I lived in 3 different houses till I moved out of my parents’ house. Every time we moved the house got bigger with a new addition to the family. Our last house was a 7 bedroom, 2-story house. I have 3 other siblings, Jodi who is 3 years younger, Jane who is 6 years younger and Jim who is 15 years younger than me and 2 dogs. I always thought both of my sisters were more talented, more pretty and smarter than I was and I never got to know my brother very well till later in life because of our large age difference. Both of my parents got a college education, and for women in that time that was rare. My dad, James Torrey worked in an insurance company, and he always felt distant to me. My mom, Hetty Bixby Torrey never really had a job but she joined a lots of committees and participated in volunteer work. Don’t forget she had to take care of me and my siblings too.…
As a child I never really noticed that my life was just a slight different from other “normal girls.” My family and my neighborhood had always been filled with many families that were similar to ours. So seeing how my life had been filled with many Hispanic and Latinos around me at all times I never thought of how others would view our many traditions. I would say that like many Hispanics we see our crazy, dancing, fun-loving families as the norm. However after many moves and many changes of friends I started start to notice that the way my family was…
Her father was a world war 2 veteran who loved to travel, so their family traveled a lot. One of her favorite trips that she would go on was to Tijuana, Mexico to visit with her aunt Joan and uncle Juan at the orphanage. Her family would also take some of the kids back to Holland with them for a month or so at a time to let them see what America was like. The boys names were Pepe, Ramon, Christian, Antonio, Pablo, and Danny. Her Aunt Joan picked which boys she thought would be the best for traveling to the United states. Before they came Joan made a cassette tape recording of some basic Spanish to English translated words. The boys were taken to the beach to see Lake Michigan, local parks to play on the playgrounds, and a cottage on an inland lake were they went boating and fishing. In the winter the boys went sledding and even got to sled behind my grandpa's car through the neighborhood. They enjoyed taking the boys shopping and buying them clothes and toys for their time in America. She said how the kids were so amazed to even see grass in the lawns because where they were from it was mostly gravel and dirt. The kids were also amazed to experience what snow was like because they had never seen a real winter before. The boys had so many questions and things to say about America. Most of them were around the ages of 4-12 and had never really known who their parents were. Now, after more than…
Two of the families the writer interviewed shared similar values when it comes to health maintenance. One family was of the Hispanic background and the other family was of the American Indian background. Each of these families placed values in their family relationships as well as their support system and their overall health maintenance. Both families expressed about the relationships of their extended family. They met with their family at least once a week and had big family dinners. They did not just get together for holidays or big celebrations. As Askim-Lovesth & Aldana puts it into words, “in an extended family network all family members are expected to help each other during difficult times, and provide aid in case of health or financial problems” (Askim-Lovseth & Aldana, 2010). Each of these cultures did just that, they used their family as a shoulder to lean on.…
At around 10 years of age my family and I were coming out of a store when we heard an individual yell out, “Go back to Mexico, America houses no aliens!” At that moment, I felt as if this wouldn’t be the last time I would hear these words echo through my life, and I was right.…
expresses strong cultural values as a Latino woman. She identified her step mom as a White American. Although she said that she currently have a good relationship with her stepmom now, she did however, disclose that during her middle and high school years she was mischievous and bitter toward her stepmom. She mentions that because her dad was always working, there was a cut down on custody time and felt as though her dad chose her stepmom over her and her sister. She also mentions that she was kicked out of her dad’s and stepmom’s house when she was 18-years-old. She discuss that even though her White American stepmom did not teach her how to make enchiladas, she did however learn how to bake cakes and pies because of her…
Family is very important to the Mexican Americans. Their focus is mainly on their Grandparents, especially the Grandmothers. Grandmothers are the ones that cook the meals, read stories and help to heal them when they are ill.…
My journey began 10 years ago, when my family moved to the United States. Family friends that already made the move from Bulgaria to America, tried to explain what it would be like on the other side of the ocean but failed to do so.…
The tapping on the wood door was enormous in the silence. Shocked out of my solitude, I pushed myself up from the couch and heaved open the door. Silhouetted against the light was a dark-haired woman with a girl clinging to her skirt. I knew who she was. My landlady had told me about the woman I had seen picking up mail at the post office. She'd called her "The Prize."…
Coming from a low income Hispanic family, I’ve had to overcome different challenges. One thing I recall from my childhood, was enjoying myself from reality. Reality in which no child knows about life and death, bad news and good news, or right from wrong. I still remember when I was upset for quite some time for not celebrating my first birthday party at the age of 4. Instead, at 4 years old, I had to spent my birthday and week at a funeral praying up to two weeks. But then I was finally triggered at the age of 9 when I found out that the man I saw in his casket years ago was no stranger, it was my father. I grew up thinking my father had abandoned my mother and siblings, but never did I consider such thing. As time went by I did not think…
“We gotta prove to the Mexicans how Mexican we are, and we gotta prove to the Americans how American we are, we gotta be more Mexican than the Mexicans and more American than the Americans, both at the same time. It’s exhausting,” this is a quote from the movie Selena. Throughout my life, I’ve dealt with a lot of obstacles, but one I seem to continue to deal with is knowing my cultural heritage. I am a Mexican-American. Every day I have to deal with the struggles of not fully understanding what being a Mexican-American means. There are days I’m with family and they speak to me in Spanish. Of course, I respond, but I respond with Spanglish. They look at me either laughing or angry and say “Que? No eres Mexicana? Hablame en Español! What? Are you not a Mexican? Speak to me in Spanish!” It is frustrating because they know my parents do not Spanish-speaking to me in Spanish 100% of the time, not even 50% of the time, yet I’m to blame. This quote is every Mexican-American struggle. They are faced to choose who they are based on what they Every day. The reality is, I can’t choose one side because I am both.…
educationally and family perceptions that they are rejecting traditional family norms and values by being in college (Kuh, Kinzie, Buckley & Hayek, 2006).…
I am a part of the growing population of people of mixed descent, and am both privileged and punished by relating to my Mexican heritage but not resembling the stereotypical Hispanic. Most people aren't aware, even in these times, that you can be Hispanic whether you are as white as paper or as dark as its ashes. I have grown up privy to all the privileges of a comfortable lifestyle, typically among Caucasians, both in my neighborhood and honors classes in my rural town. Yet I am reminded of my heritage by the food I eat, the style of music I wake up to on a Sunday morning, and traveling to a dusty, dog-filled village in Mexico to bury my grandfather.…
I began to value the fact that my body has Mexican blood coursing through its veins and arteries. My Mexican heritage no longer seemed abnormal, and I began to cherish the moments devoted to my cousins every year. Instead of trying to distinguish myself from them, I searched for ways to make myself more like them and appreciate the diversity of my background. I fell in love with my other half and couldn’t imagine having ever not wanted to engage in such a marvelous culture. The only challenge I now faced was being able to stay intact with both…
Growing up with divorced parents from two radically different cultures was at first difficult. My mother’s family was from Peru, while my father’s was from Bangladesh. In my young mind, there was an internal struggle with what my identity actually consisted of. I wasn’t wholly from one culture or the other, and felt like a black sheep when interacting with either side of my family. Due to this, I attempted to keep these cultures partitioned. At the time, they were different portions of my life that simply couldn’t intermix. This mentality in turn led me to foolishly shy away from my joint heritage. I kept myself enclosed in a box, blind to the beauty of my surrounding culture. However, as time progressed, I knew I had to make a change in my understanding.…