feet in the dusty ground that had once been a green field. The clouds that arose from the ground reminded me of my breath. I was uncomfortable and unhappy with my placement on the field. I wanted to be up top again scoring goals and making runs, especially since this was a playoff game and our team, Spain, was down by one. Most of all, I want to redeem myself for my failure the previous year. I felt the team giving up,  discouraged by the repeated failed attempts to score a goal. 
         “Keep the intensity, let's win this”! I shout out trying to brighten their spirits. 

I could feel the eyes of the enthusiastic and sometimes enraged parents on the back of my neck and it made my hair stand tall, like a cat confronted by one of its own. The ball was rolling toward me and I ran to greet it past half field. I kicked it with all my strength, my vision only trained on one thing, the goal. I turned around and began my shameful walk back to my side, the ball looked high. I subtle swush indicated that it went in and then a less subtle, “Aidan you did it” yelled by my teammate Gabe who rushed toward me at freight train speed. His excitement was matched by an overwhelming and frantic yelling booming from the sideline. The game was tied. Even though we ended up winning that game, I didn’t feel satisfied. Not with myself. I wanted to be the best; however, I no longer wanted to do it for myself. Well, maybe because I was scared. “Ref how much time is left?” I impatiently asked. “Five minutes,” he responded. The air was heavy with wet heat. I felt the cold beads of sweat escape my pores and roll off my nose and checks, leaving gray splotches on my white dirt stained jersey. My feet, hugged by black and orange cleats, were burning from the heat radiating off the field. The dark green synthetic grass had little black rubbery dots that held the sun’s rays. Looking left and then right I saw the red track surrounding the turf, my dad, my dog, my coach, and my team, decorated in the same white and blue I wore. My attention was swifty grabbed by the red and black jerseys, worn by strangers, weaving through our players. One broke through. My adrenaline forced me to run quicker than I ever had. Things slowed down, I was on his heels. He was split between me and the un-admittedly concussed keeper. I couldn’t let him reach him. My defensive instincts kicked in. My mind was shouting one thing, protect. This team is my family! I firmly grab his shoulder and peel him down like paint off a wall. Immediately the high pitched whistle pierces the air and engulfs my ears. A penalty in the bo was called against me. This was my worst fear, I had let down my team again. I was four years older, but the same 12 year old me walked off the field that day. I thought I was protecting, but I hadn’t. The MVP trophy I received after the season meant nothing to me because I did not see myself as MVP. The gold and blue statue topped with a soccer player mocked me. The congratulations of my teammates only served to remind me that I was a failure. Why had I tried to be at the front of laps during practice? Why had I tried so hard? I will forever strive to be the best, but I will never be satisfied not only in soccer, but because of soccer it now is a part of who I am in my everyday life.

Introduction

With this essay, my goal was to convey how I felt about situations I have been through at the moment, versus how I feel about them now. I wanted to show how my opinions have changed as well as how I have changed as a person over time. I’m really proud of how I was able to show moments in my life, as well as how I was able to analyze and break down those situations. One of the ways that I would improve next time would be to plan out exactly what I was going to say in what order. Overall I am pretty proud of this essay.

The first time I was ever approached on the street was while I was waiting for the bus in 6th grade. An older man, in his late thirties, stopped me and said, “I just wanted to let you know that you are so beautiful.” I had no idea what to say, so I just said a confused, “Thank you,” and the man walked away. I was 11 years old, wearing a gray turtleneck and jeans. The situation didn’t exactly scare me; I didn’t feel threatened. For a while, I was pretty flattered, but over time that flattery turned into anger. Not at the man himself, but at the conditions that made him feel like what he said was okay and that something like that would be flattering and not super creepy. In a way, I was also angry with myself. That I had smiled and said thank you, that I had boosted this man’s ego and allowed him to think that what he had said was ok. If I could go back, I would have simply told him my age and allowed him to deal with that information. Throughout middle school, people never really expressed to me that I was pretty. The only validation I got was from the occasional creepy man on the bus I took home every day or someone calling out to me from their car. As scary as those situations were, they also felt new and exciting and grown-up, like now I was invited into the real woman’s club. When I was 14, my mother and I went to the thrift store one day after school. While I was looking through the men’s t-shirt section, a man who looked to be in his sixties came up to me. He started making conversation, asking me if I had found anything good yet. I answered his question and continued making conversation with him. It’s pretty common for older people to talk to me in public. I’m unintimidating, short, young, a girl, all these qualities make me seem approachable. The man and I continued talking until out of nowhere he looked at me straight in the eyes and mumbled: “I live alone just around the block.” I was confused as to why he had said this, so I nodded and went back to looking through the shirts. The man, in a slightly angry voice, restated what he said before, “I live alone just around the block.” Now I understood. All I could think of to say was “I’m here with my mom,” to him, this must-have seemed encouraging because he then said, “Well I can give you my phone number.” At that moment, my flight mode kicked in. I fast-walked away from him and found my mom in another aisle. I whispered what had happened and we left. I tell that story to a lot of people, In my mind, it’s something interesting that has happened to me in my life. In my opinion, if something scary is going to happen to you, at least make a good story out of it, and for a while, I held onto that story like a prized possession. Something about it had oddly flattered me and I couldn’t say why, but I knew that that situation would stick with me forever. It wasn’t until recently that I realized how I was feeling was normal. I was scrolling on Instagram when I saw a post that said: “When you are so used to being catcalled that when you aren’t, you feel like you look ugly that day.” I realized that the way that catcalling made me feel was the way it made a lot of women feel. From a young age, I was conditioned to believe that the only way men were going to find me attractive was if they could view me as a sexual object. Not as a peer or equal. So when I was catcalled or harassed, while I was scared, I also felt complimented, because, in my mind, it was all the attention based on looks I was ever going to get. Over time, I was able to get over the way I was feeling, but it wasn’t easy. It took a lot of personal reflection, therapy, and eventually, medication to get to a place in my life where I didn’t feel like I needed the validation of others to feel attractive or wanted. As I got older, I was exposed to more romantic experiences that I asked for, which helped me realize what I wanted and deserved out of relationships. When I told my mom what the man had said to me at the thrift store, she got extremely angry and wanted to go over and scream at him, but I begged her not too. Now, I wish I had let her. I wish I had taken a picture of him, I wish I had found his workplace and called them. I wish I could make him feel as embarrassed, scared, and small as he had made me feel.

