Personal Narrative: I Am An Illegal Immigrant

When we’re kids, we don’t have a single worry in the world. Our priorities are going to school and getting along with the rest of the kids on the playground. We don’t have to worry about taxes, or being judged (for the most part), paying bills, etc. So when do we reach the point where the real world comes in and kicks us in the behind? When do we come to realize who we really are and what our position is in this world? For me, the real world introduced itself at a very young age. And unfortunately I didn’t really understand what was going on at the moment. But for my parents, the situation was quite clear. I became a victim of bullying and racist comments. My life could have its own novel with the sheer amount of events that took place. For
The answers were similar for the most part, “I was born here and grew up here for most of my life.” It got quite interesting when it was my turn. Although I don’t exactly care for telling my story, there’s always that little voice in the back of my mind telling me not to do it because I would be judged. Words cannot describe the faces of my classmates when I told them I was born in Mexico and was brought here to the United States when I was 2 years old. That’s right, I am an illegal immigrant. What is an illegal immigrant? Technically it means moving from one country to another without obeying the proper immigration laws. And while I understand this very clearly now, I had no idea that something like this could follow me for the rest of my life when I was younger. I was brought here to the United States when I was two years old from a small town about 1 hour from Mexico City. My mother came over here first while I was waiting with my dad in a city near the US border. I actually wasn’t aware of what had happened to her. She decided that it was best if she stayed quiet. I couldn’t help but burst into tears when she told me that she had been caught at the border by border patrol. She was taken to a building where they had other people arrested. She described what she
That getting a job and proper schooling was going to be simple. Unfortunately for them, they were wrong. When you think of the American dream what comes to mind? A nice house, a well-paid job, a strong family, and the ability to move up and live a better life. We first started our journey in the states in the scorching hot state of Arizona. I was very young at the time so I don’t remember much but what I did remember was how much we moved. In Arizona alone we lived in about 5 houses and I was forced to transfer schools twice before fifth grade and 3 times during my fifth grade year. Unfortunately for my father the economy was bad and we had to mortgage our house and move to Nevada. In Nevada we lived in 4 different houses and I went to 2 different middle schools and 1 high school before we had to move states. AGAIN. Our journey finally brought us to the state of