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What Can I Say About Me, Myself and I: Personal Narrative Essay
I was born in US to an immigrant family from India, at a time when my dad was unemployed and had no health insurance. My dad running from place to place doing a temporary job under the contracting company to maintain the immigration status and earn the living. My mother left me in India when I was toddler and came to US in search for a job.
I was raised in India initially without parents living with relatives. It was not an easy journey in India. All my learnings started without my parents: my first walk, my first word, or when I was sick, etc. I felt lonely when I saw other kids playing with their parents in the park or going to pre-school. Faced huge discrimination when fellow kids trying to rag me or exploit my situation as they knew no body will come for my rescue.
When I came to US, it was total change, with little or no English spoken in the homes in India, as I started my infant English skills, I did not like school since I don’t have any companions yet and I did not know English well. I was concerned and eager to move. I didn’t know individuals here; I didn’t know things. I was truly terrified from the start. My hardest minute was the point at which I began school. From the start, schoolwork was extremely hard on the grounds that everything was in English, and I didn’t have the foggiest idea what they were discussing. I was so apprehensive to meet new individuals and new instructors.
Growing up was unquestionably a blend of two universes, Indian and American. Now and again, I have felt trapped in the two, yet it’s a unique little something that you figure out how to discover your way through. It unquestionably takes mental mettle to know where you stand and what you need to hold on. I would now be able to represent more than a certain something.
As a young immigrant, I was over looked with different types of segregation. The sorts of segregation confronted can be as misguided judgments about their way of life, obliviousness about our religion, and the cliché depiction of the migrant’s way of life. Second, as a recently shown up immigrant frequently encounters culture stun when gone up against with the ‘American way of life’. Combining two various societies is hard for both the new settler and the foreigner that has been in America for a few ages.
As an immigrant family kid in school, I was prodded about ethnic foundation, it created a scar that stayed with me for quite a while. For the most part, the oppressive remarks made spin around me, social personality or religion. More typical than not, these remarks depend on misguided judgments and erroneous data in regards to the social way of life and religion me. At that point when looked with this kind of misfortune, as a kid I had two options I can make. They can either take that cynicism and transform it into self-loathing, or they can utilize it as a helper to demonstrate their self-esteem to themselves as well as other people.
Within my family, I am considered the responsible oldest, spoiled youngest and the bratty middle child all at once. How is that possible you say? Although I may inhibit all of those roles, I can never experience them through a sibling bond. Majority of my friends have larger families with multiple siblings: two, three, four. The larger the louder their presence would be at a family party making my trio appear small and insignificant. As a child, I thought that I appeared to be an oddity among my community. Everyone else had someone to look up to, help them or simply annoy, while I was left in a world of solitude. There was no one to look up to for help with math project or constantly nag upon when I remained clueless for what to wear to my first high school dance. I must be proud of who I am and accept my place within the only child community.
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