Everyone is living and breathing in real time but not many people live in the moment for much longer than a couple minutes. Enjoying your time right now in this instant is important because you will never experience that moment again. There is no redoing decisions of any matter if they’re in the past. No matter how much we want to go back to a specific moment and do something differently you simply can’t. People should see this as the biggest incentive to be present at all times, be aware of your surroundings and be ready to react in a way that keeps you safe. Quick and frequent decision making can often times result in injury, especially when you’re on the cycle. There are a couple instances in specific where if only the rider made a slightly different decision they would have came out unscaved. I’m just glad the homie alive. Little banged up but he’ll live. My first thought was anger, what just happened had ruined our trip and I knew that the moment it happened. I think that fact settled in for the rest of the group once we got back to the house but I knew how it was about to be from the moment it happened. The ride back was quiet, everyone still a little shocked. I saw him run the light thinking what is he doing? I knew it wasn’t a go and yet he still barrelled on through the intersection, reading the traffic completely wrong. It only took two more milliseconds for the beamer to t-bone him in the middle of the street for everyone else to bare witness. At first I carried on about a block past that street. I was processing, then headed back to investigate. Heading back over to the scene was the scariest part, he could be dead for all I knew. The car was humming through that light and he got hit with the full blow. I’ve been hit off my bike before but never anything like that. Once I got over there I was relieved to find out all his senses were working and he was on his feet. We made sure everything was alright with both sides of the party and just like that went on our way. Easy come easy go has been an interesting theme that seems to be present throughout life. At least it is so far for me and most people I know. Just as easily as something can be acquired it can be stripped from you as if it was never there. Thats what happened to that beautiful Bianchi super pista. My friend had just bought it and had it to sport around not even a month before he completely totaled it at an intersection around city hall. I felt bad for him. I would have been devastated had that happened to me. The bike was a piecing race-red with the bianchi blue lettering and had polished tubes that merged together seamlessly, even a nice shiny sugino 75 crank. All that destroyed by a little slip up. I wasn’t with him when this happened but hearing that news was horrible. It sounds extreme but it really did feel like hearing news of someone’s death. My heart sank. At the time I was riding fixed but my mount was nothing near the value of that ride so loss of that image was painful to see someone else go through. A learning experience nonetheless. Conveying that riding a bike is dangerous is not the point of this essay but instead showing how riding a bike through and urban area is much like the path your life takes you down. There are plenty of unexpected obstacles and unwanted pressure but you just keep going. Of course there is so much that can go wrong, that fact will always be present. What’s more important than that however is that you always have the ability to avoid whatever went wrong. The only thing is you can’t go back and try it again; you have to be conscious enough to realize what’s about to go wrong in order to prevent it.

Introduction; When writing this essay, it took a couple of tries until I found a topic that actually came from me. I knew from the beginning that I wanted to write about the time when I visited Mexico for the first time, but I wasn’t sure exactly what I wanted the takeaway to be. For the second scene, I found myself lost, now knowing how to connect my ideas, but then something clicked in my head I knew I could write about when I got chosen to go to Ecuador in 7th grade. I knew that many people don’t get the chance to travel, let alone so young and both of those trips were unlike and similar in many ways. Life in Central America was very unlike our day to day in the U.S. I felt proud being able to share my experiences in this essay, because I got to tell a little about my origins and my thoughts on life. One way I would like to improve my writing technique is to use more sensory details, like I tried doing in this essay, but also being able to describe what I’m thinking at the time and paint the setting for the reader.

As I stepped my first foot onto the Motherland, it felt known but new. Then both a woman and man of similar complexion to mine greeted us saying, “Bienvenidos” I do a slight smirk and greet them back accordingly. My heart raced, as I’ve been told from stories to stay on high alert, my mother said numerous times before I left, ” When you arrive talk to no one except the people you know, the police can’t even be trusted at times.” Mexico has one of the highest crime rates in Latin America.I always observed my surroundings for any alarming behavior. I walked slowly letting everyone lead the way, greeting everyone with just an ever so slightly smirk, never speaking. I continued to follow the crowd out to the luggage claim, identifying my bright pink suitcase from across the room, still always being on the lookout. I struggled to carry all my belongings as if I was going away for months when in reality it was only 2 weeks. As I walked across the ceiling high revolving doors, I felt my face light up as I spotted my family from the end of the hall, I rushed with open arms rushing into theirs, struggling to run with all my luggage. I yelled, “Abuelitos!” My heart felt at home again. They continued to ask me endless questions on how my trip was, as we made our way “home”. I crowded onto the backseat of the car with all my luggage, my eyes glued to the window not knowing where to look, I couldn’t believe it I was finally here, the place I’ve heard about my whole life, where my parents had grown up. Everything wasn’t so magical as we passed tall skyscrapers, apartments, federal buildings, city houses and a zoo. I couldn’t help but notice the same thing at every corner children on the streets selling bracelets, candies, cd’s and food. These children should be in school but instead their out on the streets day and night for some spare change just to survive. As we continued on our way to Puebla, roughly a 2 hour drive. I noticed as we got closer no skyscrapers, no apartments, no city houses, all you saw for miles was green and for as far as you can look that’s all you saw, but there was one thing right in the center, Iztaccihuatl the sleeping lady, an inactive volcano . Having heard so many stories about this volcano it made it seem as if I was just seeing it once more. The uneven dirt roads led to the main streets, houses parallel to each other, each house labeled with name tags. The boys played soccer with each other, barefoot. Women coming home from the market holding the groceries on their heads heading home. This places was unlike anything I’ve experienced before. Then a year later, a letter arrived at my house saying, “ Hillary Hernandez you have been one of the chosen students to go to Ecuador,” my dad read out loud. I yelled with excitement, I couldn’t believe it in a couple months I would be traveling to a different continent with 13 of my classmates. Then the day came, I didn’t know how to feel I was feeling a rush of different emotions, I was ecstatic that I had gotten this extraordinary opportunity but frantic at the same time. I was going into this new environment and culture I knew nothing of. As we said goodbye to our parents, tears started to run down my face, for a slight second I thought about just going back with them and not going anymore, but I knew that wasn’t an option. After a lengthy 9 hour flight, we landed in Quito, the capital of Ecuador. We boarded onto a bus to the hostel, house lights we’re the only thing leading the way at 3am. My head rocked back and forth as I forced myself to stay awake, but ended up caving, since I hadn’t slept the whole flight. My anxiety kept me up watching endless movies. On the first day, we visited an orphanage on the slum part of Quito. I couldn’t help but notice that Quito had a lot of similarities to Mexico, kids sold candies on the street and washed cars windows for some spare change. I didn’t know how these kids would react to foreigners coming in, but all we wanted was to bring them joy with gifts and volunteer work. The first girl I had met there was a 14 year girl named Isabell, she told me her story about being raped by her stepfather and getting kicked out of her house then for a while she was living on the streets before getting taken in by the orphanage. I felt the tears go down my face with such frustration and empathy, but here stood this girl in front of me telling me her story with no emotion, as if she was used to it or it was her fault. The sad thing is that she wasn’t the only one with a similar story. When I look back at my time I spent in both Mexico and Ecuador, and I see the struggle of the corrupted system and I praise my parents for their sacrifice and courage on how much my parents had to go through, just to get to where they are today. They grew up with absolutely nothing back home and they had to come to a foreign land as a necessity for a better future one back home couldn’t offer. They’ve taught me that money isn’t everything, that when their grandmother couldn’t buy them something she would just make it and that made her cherish is 100x more. My experiences in both of these countries made me realize that I look selfish for taking for granted even the smallest things like having a roof to live under or having an education and food on the table every day.I look around and realize that not just me but us as a society take things for granted everyday or make fun of those who don’t have as much as us. That we are always eager to post our newest stuff and show them off. That if he has 10 pairs of shoes, I need 20 pairs. That we all just feel like we have to be superior to the other.
These experiences at such a young age, made me look at the world differently because whenever I want more and more, I think back to all those kids who might not have a small percentage of what I have. Although there are times when I don’t go by this, I hope that as I get older I become more and more grateful for my parents sacrifice and to be grateful for what I have and not distressed for what I don’t